Page 18 - SAMPLE Talking the the Moon

Swimming
Mimi’s waiting at the front door. She’s carrying one of those old-fashioned baskets, the sort people used to use if they were picking apples. There’s a blue ribbon tied round the handle, like the one on her finger. Two towels are folded on top.
“Let’s go, Iris,” she says.
She’s wearing trainers and a green knitted dress with
roses on it and a big purple knitted jumper with wool coming loose at the sleeves and a green hat and silver hoops in her ears. And she’s doing a little tap dance. I’m wearing a fleece, T-shirt and jeans and I’m walking in slow motion. I’m hoping if I’m slow enough, Mimi might change her mind.
As soon as we’re out of the house I’m shivering. The sky’s blue with little white clouds and the sun’s shining but it’s really cold. This is absolutely, one hundred per cent the last time I swim in the sea this year.
We walk down Mimi’s little path and she turns up the lane towards the flea market.
“Aren’t we going to the beach?” I say.
“Yes,” she says and keeps walking.
“The other way then,” I say, and I tap her on the
shoulder.
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