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Spying a pretty purple-tinged shell, she plunged her arm into the water and drew it out. Shaking the water off she held it between two fingers and examined it. As the shell dried its colour dimmed, but it gave her an idea. Collecting shells was as good a disguise as any for not swimming and the bonus was, she could show them to her patient in bed four. When he’d learned she was heading off to the beach, Rollings had cheekily asked her to bring him something.
She pocketed the shell and splashed her arms again. Feeling cool and fresh, she set one foot on a small ledge to climb out. Recently she had been feeling off balance so she pushed off the bottom with extra vigour. Next thing she knew, she was completely wet. ‘Damn it.’ Spluttering and surprised by the exclamation that slipped out, a word she never used, Meg stood. Both hands pushed hair out of her eyes. So much for not wearing shorts and keeping her clothes dry. She was the wettest of them all now.
Taking extra care, she climbed out of the rock pool and dripped her way off the rocks onto the sand. At least now I’ll stay cool.
Since she was already wet, she waded in the shallows, her gaze drifting from searching for shells to looking at the island. Her toe nudged something hard and she looked down. A small group of sea snail shells rolled with the ebb and flow of water. Tiny fish darted about her ankles, bright flashes of colour as they moved out of her shadow. She moved closer to the lacy froth of sea spume marking the place where sea met land. Tiny holes pocked the sand and endless bubbles rose around the edges.
She squatted and watched, still and quiet. Soon, an army of little white crabs with grey camouflage spots, crabs no bigger than the length of her thumb, scurried over the muddy sand.
Engrossed in watching them, she didn’t hear Gerry calling her to lunch until her friend stepped in front of her.
‘I see you decided to bathe in private after all. One tip: might be a better idea to take some clothes off first.’
Meg rose, a small selection of empty shells in hand. ‘I’ll try to remember that next time I’m falling into a rock pool.’
Gerry frowned. ‘Are you okay? I mean, you didn’t hurt yourself?’
‘I’m fine. Just not as sure-footed as I used to be. Can’t think why.’
‘Try to take it easy, Maggie. A fall could harm you and—you know what I mean.’
‘Don’t mollycoddle me, Gerry. Truly, I’m okay. Now let’s eat and enjoy this moment of peace.’
