I leaped in and swept her up into my arms. ‘Ant!’ I said. ‘For Christ’s sake. It’s a pig. It’s dirty.’
‘It looks pretty clean to me,’ Ant said.
‘What if it’s got rabies or something?’
Ant laughed. ‘I don’t think pigs even get rabies,’ he said, and I betted mentally that he had no more idea about that than I did.
‘Or swine fever,’ I said. ‘Pigs get that. Or hepatitis, or . . . anything. I don’t know.’
‘Jesus,’ Ant said, standing. ‘Take a chill pill, Heath. You’re scaring the kids.’
‘I want to scare the kids,’ I told him solemnly. ‘I want to scare them enough that they stop letting that pig lick their hands.’
Half an hour later, at the pool, I made a second mistake of being wary of the fish, and this unleashed a whole battery of mockery.
‘Careful,’ Ant said. ‘You might catch fish fever. Or rainbow-trout rabies.’
‘I’m not scared of them,’ I said. ‘I just think they look creepy.’ But if I’m honest, I was a bit scared of the fish. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I wouldn’t have much liked the idea of brushing up against any kind of fish while swimming, but these fish had only one eye; these fish had deformed fins and twisted humpbacks. They really did look creepy.
‘Well, I think it’s fun,’ Amy said, jumping into the pool right near where the fish were all gathered. ‘It’s a pool, but it’s also nature.’
‘Of course it’s fun,’ Ant said, addressing Lucy. ‘Mummy’s just scared of her own shadow, that’s all.’
‘There’s one over there that’s like Jaws,’ Ben told me, giggling. ‘He’ll bite your toes off if you’re not careful.’
‘Thanks for that, Ben,’ I said. ‘That’s really helpful.’
‘Mummy’s scared of fishes, Mummy’s scared of fishes,’ Lucy taunted.
Amy returned to collect Ben then, and while I remained in the shallows with Sarah, she and Ant swam back to the deep end where all the fish were, with Lucy and Ben clinging to their backs.
Once they’d reached the far side, Sarah looked up at me adoringly and I thought she was going to ask if we could join them. If she had done so, I would have done my best to overcome my fears for her sake, but instead, she said, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t like the fishes either, Mummy.’
‘Oh, you, you’re gorgeous,’ I told her, snuffling her neck with kisses. ‘And I think the fish are all right really,’ I told her. ‘I just don’t want them brushing against my leg, because it tickles.’
‘Mummy’s scared of fishes!’ Lucy shouted again, this time from the far side of the pool. Some Spanish people glanced my way and I wondered if they understood what Lucy was saying.
‘She’s just showing off cos Ben’s here,’ Sarah said, making me laugh.
And then I thought about what she’d said, and thought that yes, she was right. Lucy was showing off because Ben was here. And Ant was showing off because Amy was here. And I wondered what, if anything, that meant.
We stayed at the pool for over three hours.
The kids ended up playing with some Spanish children, one of whom had a withered arm that looked like it might be from polio. They couldn’t say a single word to each other, but it didn’t matter. Watching them, I thought about the fact that prejudice is learned – about how naturally accepting kids are of each other.
I thought about Ant and his dreadful remarks about spics and dagos and realised that he hadn’t said either word since we’d arrived. Perhaps seeing that the Spaniards were people, ‘just like us’, had been enough to stop him thinking that way, or more likely he was simply watching his tongue. Whatever the explanation, it was a relief. I imagined Lucy and Sarah hearing those words from their peers at some point in the future and thought that, hopefully, they’d remember this day, this trip, and think, No, I’ve been to Spain, and the people there are nice.
I dozed under the tree for a while – knocked out, I think, by the heat – and when I woke up, Ant was chatting to Amy at the poolside, their legs dangling side by side in the water. In the gaps between the children’s shrieks, I could just about hear what they were saying, and I was shocked to realise they were comparing notes on their partners. Annoyed and intrigued in equal measure, I pretended I was still asleep and listened on.
‘Oh, that’s just like Joe,’ Amy was saying. ‘He never wants to do anything, either. But you know, I think it’s just normal stasis. It’s just what happens when you’re in a relationship for a long time.’
‘It’s people who’ve never moved,’ Ant said. ‘It’s people who have always stayed in one town, that’s the thing.’
‘Oh, Joe’s moved,’ Amy said. ‘He’s from Whitby, up north.’
‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Ant said. ‘Kind of like me.’
I almost sat up to point out that I too had moved – that I’d grown up in Essex – but I couldn’t really see what it would achieve.
A couple walked past, talking loudly, but when I could hear again, Amy was saying, ‘. . . with Joe, it’s not so much a geographical thing. It’s just that he’s contented with so little, you know?’
‘Heather’s the same,’ Ant said, and I thought, Huh! Luckily for you, I am.
‘It’s like, if you sit Joe in an armchair with a book, then he’s just happy for ever more,’ Amy said. ‘I got so bored with seeing him in that chair that I sold it on eBay, actually. But he just moved to the sofa instead.’
‘Reading’s so boring,’ Ant said. ‘I’ve never liked reading. I’d always rather be active, out and about, doing stuff.’
‘Well, you need to nourish your spirit too,’ Amy said. ‘I mean, I like to read about other people’s experiences, but it’s not the only thing I want from my life, you know?’
‘Heather’s a reader,’ Ant told her. ‘She’s got one of
