Page 23 - SAMPLE Talking the the Moon

all I’m thinking about is me and Mimi swimming side by side, our arms moving in time, while white bubbles burst around us.
Air traffic control
Mimi stays in the sea much longer than me. When I’ve had enough (like after three minutes) I swim to the shore, put on my flip-flops and run back to our basket. Cold water’s dripping down my neck. My teeth are chattering. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this cold. I get dressed as quickly as I can, tie Mimi’s bracelet round my wrist and shove my feet into my socks and shoes.
More people are arriving at the beach. A toddler in a pointed pixie hat is chasing a seagull, her dad close behind her in case she runs into the sea. He looks happy, then stressed, then happy again. A family sits on the stones drinking coffee out of paper cups. Seagulls bob on the water or fly in circles overhead. The deckchairs are all empty.
Mimi’s getting smaller in the distance, a tiny shape against the blue. She swims in the same direction every time, parallel to the beach heading towards the Palace Pier, and when she gets to a certain point she turns round and swims back.
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