“What’s she doing?” asked Paul, picking up Ava’s clothes. The scent of her made him catch his breath.

“Going for a swim,” said Finn.

“She could have said.”

“She’ll be back soon. Do you want to see the caves?”

“Can’t we just sunbathe?” asked Caroline. She had spread a towel on the sand, and she sat down to undress. Until now, Paul hadn’t realised there was a right and a wrong way to take your clothes off on a beach. Caroline, sitting on a towel and shrugging awkwardly out of her t-shirt, was the epitome of modesty. Ava’s unwrapping had been more like a strip-tease.

“The caves are great,” said Finn. “All cold and spooky.”

“In a bit,” said Caroline. “Can you look after my hairclip?”

Finn took the chunky plastic clip, inspected it dubiously, then stowed it in his pocket. “If we don’t go now we’ll miss the tide.”

“Oh, all right.” Caroline sighed. “Are you coming, Paul?”

“I’ll wait here for Ava,” said Paul. “You kids have fun, okay?”

“I love how you make it sound like we’re actually your children,” said Finn.

The wind was too strong. The beach was too crowded. It was too far to the bar, and when you got to the bar it probably wouldn’t sell you a real drink anyway. Finn’s car was uncomfortable, old and unreliable. The hotel would be damp and in need of redecorating, with nylon sheets and luke-warm bathwater. Finn and Caroline would be in the next room, and they’d have to listen to them having noisy enthusiastic sex. Paul sat on the towel and thought about all the things that were wrong with this holiday.

Then he saw Ava, blue-lipped and glowing, and decided he didn’t care. He was here for Ava. If, for some inexplicable reason, she was happy here, he’d make himself be happy too.

“How was the water?” He offered her a towel. She smiled, but didn’t speak. “You know, the water in Alicante’s much warmer.”

“The swimming pool’s still there,” she told him.

“What?”

“It’s a sort of lido built into the rock. It’s pretty horrible really, like the world’s biggest rock-pool. It’s covered up every high tide so the water must get changed at least twice a day. But it still looks like every kid on the beach peed in it.”

“Then why did you want to go and see it?”

“Because it’s always been there.”

“Like Third Cubicle Jesus?”

“Like Third Cubicle Jesus.”

“Look,” said Paul, then stopped.

“What?”

“The thing is, I know you and Finn came here before… ”

“That dog’s stolen an ice-cream, look.”

“Don’t try and change the… ”

“Would you like an ice-cream?”

“I’m not trying to make you talk about… ”

“We always used to get ninety-nines, but once Finn got this thing called a Screwball with a glob of chewing-gum right in the end of… ”

“I just don’t know how much more I can stand of all this reminiscing,” Paul blurted out. “All the way here, you and Finn – oh, look, it’s that restaurant that used to be a Wimpy! Do you remember, when you had the ketchup and it fell on the floor? Hey, look, there’s that crack in the concrete that looks like that dog we saw once that had those ears… ”