“I would have picked somewhere more…” she paused, eyeing up the two sea-gulls screaming at each other at the edge of the shore while he wrestled with the clasp on his briefcase.
Their cars waited on the cracked, weed strewed concrete, three hundred yards behind them. It was the sort of beach that struggled to find warm days in Summer. She pulled her jacket tighter and looked back at the contact.
“This isn’t a place where you can meet someone unnoticed.” she said.
“It’s fine.” he reassured her, the briefcase popping open at last. “No one alive for fifty miles.”