Casting Samson by Melinda Hammond

of explaining feelings she didn’t understand herself, and she uttered up a silent prayer of gratitude as Graham Tring arrived in the white van he used to transport his disco equipment.
    With a brief command for her to stay in the car, Josh climbed out to meet the landlord. While the two men worked on the engine, Deborah curled up on the seat, too tired to try and make sense of the evening. Her only consolation was that after tonight, she need never see Josh again.

Chapter Six
    Saturday was market day in Moreton-by-Fleetwater. The centre of the wide High Street was filled with the brightly striped awnings of the market stalls instead of the assortment of cars that parked there the rest of the week. Deborah liked to get there early to avoid the crowds and have first pick of the fruit and vegetables for the restaurant, and she was one of the first customers at the fruit stall.
    Arthur, the stallholder, greeted her cheerily. “Morning, Deborah. Got your list for me?” She handed over her printed sheet. “Oho, computerised now, are we?”
    “Only because my writing’s so bad!” She smiled at him before turning to greet the girl who sauntered up to the stall beside her, yawning widely. “Hi, Kylie. Late night last night?”
    Kylie Tring was the daughter of the landlord of the Dog and Sardine. Her blond corkscrew curls bobbed as she nodded. “Yeah. We all went to the Westhaven last night to see the strippers. It was a good laugh—you should have come with us, Debs. And you, Mrs. Lindsay.”
    Hearing her name, Anne Lindsay stopped beside them. “Me?” She laughed. “I’m past that sort of thing! Morning, Arthur. Four Granny Smiths, please, and a pound of onions.”
    “And I was working,” Deborah said. She added casually, “I suppose they’ve gone now.”
    “Uh-huh. We stayed up really late last night, y’know, talking and drinking. They’re a great bunch of guys.” The green eyes glinted. “Especially with their kit off—but you’d already know that, Debs.”
    Deborah had had plenty of time to decide how she would answer questions about her winning date with Josh.
    “Well no, actually. We made it perfectly clear at the start that we’d just go for a drive.”
    “But Dad said you were on Hyndon Hill.”
    “We were, but that was because I wanted to look at the view.” Deborah added firmly, “Nothing happened.”
    Kylie was not impressed. “Huh. What a waste. And he’s got such a great body too.”
    Kylie’s smile was smug, catlike. Perhaps she had done more than talk and drink with Josh last night. Deborah was shaken by a sudden burst of jealousy. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t interested in any man except Bernard.
    “How far do they go, then?” Arthur counted onions into a bag. “I mean—do they take everything off? I mean— all of it?”
    Kylie grinned. “Yeah, but you don’t actually see anythin’, their tackle, an’ all. They’ve always got a hat, or a drum or something to cover it. It’s all very tasteful.”
    Anne Lindsay glanced at Deborah, her eyes twinkling. “Of course.”
    “No, really. It’s not sleazy or anythin’ like that. They do one bit where two of them are dressed as gladiators, all black leather and swords and stuff.”
    “Just right for Samson,” murmured Anne, and Kylie turned her wide, kitten-eyes toward her.
    “Yeah, I s’pose so. I’ve seen your poster. We put one up in the bar, and me dad says he’s hoping to audition for it.”
    “Good for him.” Anne Lindsay put away her purse and picked up her basket. “Are you waiting for your order, Deborah? I’m going to have a coffee, if you want to join me. They’re serving drinks at the village hall this morning. Thought I should support it.”
    “Yes, okay.” Deborah flashed her shy smile at the stallholder. “I’ll be back later, Arthur, to pick up my order. ’Bye, Kylie.”
    The two women strolled in amicable silence away from the market and across the green. The village hall was built