Hot Water Man by Deborah Moggach Page A

The other guests rose. Shamime gathered her sandals. They collected the last glasses and extinguished the lamp, while Shamime locked up the hut.
    The moon had risen. In its light they could see their way around the corner of the hut, stepping over the tussocks of grass. The others drove off. Duke put the rest of the party debris into the trunk.
    They climbed into the car. Duke switched on the headlamps. They lit up the back wall of the hut. He started the engine. Beneath the wheels there was a grinding and spinning. The Datsun did not move. He revved the engine. More spinning.
    â€˜We’re just getting deeper.’ He switched off the engine.
    They sat still for a moment, then they climbed out. The wheels were sunk into the sand, right over the hubcaps. In the moonlight the automobile looked like some stranded creature, just crawled from the sea on his own damnfool demand. He should not have come here.
    â€˜Heck.’
    â€˜Perhaps we could get some help. There’s always somebody around.’
    â€˜I’m getting us out,’ he said.
    â€˜Anyway, I don’t fancy creeping about this place at night.’ The dog barked again. She shivered.
    â€˜Could you sit in the driver’s seat?’ asked Duke. ‘And I’ll push.’
    She climbed in. ‘I’ll try.’
    He leant over and showed her the starter. ‘Put your foot on the clutch, here.’ He bent and patted the pedal. She moved her sandalled foot.
    â€˜I’ve never driven a Datsun.’
    â€˜Press the clutch. I’ll put it into gear.’ He leant over, careful not to touch her, and eased the gear-shift into position. ‘When I say
Now.
Okay?’
    He went over to the front bumper. She peered out of the window, watching for when he would push. She was so slim, the car felt no heavier with her inside it.
    â€˜Now.’
    She revved. He pushed, willing every muscle in his body to move the automobile. His feet dug into the sand. His shirt stuck to his chest.
    â€˜Now.’
    She revved again. He pushed, grunting. The wheels spun.
    â€˜Now.’
She revved. He moaned.
    He rested a moment, leaning against the warm hood. The air was full of exhaust smoke. She was leaning out of the window, coughing with the fumes. He wanted to protect her.
    â€˜Again?’ she asked.
    Groaning, he pushed against the car. He must get this girl delivered home.
    The door slammed. She was beside him.
    â€˜I’ve put it into neutral,’ she said. ‘Shall I push from here?’
    She, too, was breathless. She pulled up her sleeves; they fell back again. They put their hands against the hood. He could smell her perfume and warm sweat.
    He took a deep breath.
‘Now.’
    They pushed together. Her breath rasped beside his. His head swam with perfume and exhaust. The wheels spun. They stopped. He looked up at the spinning stars.
    â€˜I think there are some . . . planks . . . in the hut.’ She caught her breath. ‘From when we had the shutters replaced.’
    â€˜I’ll go.’
    â€˜No. I know where they are. But please come with me.’ She looked around. ‘I know it’s stupid . . .’
    He reached through the window to get her pocketbook. The illuminated clock stood at ten after twelve. Something was supposed to be happening at midnight but he could not remember what.
    Shamime crossed the headlights, making her way round the hut. He had no torch to help her. The wind had risen and the moon clouded over.
    A sharp cry.
    â€˜Shamime?’
    He stumbled forward and bumped into her. She was climbing to her feet. He put his arms around her and helped her up.
    â€˜Just a can,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Probably one of ours.’
    He was still holding her. She was thinner than she seemed. ‘Pardon me.’ Quickly he let her go and took the can, inspecting its label as if his life depended on it. She stood near, looking at it too.
    â€˜Root Beer. I thought