“We’ll find them soon,” she says for the seventh time.

“You keep saying that, and we keep not finding them.”

“Well, I can’t help it, all right? We will find them – look, there they are.”

She had imagined her parents sitting on the edge of their towels, anxiously searching, but her mother has unfastened the tie of her bikini and turned onto her front, and her father is sprawled across the lilo listening to the radio.

“You back?” Their father glances at them from beneath the hat that makes her embarrassed to be seen with him. “Want to dig that hole now?”

“Um… okay.” Finn reaches for the spade and hands it to their father, who marks out a raggedy circle.

Ava’s been so worried about getting them back safely that she’s only just remembered the exciting news.

“Guess what?”

Her dad is busy with the spade. After a minute her mother stirs and turns her head.

“What?” she murmurs.

“We found this pool, and… ”

“A rock-pool? That’s lovely. Was there a crab in it?”

“No, not a rock-pool, like a sort of outside swimming pool thing, only with seawater in it, and… ”

“Oh yes. They mentioned that at the hotel. It’s covered at high tide. Did it look nice?”

“No, not really, it’s all seaweedy, but listen… ”

“If it’s seaweedy be careful,” says her mother. “You might slip.”

Ava gives up. She will keep the knowledge to herself. They can find out for themselves that their son has (almost) learned to swim. Maybe Finn will tell them, later today perhaps, maybe even tomorrow, and she can say casually, ‘Oh yes, didn’t you know? He showed me yesterday morning.’

“Do you want to help dig this hole?” Her dad, already bored of his engineering project, offers her his spade.

“Can’t I go in the sea?”

She can see from his expression that she’s asked too soon. Her father feels rejected. He wants her to want to dig the hole. In his mind, digging a hole with her father and little brother will teach her teamwork and cooperation and be healthy, whereas going off to the sea by herself smacks of precocious pre-teen rebellion. Today a swim by herself, tomorrow cigarettes behind the bike-shed. Where will it end?

“It’s too windy,” her father says. “I don’t want the lilo blowing away.”

“I won’t take the lilo.”

“What if the waves are big?”

“The waves are fine.”

“And we’ve only got three towels and your mother needs one.”

“I’ll dry off in the sun. Please, Dad.”

“If you lie down in the sun for a bit you’ll get a nice tan,” her mother says. “You can have some of my oil.”

She swallows the words that she wants to say, which are What’s the point of coming if I can’t go in the water?

“I’ll bring back some seaweed,” she suggests, suddenly inspired. Her father likes them to collect things.

“Love?” He nudges his wife with one toe. “What do you think?”