I remember little about this incident apart from a single scene, and a curious sequel. After that day’s work at the Octagon Bookshop, Omeo, I had a most enjoyable evening in the residence at the back. There had been an unusual and meaningful interaction during business hours, followed by dinner with my customer at one of the two hotels, or at the High Country Cabin. Or did I prepare dinner myself? Wherever it was, it would have concluded with an espresso coffee, and port or liqueur, in the intimacy of the little home I had designed. I felt wholly at ease with my guest, and she gave every sign of being absolutely relaxed. We were satisfied, content. The atmosphere could not have been better. Apart from these general observations, I recall little about her. The demands of her job, yes, were echoed in her physique. She was strongly built – a big woman – and had a most commendable superstructure. It was generous, and so was she. I had a great time exploring, feeling my way, testing the ground: and she purred. But there was no going below decks. She told me she belonged to the Whittlesea Fire Brigade. That made her the first person I had ever known in that line. When I remarked on how difficult it must be for a woman in such a predominantly male profession, she smiled, and said she was respected, or stood no nonsense. I don’t remember the exact wording. The evening came to an end somewhere between midnight and one in the morning. We parted, she to her hotel or wherever she was staying – and I to my bed on the premises. Though she said, when I begged her, that she might call at the shop in the morning, I never saw her again. Perhaps I could have contacted her myself at Whittlesea, as she had suggested? but I did not. The next day – or so it seems – my son Dominic rang me full of excitement from Melbourne. He was joining the Fire Brigade. I was stunned. It took me a few moments to recover my composure … and reassure him I was pleased for him, and that I accepted his decision. That slightly delayed reaction, had it not been for that visit, would probably have been rather cautious, a bit reserved, maybe disapproving. I had had my prejudices … and I could easily have been a hypocrite. He is still with the Fire Brigade, thirty years later, and – from what he lets on – doing well for himself.