She felt the sun high over her head as she began the walk down the coastal path. The ocean was more inviting the closer she got. She rarely swam – didn’t like the thought of what might be out there – but on days like this you could see the appeal. She threw her straw hat onto the sand and kicked off her sandals. The sand was baking and there was almost no breeze. She rolled her jeans up and wet her feet in the shallows. The water was so cool and calm. She walked in past her knees, leaned over, splashed her face and arms, ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, away from her neck. Her jeans were wet now so she went deeper, lifting her blouse to keep it dry. The sand dipped away beneath her feet and she was soaked up to her waist before she knew it. She laughed. What the hell.

‘Nice day for a swim.’

She turned to see Joe standing at the shoreline in his work clothes. His shirt gaped open at the neck. The hems of his suit pants were dragging in the sand. She felt ridiculous, suddenly. She waded towards him.

‘The water’s lovely.’ She smiled at him but he didn’t respond. He might have been scowling at her, or he might have been squinting in the sun. ‘Why aren’t you at work?’

‘Couldn’t face it. Got halfway there and came back.’

She stood beside him. ‘Forgot my swimmers,’ she said, looking down at her wet jeans.

‘I followed you down,’ he said. ‘Saw you from my place.’

She sat on the sand, stretched her arms out behind her and turned her face to the sun. Joe pulled off his shoes and socks, left them on the dry sand and sat beside her with his feet in the shallows. His right hand was bandaged, tightly wrapped around his knuckles and fastened at the wrist with a safety pin. She wondered if he’d done it himself or if he’d seen a doctor. If he’d made the hole in his lounge room wall any bigger.

‘How you going?’

He swallowed, and frowned at the horizon. ‘She cleaned out the savings account. The whole lot.’

Mandy dragged her heels through the wet sand and watched the two shallow channels fill back up with water. ‘I guess it costs a lot of money to fly to England.’

The sagging beach ball landed heavily at her side. She threw it back to the child and noticed, as she drew her arm back, that she’d worn her watch in the water. The delicate second hand had stopped ticking. It showed twelve-thirty, just gone. She held it to her ear. Silence.

‘I couldn’t even follow them over there if I wanted to,’ he said. ‘Not without selling the house.’ He ran his hands over his face, grains of sand mixing with sweat and dirt. ‘She left her job, too. Gave them notice.’