Page 39 of The Big Dip in Crumbleton
‘I have my moments,’ Pete grinned. ‘Need a hand getting into it?’
‘I think I can manage,’ said Scarlett dryly. ‘Though I’ve no idea what to do with the claws.’
‘They go over your hands, obviously,’ Pete demonstrated with his own costume. ‘I reckon the really tricky bit is going to be the antennae headband. Bet it’ll slide off while we’re swimming.’
Scarlett looked increasingly dubious, but she took the costume from him with a resigned sigh.
‘Right, I’ll let you get changed,’ he said. ‘Meet you outside in ten?’
‘Make it fifteen,’ Scarlett amended, eyeing the costume with a mixture of resignation and determination. ‘This might take some figuring out.’
Pete retreated, closing the kitchen door behind him. He changed quickly in one of the toilet cubicles, emerging to find Libby waiting for him, her face now adorned with an impressive array of blue and green scales that extended down her neck and arms.
‘You look…nice,’ she smirked, tapping one of his antennae so it wobbled. ‘Very you.’
‘Says the bargain basement mermaid,’ Pete retorted good-naturedly. ‘Where’d you get the scales?’
‘Kendra did them,’ Libby preened. ‘She’s going to art college next year, you know.’
‘She’s got talent,’ said Pete, ‘though I’m not sure turning my little sister into half a fish was the best use of it.’
Libby stuck out her tongue, then glanced around. ‘Where’s Scarlett? Don’t tell me she’s chickened out of the fancy dress bit?’
‘She’s changing,’ said Pete.
As if on cue, the kitchen door opened, and Scarlett emerged – or at least, Pete assumed it was Scarlett beneath the bright pink lobster outfit. The costume was slightly too large for her, giving her a distinctly bulbous appearance, and the antennae on her headband were already listing to one side.
‘Don’t laugh,’ she muttered as she approached them.
Libby, predictably, did exactly that.
‘You two!’ she wheezed, doubling over. ‘What a lovely pair of prawns!’
‘We’re lobsters, actually,’ said Pete, straightening Scarlett’s antennae with a gentle touch. ‘Lobsters that have been cooked, because we’re pink – but lobsters nonetheless.’
‘I stand corrected,’ said Libby, still giggling. ‘Though I think the technical term is “romantic idiots”.’
Before Pete could respond, Mick’s whistle cut through the chatter, signalling that it was time to head down to the beach.
The crowd began to move en masse towards the door, a peculiar parade of sea creatures and mythological beings. One guy, who was dressed as a beach ball with legs, had quite a bit of trouble squeezing through the doorway.
‘Time to face the crowds,’ said Pete, offering Scarlett one padded claw. ‘Ready?’
‘As I’ll ever be,’ she said, slipping her own claw into his with a little smile.
Outside, the day was bright and clear, with a breeze off the sea that carried the tang of salt and seaweed. There were even more people in evidence than the previous day, and there was a decidedly festive atmosphere on the beach.
As Pete led Scarlett onto the golden sand, Lou spotted them immediately, her eyes widening at the sight of their matching costumes.
‘Well, well, well,’ she said, looking between them with undisguised glee. ‘What have we here?’
‘Don’t start,’ Scarlett warned, but there was no heat in her voice.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Lou, though her expression suggested otherwise. ‘Nice to see you two getting along so… swimmingly.’
Pete groaned at the pun. ‘That was terrible, even by Chilly Dipper standards.’
‘Aw, look,’ Doris cooed, coming up to stand next to Lou. ‘Our little Scarlett’s coming out of her shell!’
