Sam passed over India.
‘What are you doing home so early, you slacker?’ she asked good-humouredly.
‘It’s an incredible day, the summer will be over before we know it and I thought: how about if we go for a drive and then a walk on the beach?’
Sam considered it. She’d gone with Ted, Joanne and her father individually for walks with India, but they’d been around the area, nowhere far.
Now Ted was suggesting goingoutout.
‘Please?’ he wheedled.
‘OK.’
They drove to the nearest beach, parked the car and made their way down the path to the shore itself. It was a windy day and the waves whipped and whisked. Walkers belted along the shore, stepping to music or some invisible internal beat. Dogs frolicked in the waves, brave when the sea was out, running away excitedly when it was in and barking at it.
They gazed out at the sea, watching the white horses dancing on the waves.
‘Imagine,’ said Ted, holding India up carefully in his arms. ‘Daddy’s going to teach you to swim in the sea one day. We can splash in the sand, look for pretty stones, watch out for crabs.’
Sam felt her heart melt. He was so happy with his darling girl – with both his darling girls, she realised. She’d always known how much he loved her, but the way he’d taken care of her, the way he’d worried, showed how devoted he was.
She leaned against him, glorying in the strong feel of his body and the sun shining down on them.
‘You never mentioned sandcastles, Daddy,’ she said. ‘Naughty Daddy!’
Ted laughed. ‘With moats. I love moats.’
‘Bet you I can build better sandcastles than Daddy,’ teased Sam.
Ted turned towards her, eyes smiling. ‘Bet you can, my love,’ he said. ‘You can do anything.’
Sam reached until she had her arms around him and India. ‘Wecan, together,’ she said.
And they were silent then, staring out at the sea. Content.
Ginger
On the Sunday morning after the photo shoot, Ginger lay in bed and listened to the dawn chorus. She was never awake this early, but today her head was clear and she felt as awake as if someone had injected her with a triple espresso. Today was the day her picturein a swimsuitwas going to appear in the paper’s magazine supplement. In colour.
Showing off her legs.
More than her legs.
Her boobs ...
The heat of pure mortification made her throw back the covers and get up.
She brought out some guinea-pig breakfast with her coffee, fed them, and then opened the window closest to the canal, where she could see the tree-lined path where early morning dog-walkers were already up. Church bells were sounding over in the big domed church in Rathmines. In the distance, the dome was peppermint green, while the sun shone on house tiles and made the soft red-brick houses shimmer in the early heat.
On a day this lovely, Ginger knew a sun-lover like Liza would have already organised herself in the garden, determined to get as many rays as she could. Liza went brown easily and never bothered with actual suncreams.
Jodie in work would not be impressed with her. Jodie believed in high sun factors the way ancient religions believed in flinging live sacrifices into volcanoes.
‘Your face turns into an old leather handbag if you don’t wear sunblock,’ she said.
Yeah, Ginger thought.You wait till your face is like an old handbag, Liza, and then come crawling back to me looking to be my friend. And then she grinned. She’d thought about Liza without that painful ache inside her.
It still hurt – twenty-six years of friendship couldn’t vanish that easily. But it hurt less. That was something.
