They dissected their games as they ate; speculated quietly about that inseparable doubles pair.
Someone mentioned the boats.
Syl said they had it all worked out. They jumped the queue, got the dole straight away. Taxpayers paid for their operations. Then they took our jobs. They should be sent back to Sri Lanka, Sudan, wherever they came from.
She stopped, looking down in dismay. A drop of balsamic marred her cool tennis dress.