A boy flung himself at my ankles and felled me, heavily; they were stronger than I’d expected, these chaps. I was covered in sand; it was in my mouth and my hair. Tears of laughter were streaming down my cheeks. Somewhere the headmaster waited, the grown-ups waited, retribution was at hand. Women were waiting to blame me. They wagged their Angers: do this, do that, don’t do any of it, Don’t Play On The Grass. Who cared? I’d nothing to lose anyway; no house, no car—no kids, not really, because I was one of them now, just for the heck of it.

Some of them had pulled off their football boots and they were dancing at the water’s edge. A hundred miles down this coast, a hundred years ago, Eleni did that, prancing like a filly, and I thought I could never be so happy again. These were all my boys now; they were all the boys I’d ever wanted. They were wrestling on the sand. The wide, empty beach was fill of boys, all dressed in purple and all looking the same. One of them was me and we were multiplied until I was dizzy.

I was puffing and panting; I was out of condition. For a week I’d been sitting in a driver’s seat. I flopped down on the sand and lay flat out, gazing at the spinning clouds. Edward flopped down, a yard away. He was panting too.

‘You okay?’ I asked, sitting up.

He nodded. ‘Think so.’ He paused for a moment, catching his breath. ‘Haven’t brought my puffer.’

‘It’s getting better, the asthma?’

He nodded again. ‘Seems to be. Don’t know why.’

‘It happens. You grow out of it.’

‘Do you?’

I nodded.

I looked at him. His nose was blunt, like mine. I could see a resemblance now. Inside me, something shifted. He’d be tall, too; he wasn’t stocky like his mother. He had a terrific smile—cheeky. On his chin were two tiny pimples.

His knees were sandy and his feet were bare. I scooped up some sand, it was clammy and cold, and heaped it over his feet. His toes wiggled. He squirmed, giggling. I’d done this before, but I couldn’t remember when. Had I dreamed it, or was I dreaming now? I hoped I was dreaming because sooner or later I’d have to take these boys back and face God knew what—the teachers, the police. Perhaps they’d think I was mentally disturbed and lock me up. But if I was dreaming I could simply wake up and find myself in bed.

Which bed? I hadn’t got one any more.

I grinned at Edward. ‘Got you.’ His feet were two lumps; when he shifted, the sand cracked.

He grinned back. ‘Want a bet?’