She pulled off her right sock and shook out the sand, then turned it inside out and hit it fifteen or so times against the arm of her plastic chair, just to get out every last little grain. She lay it over her shoulder for safekeeping, and proceeded to do the same with the other sock.

“How did it go?” asked Sarah, having heard the lashes of undergarments against furniture and coming in to see what was happening. Eilidh didn’t respond. She took a shoe in each hand and bashed them together, and little pieces of beach dust rained down onto the floor, and she kept going until the rain ceased and only sound came out.

“I wouldn’t do that inside.” Eilidh looked up at Sarah, her eyes and lip beginning to betray her, as her face grew wet and red. Sarah didn’t waver. “I’ll get the brush.”