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?'
'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.