As he looked out across the city towards Mount Lofty he was thankful to see no sign of any fires. The forecast, promising two more days of unrelenting hot weather, would have fire-fighters nervously monitoring the hills area. The water pressure was strong as it cascaded warmly down his back, draining away the last remnants of stress. Breakfasting first, on only orange juice and fruit, he left his home just before six o clock. Dooley looked up, only to put the damn hook through his finger.
Some bastards have all the luck.
Except for the distant sleek Mercedes, the two fishermen had the beach to themselves. Waves that flowed with powerful grace across the vast white sand would soon lose their momentum. The early breeze was easing now and the silver crests that bounced on the bigger rollers were few. Dooley and his mate had lost interest in the Mercedes driver - just another weekend tourist beating the rush. Far from the entry ramp the Mercedes had stopped, facing seawards, the engine still running.