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done cobwebs before and I don’t know how.’
    â€˜Er, yeah, I’ll think about it,’ Nick said, wondering quietly if the city folks’ requests could get any more bizarre.
    â€˜Grazie, ciao,’ Tori said and waggled her fingers on her way out the door.
    Nick dug through his toolbox for a hammer. As he stood, Jess suddenly had a throat-closing thought. ‘Oh my God, your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Well, you could say that, in fifty-one weeks.’
    Jess looked up and cringed. ‘What? You mean I missed it? It was your birthday last week? Oh Nick, I’m so sorry I forgot. I’m such a ditz.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly, we had a nice day together anyway.’
    â€˜When was the twentieth? What day was that? Tuesday? Oh shit, Nick, that’s the day we cleaned out my filthy gutters. What kind of birthday is that?’
    â€˜The best kind,’ Nick replied. ‘Sludgy leaves, rusty gutters, possum poo and you. Doesn’t get any better than that!’
    â€˜I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I had it in my mind the week before; I even knew what I wanted to give you.’ Bugger, she thought. She’d planned to buy him an iPod shuffle so he could listen to his favourite music while he worked, but somehow she’d just lost her train of thought yet again and forgotten one of her closest friends.
    She sighed and shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.
    Nick smiled at her as Trixie brought him over his steak sandwich. ‘You could just give me a kiss,’ he grinned and made a grab for her.
    â€˜Oh stop it, you flirt,’ she said and whipped him with the tea towel.
    Trixie stuck her head back in the door. ‘Have we got any milk?’ she asked.
    â€˜Did you look in the other fridge, the one in the storeroom?’ Jess replied.
    â€˜Oh, yeah,’ the waitress said and went back into the cafe.
    Nick rolled his eyes. ‘How do you stand it?’
    â€˜She’s nice,’ Jess replied. ‘There’s more to a waitress than just remembering orders and serving food, you know.’
    â€˜This place would grind to a halt without you,’ Nick said as he poured tomato sauce all over his chips.
    â€˜Hmm,’ Jess replied, dropping her gaze. ‘We’ll see.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’ Nick asked.
    â€˜Well,’ – Jess grabbed some bread and ham to make herself a sandwich – ‘I was thinking of maybe trying something new for a while – in the city.’
    â€˜What?’ Nick put down his knife and fork. ‘You can’t leave here, Jess, it wouldn’t suit you. Look at you, with your whacky clothes.’
    Jessica assessed her Bettina Liano skirt and distressed Collette Dinnigan tee and shook her head at Nick. She thought the look was pretty fashion-forward really. But she wondered how the chic professional women of Melbourne might see her. Maybe Nick was right. ‘Oh settle down,’ she said. ‘So what if I do stretch my wings? This will always be home.’
    Nick fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘Is this something to do with that bloke who was in the store the other day? The one in the tosser suit and the wanker car?’
    â€˜Nick, can you not be such an alpha male for one second? That was Jimmy McConnell, you don’t know him. He’s the second-in-command at Still Life in Melbourne.’ Jess slathered mayo on the rye bread and added some of chef’s new chutney.
    â€˜Still Life? Never heard of it. What did he want?’ Nick asked through a mouthful of chips.
    â€˜I knew him at design school and he just wanted to toss some ideas around, that’s all.’ Jessica definitely wasn’t about to reveal details of the job offer while Nick was in such a filthy mood.
    He grunted.
    She arranged some roasted capsicum and fetta on her sandwich and sliced it into triangles.
    â€˜Well, I’m off,’ Nick announced,