The girl looks at me, puzzled, as if she has only now realized that I am there. She doesn't respond. „Don't you want to throw the other shoe into the pool aswell?" It is dark, so I can't really see her. I notice the dress she is wearing, green with violet flowers. Pretty. Then, suddenly, she grabs her foot, pulls of the other white sandal, and throws it into the water. The splash it makes cuts through the otherwise silent, heavy air. I like that. I don't know why she's so outraged, but for some reason that makes me smile. „A woman of my taste." I say, half-serious, half-teasing. And although I can't see her face or the expressions within it clearly, I notice she is quite taken aback by this. She grows silent, obviously torn between leaving and staying. But then, to my relief, she looks down into the bottom of the pool and sighs. I want to know how she looks like. My gaze keeps wandering over her face, but I can't identify it from here. Then, I stand up and walk around the pool, to the chair next to hers and stare at the water, in search for her sandals. „I'm actually more used to receiving orders than giving them, but you surely know that it is a crime to be unhappy under the full moon, right?" I see her feet dangle infront of her, feel her stare on my face. „I suppose you fled from the dance in there." I nod towards the building, but I don't dare to look at her. Eager, I wait for a response.

„Escaped from enemy, Captain." It's the first time she speaks, and I like the sound of her voice. Quiet, soothing. But distinct.I like the way she says „Captain." It makes me feel powerful.

„Oho!" I exclaim, fighting the urge to look at her. „Finally a promotion!"

We both don't know where this conversation is going, but we don't mind. Then, I can't help it anymore and I turn around to look at her.

She is pretty. No, more than pretty; the type of girl that doesn't know, that doesn't have to do anything for her beauty. Her hair falls over her shoulder like a waterfall, and she looks at me, stunned. „I was just a Soldier." I add, shrugging. „Dissapointed?" And even though that is meant as a joke, I find myself hoping that she won't be. I hold my breath and try to look as relaxed as I can. But then, she shakes her head. How old is she, I wonder, while I look at her in amazement. I really have no idea. But I don't care. The moonlight shimmers on her hair, on her dress, in her eyes, and I stretch my hand out to her and say: „Can I have this dance?"

„Here?" She asks, irritated.

„Oh, wait." I say, trying to ignore the dissapointment that is building up in my stomach. „ I don't want to break your toes. I'm not a very good dancer."

And they danced in the light of the moon, the moon, the moon" she whispered. Then, she looks down hastily and her cheeks flush. „The owl and the Kitten." I reply, because I know the poem. My dad used to read it to me when I was small. I grin. „Come on, Kitten."

And then she takes my hand. She isn't a very good dancer, but it doesn't matter, because neither am I. We just concentrate on the melody, for all we know, we may never meet again. We start getting faster, better. And then, before we knew it, we were dancing. Properly dancing.

On the following morning, I stepped onto the terrace of the pool on which we had danced. There she was. And when she looked up, I smiled. Not because I wanted to; I just couldn't help it. „I was hoping you'd be here. I forgot to ask you for your name." She looks at me, as if not quite sure why I would want to know. Then it hits me. She's not used to this kind of attention. She doesn't know what I want. Why I'm here, talking to her. And, most of all, she doesn't know she's pretty. „Evelyn." She says, bewildered. „Evie."

„Good morning, Evie. How are the eggs?"


„Well, at least one thing in this place that is cold. Can I sit down?"

She nods, and I sit down, grabbing a napkin and unfolding it. „Peter Colridge, pleasure."