Jay was laughing and waving to us as we watched from the beach, telling us how nice the water was and that we should go and join him.
That was the last we heard from him. I remember protesting as Kirsty pulled me to my feet. I remember the pair of us running towards the water.
And I remember Jay’s screams as something pulled him beneath the waves.
That was ten years ago now. I was only nine. Kirsty was eleven and our brother was thirteen.
“Unlucky for some!”
“Don’t butt in. That’s not even funny. You wanted to know why I hate this place, I’m telling you.”
We’d always go to this same beach every summer; my aunt and uncle owned a chalet on the seafront so it was a cheap holiday for the family. I never liked swimming but Kirsty and Jay loved it. I preferred to sit on the beach and build sandcastles. Maybe eat an ice cream.
I remember that year we met some other kids, I remember what they looked like but for the life of me, I can’t remember their names.
“I’m going to get an ice cream, do you want one?”
“No! Finish the story. I’m here; nothing’s going to happen.”
