Prim and propper, she sat on her deck-chair, gloved hands folded, feet together and a handky perched on top of her gray head. She seemed a picture of misery. The beach scene unfolded, bright sea under featureless sky, pale sand scuffed, children’s feet and animal paws, seagull claws and happy laughs and caws; she ignored it all.
Trousers rolled to his knees, barefoot (and hairy of foot), Grandpa kicked the beach-ball between seashell goals and laughed as he played with the child. Then they came together to sit by gGandma’s knee, their love the key. Prim and proper, she smiled.