Footprints in the Sand

‘I take all the orders in sign language.’

‘Sure.’

‘Go on. Go ahead. I’ll give you five minutes, then follow.’

I walked up the steps, only too conscious of him watching me. I mean, he was trying to pretend he wasn’t, but I could tell he was. I felt kind of flattered and embarrassed at the same time. I came to the top of the steps to find Mum was up and sitting at a table on the terrace, reading.

She looked up from her book.

‘Where’ve you been? You look pleased with yourself.’

I flopped down on a chair beside her.

‘Just for a walk down the beach. I’m really thirsty. Do you think we could order some drinks?’

‘Did you see anyone?’

‘Anyone? Like who?’ I ignored Mum’s expression and got up and went over to the kitchen.

I poked my head around the door but Stavros wasn’t in there. ‘Do you think Stavros’d mind if I helped myself from the fridge and paid him back later?’

Mum wasn’t listening. She was looking over at Ben, who was standing at the top of the steps, silhouetted against the low evening sun.

‘Someone trying to do me out of a job?’ he asked.

‘Hello,’ said Mum.

‘We thought you must’ve left.’

(How could she? She’d made it so obvious we’d been talking about him. I could have killed her.)

‘I had a few things to do in town. Then soon as I got back, the wind was absolutely perfect…’

‘For windsurfing? So it was you we’ve been watching, out in the bay with the pink and blue sail…’

‘Yeah. Must’ve been.’

‘Please, do you think I could have a drink?’ I interrupted Mum before she could give him a total rundown of every single movement we’d seen him make.

‘What can I get you?’

I thought I’d impress him with my Greek. ‘Portocalada?’

‘Coming up.’

‘And I’d love a cold white wine,’ said Mum.

‘Oh, and could we have some of those yummy onion rings as well?’

‘Onion rings?’

‘You know the ones Stavros does, all hot and crispy with a slice of lemon?’

He grinned. ‘Those aren’t onion rings.’

‘What are they then?’

‘Kalamari.’

‘Kala – what?’

‘Squid.’

‘Squid? Oh that is so disgusting!’

‘No it’s not.’

‘It is. Yukk – to think that I ate squid!’

Mum and Ben cracked up. Don’t you just hate that, when you’ve made a real fool of yourself and other people laugh at you – kind of indulgently? They both seemed to think it was a great joke.

‘So what are you doing here? Working in a place like this?’ asked Mum, when Ben returned with the drinks.

‘The money’s not much, but I took the job because Stavros said I could use the boards for free in the afternoon.’

‘You’re pretty keen, aren’t you?’

‘On windsurfing? Yeah, I’d do anything, if it meant that I could sail.’

I wished Mum wouldn’t go on like this. Why does she always have to talk to boys – to show so much interest. It was so un-cool. I pretended not to be listening and looked out to sea.

‘You weren’t very friendly,’ commented Mum when we returned to our room.

‘Well, you were. Far too friendly,’ I retorted.

‘He seems a nice boy.’

‘He’s all right, I suppose.’

She looked at me assessingly. ‘All right. Enough said. Let’s eat down at the harbour tonight. I wouldn’t want to cramp your style.’

‘What d’you mean – cramp my style?’

‘I’m obviously being a real embarrassment to you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Do you want to shower first or shall I?’

Chapter Eight (#ulink_b272f1f8-d998-5d0e-b427-a3a932eeb5c3)