Easy to believe in the daylight, but come nightfall?

Just to be safe, Rat hangs Jérôme’s spirit-catcher over Morgan’s sleeping bag.

It’s turned into a glorious afternoon. Late in the day, when the sun’s going down, Rat goes swimming.

The water is so salty it stings your skin. She swims out far enough to see around the curve of the cove, up the coast to the high-rise hotels of Saint-Cyprien and Canet. Above her, dark blue sky, steep red-gray hills terraced in vines, the leaves palest newborn green, and beyond, the high wall of the Albères. On one peak, she can see the gray hulk of a pilgrimage site where she and Mémé Catherine picnicked one Palm Sunday.

Morgan waits on the beach, convinced that Rat is going to get eaten by a sea serpent. Only when she comes up on shore and threatens to throw him in the water will he venture in, and then no farther than his waist. He stands in the sea, clinging tight to Rat’s hands as she holds him from behind. His shoulders are hunched up high, and he squeals in terrified glee, like a toddler about to be tickled. Every time Rat tries to loosen one hand, he clings tighter.

They are whooping in the water, when Rat notices a group of people coming down the overgrown path to the beach. A girl and two boys, preceded by the sheepdog. They are carrying crates.

Rat extracts herself from the sea as inconspicuously as she can, grabs their one towel, and dresses behind it. She emerges, and helps Morgan dry himself and put his clothes on. Her skin feels uncomfortably prickly, her clothes are drenched. Then she goes forth to meet their fellow campers, Morgan shadowing her to keep out of the dog’s reach.

“Hi again,” she says.

“Hey.”

“I’m back. This time I brought my brother.”

The older girl has a crew cut and very bright blue eyes. She’s wearing black punk combat trousers with the legs tied together and a heavy black sweater and a pair of Doc Martens high-tops that look too hot and clunky for the weather. When she strips off her sweater, she’s wearing a white tank top underneath, and she’s flat-chested as a boy. She’s tall and slender. Tall as Rat. She is one of the prettiest girls Rat has ever seen. The bright blue of her eyes make her look as if she’s smiling, even though she isn’t.

Morgan is still hiding behind Rat.

“He’s not sure about your dog,” Rat explains.

“She’s gentle,” says the girl.

“Is her name really Arnaque?”

“Why not?”

The older kids set about making a fire. They have brought down to the beach crates of vegetables, fruit. Potatoes.