Little Otto

‘I do wish you wouldn’t call me that,’ Elizabeth protested as we drove past fields of sugar cane, cows munching at their fringes with a bovine indifference to heat.

‘Sorry darling,’ Sylvia replied absently. I’d joined them for their holiday in the sun, a harmless male to help out.

Back on the beach, Elizabeth dug her sunshade into the sand while Sylvia and I stripped down for a swim. At the line of buoys she handed me the mask and snorkel and gave me a salty little kiss.

Through the mask, I spotted a baby octopus tuck himself into a crevice of rock till you wouldn’t know he was there. What you could do without any bones!

Elizabeth’s trouble was too many bones. She threw down her book. ‘I saw the two of you snogging out there.’

‘Lizzie darling, it was just a bit of fun.’

‘Fun!’ Elizabeth choked, trying to run up the beach in her flip-flops. ‘And I do wish you wouldn’t call me that.’