Anne said. He was on his knees, working on the generator. “Tom!” She shouted this time. He looked up. His upper lip was smudged with grease. Anne started to laugh, but then caught herself. “What's wrong?” He looked puzzled. “Sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. Your face.” She touched a finger to her own upper lip. It looks like you have a moustache.” Does it suit me?” He tried to wipe the grease away, but only managed to smudge it. “Not really. Mum said you wanted to go to the general store.” “I thought I'd go this afternoon.” “It might be better to go now.” He checked his watch—it was just after eleven. “There's a break in the rain, but it's going to be back, much heavier, this afternoon,” she said. “Right. In that case, I'd better go now. I don't want to get washed away. I'll just finish up what I'm doing. Would you like to come with me?” “Me?” She hadn't expected that. “I don't think I can... I have work... ” “Sorry. I should have realised you'd be busy.”
