“Orange soda, anyone? Nothing else, sadly.” She glances at Eric as she pours out sticky orange liquid into plastic cups. Poppy shakes her head, spluttering with laughter.

Martin helps himself to a large slice of pie, Eric distributes salad to the children.

“Eat this.” Eve gives her a slice of pie and salad; she touches Melly’s arm. “And enjoy, forget about calories for once.”

Melissa takes a mouthful of lettuce, her molars crunch together; tiny grains of sand must have gotten into the leaves. She puts her plate down. She won’t mention the wine. Why get the girls into trouble? They wouldn’t have drunk it all, a couple of swigs each would have been enough; they must have hidden the bottle in the bamboo. Izzy is safe, the girls are safe; that’s all that matters, she should be thankful. She takes five black grapes and settles in the shade of the umbrella. She bought a postcard in the village today; a painted one with a view of the mountains. She takes a pen from her bag: Dear Lina, I expect you’re enjoying the peace. She puts her pen down and stares at the sea. She could have brought Lina with them if only she’d thought of it. She would have relaxed in the sun, maybe swum in the sea. Eve would have been fine with her staying. Lina’s face was tired on the morning they left, she doesn’t hum her little tunes anymore, but she still listens, better than anyone. I miss you, she writes.

“I’m going for a swim.” Eve stands up, stripping off her dress. She is wearing a red bikini bottom, nothing else.

“You can’t,” Melissa whispers. “The children.”

“It’s fine, Melly.” Eve looks down at her, amused. “The kids are unconscious. It’s a holiday. No one cares.”

She’s wrong, the children will care. Children don’t like adult bodies, especially their parents’, but Eve turns and strides over the pebbles. Melissa glances along the beach. The old lady has left the table and is holding hands with the little boys, one at each side, by the edge of the sea. Eve walks into the water and turns on her back. Her white breasts float as though separate from her body. The cicadas from the plantation screech at high volume, the heat beats down from the white sky, rivulets of sweat collect at Melissa’s waist. She longs for the cool water, but she’d have to take off her scarf and the bruises are still faintly visible around her neck.

Martin gets to his feet, stretching. “I need to swim off all that food,” he murmurs as he sets off trotting toward the sea.

“If he can do it, Melly, I’m sure you can,” Eric murmurs, facedown on the blanket. “Take my goggles.”

The girls and Blake are asleep. Ash is heaping pebbles on Eric’s back in little piles. She walks to the edge of the sea wrapped in a towel to her neck, the goggles in her hand. Martin and Eve are separate dots in the sea, far out. She puts on the goggles and discards the towel and then the scarf. The cold water is shocking then quickly delicious. A red fishing boat is moored on a buoy at least four pool lengths away. She swims as fast as she can, touches the splintery side, and then dives, glimpsing a jellyfish moving slowly through the water. The pebbles at the bottom are very clear. She surfaces, swimming toward Eve and Martin who have now moved close together and are floating on their backs. She dives down again. As she swims nearer she sees that they are joined together under the surface by a knot of fingers that look as if strange sea animals have become tangled together by accident.