IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC

13. Think

Lunch makes Una happy. She sits next to Frank, far enough away from Timothée that she won't feel the heat of his arm, that they won't brush each other as he reaches for the salt. (But close enough. Close enough that she can reach out and kick his foot with her own.)

Timmy orders cod and chips and she watches with amusement as he is introduced to the concept of mushy peas. He nibbles on a forkful, pressing his lips together gently.

"It's like, um. Food for babies," Timothée remarks, stabbing a chip with the tines of his fork and nibbling on the end of that, too.

"Do you like it?" Fen asks, and Timothée smiles knowingly. Says nothing, and everyone laughs.

--

After lunch, they go back down to the beach and spend the afternoon in the sun. Frank buys a pair of swimming goggles from the stand on the seafront, which sells buckets and spades and fishing nets, as well as goggles.

He looks ridiculous.

Una laughs. "Do you want me to take a photo?" she asks, sitting up and shuffling backwards, resting her weight on her hands.

Frank shrugs. "Maybe Timmy should be in it," he suggests, and Una looks over at Timmy.

Timmy, who has been sitting on his little towel next to her for an hour and a half, staring out at the sea and then reading at intervals.

Timmy, who has been fiddling with a toothpick from the cafe since he picked it up. She watches him roll it around at the side of his mouth. Pluck it out and smile up at Frank. "I will be in the photo, if you want," he nods. Glances over at Una, who is still staring dumbly at the corner of his mouth. Her eyes flick up to meet his and there is a moment when his mouth quirks to one side. It's a smirk, not a smile, and suddenly he is hauling himself up with Frank's assistance, the two of them careening off down the sand. Una stares at the indent of Timothée's palm in the sand, and listens to three sets of waves before she can get up herself.

She pads down the beach to where they are standing and Frank pulls her into his side. "Smile!" he grimaces, pulling Timmy to his other side. Una looks diligently towards the camera and doesn't let her expression falter even when Timothée reaches his hand around Frank and gently places it on her lower back. His skin is warm against her own and Una squints in the sunlight, waiting for her mother to hurry up and take the picture.

"I like that bikini, Una, where'd you get it?" Fen asks, lowering the camera slightly. Una feels both boys turn to look at her and tries to remain nonchalant as she says New Look. Tries to fight everything inside her telling her to punch Frank when he mutters:

"Mm, so does Timmy."

Timothée, it seems, is a little bewildered by this comment.

"What?" he asks, looking towards Frank. "No! I'm not- that's-"

His voice is high pitched and Frank opens and closes his mouth in time with him. "But- b-b-but- I'm joking, Tim," he laughs.

When the picture is finally taken and his hand has left its spot on her back, she turns to look at Timothée.

(And either he's blushing furiously or very, very sunburnt.)

--

On the way back home, it is quiet. A warm silence hums in the car, and Una lets her head roll back against the seat, falling towards the window.

Timothée, on account of his long legs and the fact that it's his birthday, has been allowed the front seat on the way back. Fen doesn't give up her position in the front of the car lightly, but it seems Timothée is deserving of her generosity. Una stares at the console and then at the dashboard, then flicks her eyes towards Timothée's legs. In all honesty, he still looks a little cramped, his feet placed together like a frog's. The hair on his calves is dark.