Summer '86 #01

It's at a beach in Port Alba that Archie first takes notice of them. Early thirties, probably from good money judging by their taste in clothing. The tallest of the two has chest-length, silky straight ebony hair and scarred olive skin. Tacky oversized-shirt. Too on the nose. Deliberately distracting. Except for the long wavy hair, their companion shares the same distinct features down to the tattoos etched on both of their exposed skin. The second one is dressed modestly with a touch of elegance. Interesting. They might be siblings, he deduces. Possibly cousins.

What he knows for certain is he and them aren't that different. It's a fact as real as the blood running in his veins. Any doubts he had, squashed by the unbearable migraine plaguing his head since Archie felt their presence late last night on his way home.

'Hello mis'yi,' teases a mocking foreign voice in his head. Where it not for the wall he was leaning on, the chances of Archie falling to his feet would have been high. Can't have that happening while I'm on the clock, he thinks.

When the pair strolls nearby, they barely deign him the barest of attentions, continuing on as if they were just one of the many tourists out and about this season. Who are they? Where do they come from? What do they need from a stray like him?

One of the guests from the other end of the veranda, Mrs Collingwood, hails him for a glass of wine. Archie dutifully obliges. The day ahead is long, he can't spend it dilly-dallying for a pair of unknowns.