Beach And Quiche
'Cuddle.' Little Granddaughter lifts up her arms. Her
face has a glow of high temperature. All her energy seems burnt out.
'Beep beep.' She squashes Nam-ma's nose and giggles.
After her nose is beeped by return she rests her head
on Nam-ma's shoulder, watches waves swoosh, the shenanigans of Dog, the cluster
fuss of gulls.
'We go back now,' a tired thing sighs. 'Go back
Nam-ma's car, now.'
'Shall we just look around this rock?'
'Okay.'
'Oh, s'pretty shell!'
She points at a whirl-patterned pebble.
'That's a stone.'
'Oh. S'tone. S'rock?'
'Yes, a small rock.'
'Uh huh.' She nods as though, in her opinion, the
question is answered correctly.
Wide spaced raindrops are blown from the warm grey
sky. She pulls up her coat hood.
'Not 'gain.' A head shakes, is placed gently back to
the shoulder.
'Back Nam-ma's car?' A muffled voice requests.
Nam-ma stands in the shallows, where temperate sea
washes over smooth stones and sea breeze messes up her hair. Dog is running
over the rocks into the waves and the gulls are annoyed into flight. Girl
stands alongside, throws the ball for Dog: intermittently: is weary from
tending her poorly child through the night.
'We could have quiche and chips for lunch,' she says.
The quiche is all ready cooked, has been left cooling on a worktop. 'And salad.
I need to buy chips and salad.'
Nam-ma chuckles on catching sight of an ardent collie
herding its tennis ball.
'Nuther one dog!' The little commentator perks.
They all walk back towards the car park.
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