Footprints in the Sand

‘Oh my God.’

I turned the light out.

‘Oh damn and blast, one’s bitten me now.’

‘Didn’t we bring any mozzie spray?’ I whispered to Mum.

‘No need to whisper. They can’t hear you, you know.’ Mum sounded really cross.

‘But didn’t we?’

‘Didn’t think we’d need it. And besides, that stuff’s so bad for you.’

Mum was such a fanatic about chemicals and things. I could hear her raking through her bag.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘Bite stuff – can’t see a thing.’

‘I’ll put the light on then.’

‘No! Oh bother, think it must’ve fallen out on the beach.’

‘But I’m itching to death!’

‘Put some lick on it. And cover yourself up or you’ll get bitten again.’

We both covered ourselves in sheets, including our faces. I lay in silence, hearing the mosquitoes circling overhead like heat-seeking missiles searching for a target. My bites itched like mad, and I could hear Mum turning over restlessly. Hers were obviously as bad as mine.

After half an hour or so, I turned on to my side.

‘Mu-um?’ I whispered.

‘Hmmm?’

‘Not asleep, are you?’

‘What does it sound like…?’

I lifted the corner of her sheet.

‘There weren’t any mosquitoes at the other place.’

‘Maybe there are now.’

‘No, it’s the fresh water. You know where the swampy bit was, by the beach? They only breed in fresh water. We did mosquitoes last term.’

‘So all that education wasn’t wasted after all.’

‘You have to admit – you liked the other place better, didn’t you?’

There was a moment’s silence and then she answered: ‘Well, yes, OK. I suppose I did.’

‘So what’s the big deal about staying here?’

‘There’s no big deal.’

‘You mean we could possibly go back?’

I could sense Mum staring at me through the darkness.

‘You’re really keen on that place, aren’t you?’

I blushed in spite of myself. I was glad it was dark.

‘Well it was just – so much nicer, wasn’t it?’

Mum leaned over and gave me a hug through the sheet.

‘After two days, yes. Why not? Better give the Old Rogue a chance to calm down first.’

‘Really, honestly, truly?’

‘Well it’s what we both want, isn’t it?’

‘Now she admits it.’

There was another, longer silence.

‘Can’t we go back tomorrow?’

‘Oh Lucy. I don’t know. Maybe.’

‘We could have another swim at that brilliant beach of yours first.’

‘It’s not that brilliant.’

‘Mum, it’s ghastly and you know it.’

Chapter Five (#ulink_926f3332-19bc-5c73-97af-757dd0728a2c)

So we went back the following morning. Mum didn’t even seem to mind about losing the money she’d paid for the second night. And she didn’t want a swim either, so we left straight after breakfast.

We saw the bus coming as we finished our coffee and had to run for it across the olive grove.

The bus driver waited for us, grinning and honking his horn in a teasing manner. Mum and I flopped down in the front seats.

‘Two please, to Paradiso,’ said Mum.