“All right, I get the message… what do you want to do?”

“I want you to have a nice time.”

“I know you do,” said Caroline despairingly. “That’s the problem. You actually think I might enjoy being dragged miles across a crowded beach to get cold and damp and miserable.”

“You said you liked me because I’m spontaneous.”

“Maybe not quite this spontaneous, okay?”

Finn put his arms around Caroline and nuzzled her neck. After a minute, she relaxed against him.

“That feels nice,” she murmured.

“I really am sorry I made you lick the wall.”

“You should be. Mmm.” Finn’s fingers were stroking her back beneath her t-shirt, lightly scratching with his fingernails. “That’s lovely.”

“Lovely enough to forgive me?”

“It’s a start.”

“Can I kiss you? Or will I taste of cave?”

“Let’s risk it. No, not too cave-y.”

“Hooray.”

“So.” Caroline smiled at him. “Shall we go back to the beach now? And get some sun?”

“If you like. Hey, did I ever tell you about Third Cubicle Jesus?”

“Ava! It’s me! Are you awake?”

“Well, now we both are,” muttered Paul, pulling the pillow over his head. It smelled musty. “For fuck’s sake, what time is it?”

“Yes, hello, definitely here! Hang on, I’m coming out.” Ava pulled on her damp, sandy jeans and a crumpled t-shirt. She closed the bedroom door carefully behind her.

“It’s dinner time,” Finn announced.

“God, so it is. What shall we have?”

“Remember that fish and chip shop?”

“Oh, yes! Excellent plan.” Ava banged on the door. “Come on, Paul, we’re going out for fish and chips.”

There was an ominous silence from behind the door.

“Food,” Ava said.

Still silence.

“He hasn’t died, has he?” Finn asked. He knocked on the door. “Paul, are you dead?”

The floorboards groaned, then Paul stood in the doorway in his boxer shorts.

“What?”

“Just checking you’re not dead.”

“A night in that room and I might be.”

“I’ve got the answer to that,” Finn told him. “We’re going out for fish and chips.”

“You and Caroline might be. Ava and I are going to a restaurant. There’s a decent-looking one on the high street.”

“It won’t be better than the fish and chip shop,” said Finn, with the air of one making a biblical pronouncement. “At the fish and chip shop, they sell Qualipies.”

“The name says it all,” said Ava. “Come on, Paul, you’ll like the fish and chips.”

“No. Thank you.”

“We’ll take them down to the seafront and eat them on the beach,” said Finn.

“You have to watch out for the seagulls, though,” said Ava. “They’re bastards, they really are. They have one wingman seagull who walks up and down in front of you and looks hopeful, and then the others swoop from behind and make you drop your chips.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to come with you?”

“It’s part of the experience,” Finn insisted.

“Says who?”

“Paul,” said Ava coaxingly.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” said Paul. “All right. We’ll go to the damn chip shop. They’d just better have mushy peas, that’s all.”