Sweltering

He had to raise his voice.  

'Look, it's great here. We should definitely stay.'  

Ice-creams melting, they surveyed the heaving beach. A deep mass of colourful umbrellas and sun-tents crowded the hot sand. A confusing delusion of semi-naked bodies lay prostrate in little encampments, or wandered about lugging chairs and paraphernalia. They blew up shiny beachballs and inflatable loungers, ate from paper bags or drank out of plastic bottles. They sweated and chatted and shouted under a midday sun that beat down from a blisteringly blue sky. 

Geraldine looked at the few square yards she and her father had claimed; a meagre redoubt of towels, clothes and bags among thousands strewn over the baking sand.

'But I wanted the zoo!' 

She wiped vanilla from her orange swimsuit.

'Daddy. This is not the zoo. You told mum you were taking me to the zoo.' 

Her father, pale and skinny in his blue swim shorts, crunched the last of his cone into his mouth and reached for the suncream.

'I know that Gerrie, but we always go to the zoo when I have you. I thought you'd like a change.' He waved the plastic bottle over the mass of surrounding people, like a magician. 'And anyway. Ba-boom! It's absolutely the hottest day of the year. What better place to be than the beach?'

Geraldine sat stiffly on her towel, arms around her knees, licking ice-cream from her lips and staring at the back of a deckchair. She could just see a straw hat peaking over the top edge.

'The zoo?'

Her dad began soothing her tense shoulders with the white lotion. He chuckled.

'Cheer up, Gerrie. Don't you think it's a bit like a zoo here anyway?'

Geraldine frowned. 'There's more space at the zoo. And it's so noisy here.' 

She looked at a group of older boys, drinking from cans, and horseplaying around a black box.  'And that music sucks.' 

Her father put the bottle into her hand.

'Put some on your legs. Listen. Gerrie. It's just people enjoying themselves. Ignore them. Put your hat on.'

'But Dad—' Geraldine winced as small fat boy scooted by, scuffing sand into their little haven.

Her father grunted, dusted off the towels and adjusted the walls of bags and clothes. 

'What about the sand?' her father said, creaming his own white body. 'You love sand. Remember the sand pit I made you? You loved playing in that.'

Geraldine sighed. 'Dad, I'm eight now. I don't play in sand pits anymore.'

She peered between the surrounding legs and umbrellas to the shiny thin ripple along the water's edge. The rest of the sea was lost in a glistening forest of bodies standing, swimming, paddling and playing in the surf.

'Dad—'

 'Honey, we're here now.'

'But, Daddy—'

Her father exhaled loudly. 'What is it now? Can't you just enjoy the day?'

'Daddy. Why are we here?'

'I told you. Some place not the zoo. Hottest day of the year. Sand, sea, right? Fun?'

'But mummy says you don't like people. That's why you work in that office.'

'She said that?'

'Yes. Mummy says you need a break.'

Her father sat up sharply. 'That's just what I'm trying to get!'  

He was immediately sorry. He turned to look at his daughter: small, fair haired; blue-eyed like her mum. And nearly in tears. 

'Sorry, honey, I didn't mean to raise my voice.' 

Geraldine had too much suncream on her face and looked paler than ever. Her father reached gently across and smeared some away with his thumb.

'I'm just tired, Geraldine. And your mum is right. I do need a break. Spend time with people. I thought you'd have fun while I mingled with sweaty humanity.' He smiled. 'I brought your bucket and spade. Some of your books. Lots of yummy snacks. Your favourite juice.'

Geraldine got up an hugged him. 'It's alright, daddy. We can go to the zoo another time.'

'Would you like a drink?'

'Not right now, thank you daddy.'

For a while, the pair seemed to possess the only silence on the beach: Geraldine sitting, arms tucked around her knees, face shrouded by her floppy hat; her father lying back on his elbows, head tilted, face pointing to the sun; his spare body glistening in the heat. 

Geraldine squinted between a striped beach umbrella and a round woman in a red bikini.

'Daddy. Can we go in the sea?'

'Sweetheart. We've just got here. Let me fry a bit first.'

'But could I just go and have a look?'

Her father sighed. 'Sure honey. You know where it is?'

He watched his daughter stand up confidently in her orange swimsuit and point. 

'Just there, daddy.'

'OK. Come straight back.'  

Her father watched Geraldine step carefully out of their niche on the beach before wilting back onto his towel. He closed his eyes and rubbed his heels back and forth in the sand.

'Don't get lost, right?'

Geraldine set off towards the sparkling water. 

Immediately, she found she couldn't walk in a straight line. Like a colourful box of candies scattered tightly on a dusty table top, people had camped and arranged themselves every which way on the sand, leaving meandering lanes of social etiquette. 

She threaded her way through a maze of limp islands where sweltering bodies lay sprawled behind bags and clothes, folding chairs and plastic blowups. Children chased and shouted, dug holes or built small sandcastles. Adults broiled in the heat, on their own or in groups; sitting under shady umbrellas; chatting, feeding infants, reading books and magazines, listened to radios. They talked from behind sunglasses or under baseball caps or shouted from island to island; drank from coolers and lathered baking skin with white cream. 

The noise was huge and distracting but Geraldine kept her eye on the narrow bar of light getting nearer as she worked her way onwards step by step. A pink unicorn bobbed out at her, a red-faced man blowing into its tail. She nearly tripped over the grinning head of a boy poking from the sand.

Eventually, as if coming out of a dense woodland, she arrived at a strip of sand that ran away into a shimmering haze in either direction.

And there it was. The sea.

The water shone brightly under the fierce sky but the waves were disappointingly paltry and small. It was as if they could hardly bring themselves to rise above the heat, or had been stamped down by the countless legs of people spilling into the water. A noisy gang of children dug a channel in the surf. Brown, white and black bodies paddled or dunked in the water; laughing, running, throwing balls or frisbees.

'So many people,' Geraldine said to herself. 'What we need is a shark.'

A loud scream from the water made her jump. But it was just a couple, frolicking; the man tossing the woman into the air, splashing and giggling.

Geraldine walked into the water. It was tepid, only slightly cooler than the sand. The little waves tickled her toes. The sun was high; her shadow small and compact. She wandered up and down kicking the waves, and avoiding the sweaty people thronging at the edge. 

A barking dog chasing a ball ran too near and splashed her. She bumped into a big woman dangling a toddler. The woman snapped at her. Geraldine flinched and began to feel oppressed by the heat and the noise and the crowds flocking around her. She turned to head back, hoping her dad wasn't sunburnt, or cross that she'd been away too long.

Abruptly, she realised she didn't recognise where she was, or how she'd arrived at the water. Did she come out by this umbrella? Or that family group? 

She looked around, bewildered.

And felt she was being watched.

A short, plump, fair-haired man in sunglasses and the tiniest of swimming briefs stood in the thin waves, looking intently at her. 

He smiled.

Geraldine bit her knuckle and hurried away along the sand, hoping to remember people, or things. 

She looked back. The man was following her. And now he caught her eye and winked.

Everywhere in front, colours squeezed out from the press of sunbathers: red bikini tops, green swim shorts, yellow beach balls, patterned towels, striped umbrellas. Glare reflected from plastic and chrome, fused together, blinded her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Geraldine could see the man approaching. 

She moved away quickly away. Little steps in the sand. Not wanting to run. Not wanting to cry. Looking for her way in to the wall of people.

Despite her hat, the heat of the sun weighed heavily on her head and shoulders. 

The man was coming closer. 

Her orange swimsuit itched and clung to her skin awkwardly. 

Closer. 

The smell of a barbecue made her feel hungry. And lonely. 

And closer. She felt her eyes begin to prickle.

Like a crab, a hot, damp hand took hold of hers.

'Sweetheart.'

It was her dad. Tall and skinny. Not sunburned. Not cross.

'There you are Gerrie,' he said. 'Came to my senses. I shouldn't have let you come down here on your own.'

Geraldine swung her arms around her father in a fierce hug and broke into sobs. 

'Hey. It's alright honey. I'm here.' 

She looked over her shoulder quick enough to see the plump man in the tight swimming briefs disappear into the teeming crowds.

Geraldine's father stroked her hair.

'It's all a bit much isn't it,' he said. 'Let's grab our things. Still time for the zoo. It'll be cooler there.'