Footprints in the Sand

I tried to keep a straight face. ‘A flip-flop?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Want some help?’ I asked innocently.

‘Help?’

‘Finding it.’

‘Oh yeah, thanks. Why not?’

‘Right. What colour was it?’

‘Umm. Blue… Blue and white.’

So we both set out on a search for this fictitious flip-flop. I concentrated my efforts on the area around my rock. He backtracked a bit down the beach. But I could tell he was sneaking glances at me.

‘So you came back?’ he called over from where he was splashing around in the shallows.

‘Mmm. Mum liked it here. So I had to give in, in the end.’

‘Ohh?’

I clambered over some rough shale to where there was a rock pool. And believe it or not, right in the middle – there was a blue and white flip-flop. It was old and tarry, looked as if it’d been in the pool forever.

‘I’ve found it!’ I said.

‘Have you?’ (He sounded ever so surprised.)

‘Yep. But I don’t think I can reach it.’

He joined me and we both stood gazing down at the flip-flop.

‘You could probably reach it if you climbed down,’ I suggested. ‘Your arms are longer than mine.’

‘Yeah, guess so.’ But he didn’t seem in too much of a hurry. Instead he asked: ‘You staying back at the taverna?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long for?’

‘Not sure. Depends…’

‘On what?’

‘Oh I don’t know. Mum’s always getting ideas. She’ll probably want to go off and delve about in some boring old ruin or something.’

‘There’s an interesting site on the next island.’

‘Is there?’

‘Well, it’s not up to much – mainly Roman but…’

‘Whatever you do, don’t tell Mum about it.’

He grinned. ‘You going back to the taverna now?’

‘Mmm… sun’s going down.’

‘Maybe I’ll walk back with you.’

‘Aren’t you going to get the flip-flop?’

‘Yeah, guess so.’

I watched as he clambered down the slippery side of the pool and picked it out. It was so gross. Must’ve been in there ten years at least. It was all rough and perished and had disgusting slimy algae growing all over it.

‘How can you tell it’s yours? You’d better try it on,’ I suggested wickedly.

He turned and looked at me through half-closed eyes and caught my expression.

‘Here catch,’ he said, making as if to throw it to me.

I flinched.

But he didn’t really throw it. Instead he turned and hurled it as far as he could out to sea.

‘What a waste,’ I said.

He laughed.

‘Yeah, well. What’s the use of one flip-flop, anyway?’

Chapter Seven (#ulink_f199583a-1689-5859-b049-c12fe669c32e)

He didn’t walk all the way back to the taverna with me. He stopped at the foot of the steps and said in a kind of embarrassed voice:

‘You go up first.’

‘And he’s got manners too!’

‘No, it’s not that. Stavros, the guy who runs the taverna – he says I’m not meant to socialize with the guests.’

‘We were only walking up the beach. I’d hardly call that socializing.’

‘No, he’s like that. Doesn’t even want me talking to people.’

‘That’s a bit heavy. How are you meant to communicate?’