Normally Neville didn't drink, but tonight someone had given him a strong mixed drink with too much fruit and not enough warning. The rum punch had been refilled a few times and Neville was feeling good. He lounged back on a pool chair, humming to himself to the tune of some song he'd heard on the wireless. It was fortunate for everyone that he didn't know the lyrics to try and sing them.
"You know," he said to someone who passed by. He didn't see who it was, he just saw a shadow move out of the corner of his eye. "I think it's odd that the guy in the radio was all ga-ga about Romilda, an' how many Romildas can there be? And then she vanishes! An' he's not talking 'bout her anymore. Funny. Funny. Fffunny."