with surprise.

"Gidday?" he said, rolling the stub-end of a cigarette across his lips.

"Hi," said Groundhog, smiling.

"What can I do for you?"

"You know that bag I brought yesterday?"

"Yeah?"

"I've decided not to send it. Could I have it back please?"

"Got your receipt?"

Groundhog tried his pockets and pulled a crumpled bit of paper out.

"That's it," said the man, disappearing.

The metal door began to go up, squealing and protesting as it curled over at the top of the door. Groundhog shivered in the cold.

"This it?" said the man.

"Yeah!" said Groundhog.

The bag lay on the floor. It looked longer and larger now, which of course it was, and the man noticed this.

"How did it get down there?" he said to himself. He grabbed the handles and tried to lift it.

"Man! That's a heavy one!"

Groundhog backed his bike up to the concrete and waited.

"Hang on!" said the man, "I'm going to weigh this thing again. I think I gave you the wrong receipt or something. There must be another bag like this one somewhere. Yours wasn't this heavy, I'm sure of it!"

He went round the trolleys, looking for the unmistakable old leather bag, but of course he didn't find it because he'd already carried it out.

"No sign of her?" he said, scratching his head, "She's not there. This must be it."

Groundhog felt his heart leaping around inside his chest in fright. Surely the man could hear it beating? It was going berserk! Thumpa! Thumpa! Thumpa!