I do as I’m told, swivelling slowly. That’s the problem. That is quite a big thing. There are lots of big things, hanging out, proudly. I turn around again, looking out to the sea.
‘What is the collective noun we need here?’ I ask.
Jess can’t seem to talk. It’s almost like if she opens her mouth, she’ll scream or laugh and both would be mildly disrespectful. ‘It’s like a colony of…cock…’ She goes pink trying not to laugh. ‘It’s not just willies, there are boobs out there too. And lady parts. Chloe, is this a?—’
‘Nudist beach?’ I say, finishing her sentence. A man runs past us, jogging no less, his gait and pace mean it swings like a fucking pendulum.Christ, he’ll have his own eye out.
‘Ladies, you like?’ Miguel asks. I scan down.Oh my life, you’re naked too. He does a little shimmy that is completely unwarranted, his all-over tan tells me that he probably comes here a lot. To be fair, we already know his predisposition for nudity but he’s not alone today. Case in point, the man next to us. That is some downward dog, his bollocks clapping together in the ocean breeze like castanets.
‘Miguel…’ I say. ‘This is a nudist beach.’
‘Yes. Ben told me to take you tonaturistabeach,’ he says.
‘He did? Are you sure he didn’t mean “nature”, like trees and stuff?’ Jess asks, still facing the sea, looking towards the horizon. I notice Zara doing a weird, crab-like side-step to join us.
‘Ohhhh, this makes more sense,’ he says, wriggling his nose. ‘I am sorry. My English. It is not all nudist here. You know Spain, some have the clothes, some prefer not,’ he says, pointing to someone’s fully clothed grandma under a beach umbrella. ‘But maybe we join in, so we can all be free with our beautiful bodies.’ Miguel looks mildly disappointed that we respond with silence. ‘We can move to the other side, it’s not nudist the other side of the cliff, but here,’ he says, looking around, ‘this beach has the mud flats.’ He bends down and starts rubbing what looks like grey dirt into his arms, looking up to the cliff. ‘My Benji tells me he gives you spa day yesterday: this is natural spa. The dirtis very good – has minerals like copper and iron and you can exfoliate.’
We look at him as he proceeds to rub that stuff everywhere, making light circles on his buttocks. I don’t think he’s completely insane, a couple nearby are doing the same, lying in it and doing an action like one would to create a snow angel. But we all stand frozen on the spot, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
‘And of course, the best way for your body to absorb this is to take off all the clothes,’ Miguel says, going over to Zara and dotting clay on her nose.
Zara laughs. ‘Oh, Miguel. I can just about wear a bikini. No one needs to see me naked,’ she says.
‘But you say this like everyone is watching you,’ Miguel says. ‘I don’t come down here and think:I want to get my pene out to show the world. I get it out to be free, so he can feel the sun.’
Zara laughs heartily. ‘I’ve breastfed three kids. My tits are?—’
‘I do not care. I am gay,’ Miguel replies.
Zara almost has no recourse for this. She laughs, shaking her head, and strips almost immediately, like she’s been dared. She skips into the mud flats and massages that stuff into her as though she’s applying some makeshift clothes.
Jess looks over at me, holding my hand firmly.
‘Not tempted?’ I ask Jess, smirking.
‘No,’ she says, tucking her vest top in.
‘Says she who was skinny-dipping in the pool a few days ago,’ I joke.
‘Hon, I had that crazy herbal alcohol stuff in my veins and it was literally me, Zara and Miguel. It’s different when it’s a lot of people, like in public,’ she says, her body tense all over.
‘Miguel does have a point though,’ I say.
‘Miguel also referred to his penis in the third person,’ Jess adds, relaxing for a moment to laugh.
‘There is something very cool about people being naked and not worrying about what anyone else thinks. No one’s looking, everyone’s just being themselves,’ I say. A woman walks past, she’s slightly older, her skin tanned and crepey but she holds her head up high, a massive grin on her face. ‘Everyone’s different shapes and sizes, but they’ve got their stuff out and there’s no judgement, no one’s looking. There’s a man over there barbecuing. That’s bloody brave.’ We look over at the flames, the kebabs. ‘What’s the phrase, if you can’t beat ’em…’ I say.
Jess raises her hand in the air. ‘Well, we’ve beaten people up already but I guess we can join ’em?’
‘I’ll stay clothed if you want to, no pressure,’ I tell Jess gently. ‘But you do have a killer rack. I’m very jealous of your boobs.’
‘I had twins; my boobs are mostly milk,’ Jess replies. She looks around at the beach, full of real men and women sitting around: they aren’t models or figures of perfection. Flesh and folds, blemishes and bumps are on display everywhere. No one really gives a toss about what others think. It’s very European but also probably the best way for anyone to live their life: free.
‘Let’s do this bit by bit,’ Jess says.
‘A fitting analogy,’ I reply. We strip off our cover-ups, shorts and T-shirts until we’re both in swimsuits.
Jess reaches for the clasp on hers. ‘After three, yeah?’ She takes a deep breath. ‘One…two…three…’
