Ron’s Bait and Tackle stood beside Ellie’s Just for You for ten years.
Every Saturday, the men would go, furrow browed, into Ron’s to buy line, discuss the best place to catch salmon and wrasse. Their wives would nip into Ellie’s, coo over doilies and fancy teapots shaped like Sydney Opera House.
When the paint flaked on the Just for You frontage, Ron would appear with sandpaper and paintbrush, Ellie watching from the shade, serving tea from a pot with a chipped spout.
As the sun eased into the ocean at the end of the day, he’d sit on his step, roll threads of tobacco into a skinny cigarette, she’d perch on the wooden seat he’d made for her, sip lemonade through a red and white straw.
One day both shops were found boarded up. A sign on the Just for you read,