Page 67 of Sunrise By the Sea

The music was still going as she came out, finally clean, put Polly’s clothes into the washing machine, pulled out some fresh cotton pyjamas and crawled between the fresh sheets on her bed even though the sun was high in the sky. The soft bed and stiff cotton felt like heaven to her bone-weary body; she remembered, smiling, the little bird marching through the flour; the children crawling up Mr Batbayar and startling him awake; the excitement of the ovens. What could she do? she wondered. If she could get out of her own way, what might she do?

Next door, the little song tinkled on. But it did not keep her awake.

Chapter Forty-three

By the next day, the town was mobbed. Everyone was wandering up and down Beach Street. Many were helping; cousins and friends had shown up, waded in over the broken cobbles or commandeered rowing boats to sweep out and try and dry out the old cottages and fix things up. People had come from miles around, particularly after a news helicopter had done a broadcast on television, showing the devastation to the ancient causeway. It was truly amazing, Polly had thought: people had come from miles away, with blankets (not really necessary) and mops (very, very necessary).

The weather stayed glorious so the streets were full of people, whom Andy promptly manage to oblige with beer and fish and chips, and the grocer’s, set back from the main drag, got rid of all the newly acquired ice cream which almost made up for their ruined stock.

But Polly was still faced with the endless scraping task of trying to clean up the ovens and was still without a working door. She was baking at home but that had to go to the workers, so selflessly giving up their time to put the town back together, so she was missing all the trade, even when all the fishermen trooped up the hills and presented themselves as her personal cleaning army, announcing as their slogan, ‘RECLAIM THE PASTY!’

In the early afternoon, an unexpected quiet fell on the harbour-side, and Polly looked up. Everyone was staring at a ridiculous vehicle that had appeared on the causeway. It looked like a convertible on the top and – no, surely not – a boat underneath, and had a big sign on it saying AQUANDA.

A crowd gathered. As it neared the submerged end of the causeway, the car took a sharp right turn and, as the crowd literally gasped, launched itself, taking a cut through the waves and sending a jet of water behind it.

The audience gasped again and some of the children started clapping as the car/boat spun a wide circle in the sparking water and came to a halt in a skid on the beach.

‘Stop smirking,’ said Polly to Huckle, as they both stood watching, the twins, who had been given little mops of their own, dashing out breathlessly.

‘LOOOOK! AT! THE CAR!’

Avery was hopping up and down with excitement.

‘IT’S A BOAT!’

‘Do you need to pee, Avery?’

‘NO! YES! BUT! AFTER THE BOAT CAR!’

Well, if the worst came to the worst, he was outside and already filthy, thought Polly to herself, failing to win Mother of the Year for the fifth year in a row.

‘Oh, come on, it’s cool,’ said Huckle, nudging her elbow.

‘It’s ridiculous!’ said Polly. ‘I bet it cost more than the entire contents of this shop.’

‘It’s his money,’ said Huckle.

‘I know, I know,’ said Polly. ‘I’m being bitter. Ignore me.’

‘IT’S! A! CAR! BOAT!’

‘It is,’ said Polly laughing. ‘A! CAR! BOAT!’

The doors of the water car came up sideways like a DeLorean, and Reuben and Kerensa stepped out, both grinning broadly. Between them was Lowin, wearing a T-shirt embroidered with a huge cobra, and looking like someone who knew exactly how jealous of him every other kid there would be, and enjoying every second of it.

‘WOAH,’ said Avery. ‘Lowin ismyfriend. I’m go say hello.’

And he dashed across to the harbour’s edge where Lowin was mounting the steps.

‘HI, LOWIN! HI! HI, LOWIN!’

Lowin gave him a slightly disdainful look as he took his parents’ hands and carried on, as if he were a young prince inspecting his town.

‘HI, LOWIN! HI! HI, LOWIN! HI!’

Polly hit her head on Huckle’s shoulders.

‘Just think about his therapy bills,’ said Huckle soothingly.

---