We spend the days jumping the waves – 'jumping sharks!' my daughter shrieks. Together we collect shells so tiny they disappear into light.
I watch her sitting in the waves, telling stories to the mermaids who gather to listen. Her stories involve castles made of ice-creams and cats of fire. Precious moments and tales, I press them in my mind, dangling like silver charms to reflect upon when the skies turn grey.
At night the stars are so luminous, so brazen. We are not used to the stars flashing their bodies – in the inner-city stars are modest, only ever half-glimpsed through the pollution.
But it is the innocent blue days that present the serious baking challenges. Sandcastles, jellyfish and crabs admire our efforts as we spend hours baking cakes for mermaids.
