The families divided January between them, the Walkers taking the second half. Joy’s niece Heather, two months older than Nickie, stayed on as company for her. Languid days, mosquito nights, mussels spitting on a sheet of corrugated iron over a bonfire. Limp lettuce salad and sandflies dive-bombing the dressing. Yahtzee and Scrabble and fights over who got to be the Monopoly banker. Lost jandals and sunburn were the only upsets, and the sunburn didn’t really count — Nickie and Heather peeled themselves, then each other, then started browning all over again. Eugene and Joy slept in the caravan, the girls in the awning. Every night, the girls chatted and giggled until the early hours of the morning. Eugene bellowed at them to go to sleep before he fell into a deep slumber. Joy stayed awake, knowing they’d start again as soon as they heard his snores. Like an archaeologist sifting through dirt for signs of another age, Joy combed Nickie’s nightly conversations for the spirit of Gabrielle Baxter.
