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and pull of the waves mesmerising, further out the sunlight glinting like crystals on their choppy peaks and the white-tipped froth as they broke surging onto the shore. A trio of gulls swooping and crying above, the bark of a dog playing in the surf. Along the beach, a middle-aged couple walking hand in hand. A family playing rounders on a pitch etched with sticks into the sand, using discarded jumpers as posts.
    “Race you to the sea!” Kate was off, suddenly feeling carefree. Charlotte scrambling up, her mood lifted, soon on her heels. Michael behind, carefully jogging with Emily in his arms.
    The girls giggled and shrieked as they reached the icy cold of the shallows, which took your breath away (this was no Mediterranean beach, but Northumberland!), splashing, kicking into the surf, jumping waves, spraying Michael and Emily as they joined them. Emily grinning from the safety of her father’s arms. Michael spraying the other two back. Sounds of laughter, love. A family together.
    They strolled back up the beach, shorts damp, sticking saltily to their legs. Then sat tucking into ham sandwiches and crisps, with juicy tomatoes from Grandpa’s greenhouse; they’d visited Kate’s parents the weekend before. And yummy chocolate cake that Kate had made, with ripe strawberries that tasted of summer and candyfloss. Kate set to with the wet wipes on sticky fingers, and then sun cream, protection factor 50, fearing that the girls might burn. Lottie squirming as the sand scoured her skin along with the cream.
    “Okay, then, time for some super sandcastle-making.” Michael stood up, tall and tanned, his blue eyes glinting happily in the bright midday light. Kate thought he had a look of the actor, Bradley Cooper. They’d seen a film with him in the other night, hmm, nice.
    Kate sat watching with Em on her knee, as he dug out a moat with Lottie’s pink plastic spade and piled up foundations – yes, this was going to be a mega castle. He never did anything by halves, was competitive, too. He had already eyed the small circle of a castle another family had made further down the beach. Charlotte then began to fill her pink castle bucket ready for the turrets. He showed her how to pack the sand in so the shape would work better, then turned it over carefully for her, letting her pat the top, ready for the lift-off. Four perfect turrets, on four rounded heaps of packed sand.
    A surge of happiness filled Kate. It was lovely having him here with them, making the most of his day off. She looked forward to tucking the girls up in bed later, to that time when it would be just the two of them, when she could trace the muscles of his arms, his thighs, feel the grit of saltiness from the beach on his skin, brush her fingertips over his chest and down… like she used to. But, hey! Who was she kidding? By the time the girls were finally settled she’d probably be too knackered to think about anything other than sleep – that was happening far too often of late.
    “Come on then, Em, let’s find some shells to help make this pretty.” Kate perched Emily on her hip and set off in search of shells and sea gems. They found some cone-shaped white limpets and purply-blue mussels, and a few pieces of smoothed stone and frosted green glass. They let Charlotte do the decorating. Michael making the finishing touches with some dried seaweed for the walled-garden area.
    “Okay. I think that’s done.” Father and daughter stood up, admiring their handiwork.
    “It’s super-duper, Daddy.”
    “Got the camera, Kate? I put it in the side pocket of the bag.”
    Kate rummaged to find it, leaving Emily to sit on the blanket a minute. Charlotte was off up the beach again on a mission with her bucket.
    “Charlotte,” Michael shouted down the beach, “Come back for a picture, sweetheart.”
    “Finding shells,” she shouted back.
    “I’m sure we’ve got enough now.” The turrets and walls were laden with them.
    “Just two more.” She bent