The old woman who wore a cheap, pink satin kimono leaned over the balcony again to look down at Abby. She had been watering the rubber plant, and her watering can still dripped. “What’s wrong, lass? Had a fight with your boy friend?” “No. We’ve been looking for a place we can’t find. I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it. The Rose Bay Cosmetic Company.” “Why don’t you look it up in the telephone book?” the woman said practically. “Of course!” How silly not to think of that. (She had been sure she knew where to find them, but when she had failed why hadn’t Luke thought of the telephone book? It was the obvious thing.) “If you like to wait, I’ll look it up for you.” “Thank you. That is kind of you.” All the time the woman was away the canary sang deliriously. The sun was growing hotter and even from this distance the scent of carnations from the flower stall was quite distinct. Abby was finding her coat too warm, and wished she had worn a suit. But not the red one.
