with her back to us.
An old man walks up from a path through the dunes to the beach. He has a big fish on his fingertips and a bucket in his other hand. He smells of rotten guts. He stops when he sees usthere. He has wiry arms with old-man skin hanging off them.
Who are you? he says. I see Loretta jump and she turns, her cigarette burning close to her hand.
Nobody. Who are you? she says, not waiting for the answer. She turns her back on him with a flick of her hair. She bumps her shoulder on the door to open it. It makes the worst kind of noise. I see a flap of lino scraping up behind the door. She turns back to us. Triumph makes her face shine.
He says, You got water?
No, says Loretta.
You need water – there ain’t no water out here.
He shakes his head at us and walks to the caravan opposite. He goes around the side of it. When he comes back he has swapped the dead fish for a two-litre container of water, which he dumps in front of Loretta.
You’re going to have to drive back out in the morning and get water from the roadhouse. Then he says over the top of Jordy’s and my heads, I don’t like kids. Best if they stay away.
I stare up at him – he’s tall and skinny as a straw. His eyes are watery blue and fearful. I look at Jordy. The breeze blows his fringe away from his face and for a second he looks like someone else again. When I look back at the old man he’s looking at Jordy too. Jordy wraps his arms around himself. The old man shakes his head, shaking a thought, and turns his back on us.
O-kay, thanks, see ya, says Loretta and rolls her eyes. I find myself waving to his back – even though he’s only walking to the other side of the road. Stoopid old coot, she says and steps into the dark caravan. The sun has gone. The old man must light a lantern ‘cos his windows are bright and I see him in there,his white face through the rounded windows of his caravan. He’s looking out at us.
Come give me a hand, Loretta says from the dark. Jordy clumps in, banging on the metal step. I feel salt on my skin. The wind is cool. It tugs at my shirt. I go back to Bert and close two of his doors, sit half in him with my legs hanging out.
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose – like a light bulb, I sing quietly under my breath, mumbling the words I can’t remember.
Loretta sticks her head out of the caravan. Tom, she says, don’t you wanna come in?
I scrunch my hands into Bert’s seats. Yeah, I say.
Well, come on, she says and smiles really big.
I close Bert’s door and it slams accidentally. Sorry, I hiss at him and walk away.
I pull on the caravan screen door. The step is tinny under my feet. My eyes adjust to the darkness inside. Loretta and Jordy are sitting at a tiny table with a candle between them. The candle wavers. Loretta scrapes the water bottle across the sandy tabletop and it makes my skin crawl.
Well, that looks like a bed, says Loretta. I can see one end of the caravan taken up by the square of a mattress. And I reckon you two could sleep here, she says and pats the seat she’s sitting on.
What about sheets? I say.
We’ll find them in the mornin’, sport.
She gets up and starts opening cupboards one by one, looking inside them. She leaves them all open.
Here we go, she says. She gets three cans out of the cupboard, and dumps them on the table. One of them has no label, on theother ones the labels are faded and disintegrating.
That one’s a surprise, she laughs.
She opens a drawer. The cutlery rattles. She gets out three spoons and a can opener. She sits back down and opens each can.
Sweet, she says, creamed corn, and laughs again.
I’m not hungry, says Jordy.
More for us, she smiles at me.
I rub my feet under the table. She flicks a spoon at me and it slides on the gritty sand.
I get up and close each of the cupboards, clicking them back into place. Loretta rolls her eyes. I sit back down and she dumps the can in front of me.
You little weirdo, says
An old man walks up from a path through the dunes to the beach. He has a big fish on his fingertips and a bucket in his other hand. He smells of rotten guts. He stops when he sees usthere. He has wiry arms with old-man skin hanging off them.
Who are you? he says. I see Loretta jump and she turns, her cigarette burning close to her hand.
Nobody. Who are you? she says, not waiting for the answer. She turns her back on him with a flick of her hair. She bumps her shoulder on the door to open it. It makes the worst kind of noise. I see a flap of lino scraping up behind the door. She turns back to us. Triumph makes her face shine.
He says, You got water?
No, says Loretta.
You need water – there ain’t no water out here.
He shakes his head at us and walks to the caravan opposite. He goes around the side of it. When he comes back he has swapped the dead fish for a two-litre container of water, which he dumps in front of Loretta.
You’re going to have to drive back out in the morning and get water from the roadhouse. Then he says over the top of Jordy’s and my heads, I don’t like kids. Best if they stay away.
I stare up at him – he’s tall and skinny as a straw. His eyes are watery blue and fearful. I look at Jordy. The breeze blows his fringe away from his face and for a second he looks like someone else again. When I look back at the old man he’s looking at Jordy too. Jordy wraps his arms around himself. The old man shakes his head, shaking a thought, and turns his back on us.
O-kay, thanks, see ya, says Loretta and rolls her eyes. I find myself waving to his back – even though he’s only walking to the other side of the road. Stoopid old coot, she says and steps into the dark caravan. The sun has gone. The old man must light a lantern ‘cos his windows are bright and I see him in there,his white face through the rounded windows of his caravan. He’s looking out at us.
Come give me a hand, Loretta says from the dark. Jordy clumps in, banging on the metal step. I feel salt on my skin. The wind is cool. It tugs at my shirt. I go back to Bert and close two of his doors, sit half in him with my legs hanging out.
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose – like a light bulb, I sing quietly under my breath, mumbling the words I can’t remember.
Loretta sticks her head out of the caravan. Tom, she says, don’t you wanna come in?
I scrunch my hands into Bert’s seats. Yeah, I say.
Well, come on, she says and smiles really big.
I close Bert’s door and it slams accidentally. Sorry, I hiss at him and walk away.
I pull on the caravan screen door. The step is tinny under my feet. My eyes adjust to the darkness inside. Loretta and Jordy are sitting at a tiny table with a candle between them. The candle wavers. Loretta scrapes the water bottle across the sandy tabletop and it makes my skin crawl.
Well, that looks like a bed, says Loretta. I can see one end of the caravan taken up by the square of a mattress. And I reckon you two could sleep here, she says and pats the seat she’s sitting on.
What about sheets? I say.
We’ll find them in the mornin’, sport.
She gets up and starts opening cupboards one by one, looking inside them. She leaves them all open.
Here we go, she says. She gets three cans out of the cupboard, and dumps them on the table. One of them has no label, on theother ones the labels are faded and disintegrating.
That one’s a surprise, she laughs.
She opens a drawer. The cutlery rattles. She gets out three spoons and a can opener. She sits back down and opens each can.
Sweet, she says, creamed corn, and laughs again.
I’m not hungry, says Jordy.
More for us, she smiles at me.
I rub my feet under the table. She flicks a spoon at me and it slides on the gritty sand.
I get up and close each of the cupboards, clicking them back into place. Loretta rolls her eyes. I sit back down and she dumps the can in front of me.
You little weirdo, says
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