They settled in one of the tiny booths crammed between the wall and the horseshoe shaped counter.They both liked the place, despite the shabby interior and the overdone nautical theme. A plastic fish with British banknotes stuck in its gills hung on a driftwood plaque over the front door. Ornate letters carved into the timber spelled out the name ‘Squids Inn'.By eleven o'clock, they'd finished eating. A tall waitress in white bell-bottoms and a striped fisherman's jersey stacked up the empty dishes and carried them away, fighting her way through the throng at the bar."Annie, how exactly would you define a date?” Georgina asked. She masked her embarrassment by raising her glass, and taking a long sip.Annabel gave her a startled look. “A date? You don't know what a date is?""We don't really use the term in England. At least didn't when I was young. You either were going out with someone, which implied continuity, or you were not. A date sounds like something in between."Annabel jutted out her chin and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.
