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her eyes, making what she was seeing all the more surreal. ‘I was trying to find somewhere out of the wind to wait while the crew get their take. I have to be on hand.’ She pointed to the news station van and raised her make-up bag. In doing so, the painting tore in the wind and one half escaped her fingers, flapping towards the sea. ‘Oh no!’
    ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s not a patch on this.’ He bent down again and trailed a finger lightly over Nina’s leg. ‘Inspiration eternal.’ He was mesmerised.
    ‘It’s no problem, honestly. It’ll wash out.’ She stared down at the man’s head. His hair wasn’t grey, rather charcoal – an unusual colour – and Nina thought it matched the weather.
    ‘No, no, don’t wash it out. I tell you what,’ and he stood up, his face close to Nina’s. ‘Let me buy them from you. I want to buy your trousers.’
    Nina laughed and, at the same time, a gust of wind toppled her sideways. Her white teeth flashed amusement in the storm. ‘You can’t buy my trousers,’ she said. ‘You’re mad.’ She started to walk off back to the crew, shaking her head.
    ‘Wait. I’ll give you a hundred pounds for them. Please.’ Nina turned. She noticed his eyes as they occluded to a thunderous slate colour to match his hair. He was serious.
    ‘Hey, forget the money.’ She held up her hands in defeat. ‘If they mean that much to you, jot down your address and I’ll post them. They’re old anyway.’ The wind tore at lipsthat couldn’t help grinning. ‘No one’s ever wanted me to take my trousers off for such an odd reason.’ The man grinned and daubed his name and address in paint on the remaining paper. He handed it over and Nina allowed it to flap in the wind to dry.
    ‘And before you say it,’ he said as she glanced at the address, ‘yes, I’m trailer trash.’
    Nina tried to decipher the words. ‘Ingleston Park. I’ve never heard of it.’
    ‘Lucky you.’ He smiled again. ‘It’s a shitty dump of a place on the outskirts of town. Only those down and out on their luck in this life and all their previous incarnations get to live there.’ He was laughing as he spoke. ‘No, really. It’s OK. Just a cabin. In the woods.’
    ‘It sounds rather nice,’ Nina said, thinking of her own bedsit above the chip shop. ‘I bet you don’t wake to the smell of fat and battered sausages.’
    ‘Nina!’
the production assistant yelled.
    ‘Looks like I’m needed,’ she said. ‘Expect my trousers,’ she called as she turned and ran back to the crew. The casual wave she flicked over her shoulder kept the artist standing on the dock until the crew van was out of sight.
    ‘She’s out like a light.’ Nina folded on to the sofa.
    ‘They had a great time at the concert. I worry about her going out at night, though. Anything could happen to her.’ Mick sank on to the sofa next to his wife. ‘And if I’m honest, I don’t think I’ll be able to stand it when she brings a boy home. The thought of some grubby teenager laying afinger on my girl makes me . . .’ Mick pulled a face and shook his head.
    ‘Don’t fret about that. She’s sensible. She won’t throw herself at the first boy who comes along.’ Nina laughed.
    ‘That may be so, but you’ll still have to tie me up when it happens.’
    They’d never thought that this time would ever come. Josie becoming a young adult, dating, going to parties, having relationships, had always seemed a million miles away. ‘I’m still not convinced that internet access in her bedroom is a wise idea, though. Did you update the parental settings?’ This was Nina’s main concern.
    ‘Of course. I already told you that. She can’t look at anything dangerous.’
    ‘It’s not that. I trust Josie. It’s other people that worry me. Chat rooms, all those social networking sites, photos and videos posted everywhere you look. She’s ripe fruit for picking.’
    ‘It’s all pretty harmless,’ Mick said. He stretched out on the