M.C. Ecsher Stories

The Package

He wanted to go into the dunes, but she didn't. They'd been told there
were naked people in the dunes and some people went there to have sex.
She knew he only wanted to go into the dunes to watch the naked people
and maybe watch them having sex, not to have sex with her. Each time
they walked along the beach, he kept looking up at the dunes, but there
was nothing to see. He kept finding reasons to take them away from the
water and onto the hot dry sand at the top of the beach. Sometimes it
was a piece of driftwood or sandcastle, or just to get a better view of
the sea. She kept looking into the dunes too, but she never saw more
life than grasshoppers and sand pouring between reeds with the hiss of
an egg timer.

The lizard scuttled across the ceramic floor and clambered up a pillar
that supported the balcony's roof. The white painted concrete glowed in
the afternoon sun, the lizard

The girl on the till mutters under her breath some words I can't
understand, but their meaning is clear. A queue has built up behind me.
Amazing how busy these little supermarkets are even in the middle of
the day. She flicks her head, sending a wave down her back and stares
and the man standing behind me.
'I'm sorry, I know it's in here somewhere,' I lie and delve into my
handbag's deepest pockets.
My purse should be there. When I bought breakfast Brian had done his
usual disappearing act when the waiter brought the bill, chasing the
kids out of the shop in giggles and screams. If only he could be as
good with money as the kids. This was meant to be his treat, his way of
making up for Easter. Typical Brian, he had to borrow the money for the
tickets off me. 'Put on your card until I get paid, will you pet.' He
never came up with spending money for the kids, but like he says,
they're my kids. I don't mind that much. It makes me feel good just to
see the grins on Alison and Simon's faces again. You can't buy that I
thought as Simon's t-shirt disappeared out of the door and I counted
the notes onto the table. And I put my purse away. I remember that. I
put it away.
It isn't there now. The sweets and sun tan lotion are still on the
till. I say loudly to the girl, 'my purse has gone. I have no money.' I
show her the inside of the bag and shake my head vigorously. She shrugs
and makes a clicking noise. I reach to pickup the bottles, to put them
back but the girl grabs my wrist. Her hand is thin and golden brown but
grip is firm. Her black eyes look right into mine. 'No money.' She
shakes her head and lifts my hand from the bottle. I can feel colour
prickling my cheeks. The man behind starts shaking his head too. I
can't bear it. I pull free and run from the shop, clutching my
bag.
The heat outside stops me in my tracks. Brian and the kids are gone.
They were going to wait on the stretch of haphazard pavement on the
other side of the road, but they're not there. The dusty street is
packed with holidaymakers squeezing between the battered cars that
litter the roadside. They cluster around the racks of inflatables and
sunhats from the supermarkets that clutter the roadside. I can't see
the children anywhere.
An old man with a beer belly and white socks bulging from under his
sandals strides by, followed by his haughty looking wife. I've seen
them around the hotel, the woman smiled at me yesterday.
'Have you seen my children? A little girl in a pink dress and a ten
year old in a black t-shirt.'
'The

'A little girl in a pink dress? I think I saw her down by the
telephones.'

A woman marches by from the direction of the beach pushing a buggie.
She pushes the buggie so quickly over the rough pavements that the
child inside flails around. Her bare-chested husband follows, an
ice-cream wielding child dangling from his arm, feet hardly touching
the floor.

with a woman I saw at the hotel this morning. I pull h

A moped and occasional moped that roars through the crowd.
People are milling along the street. Families struggle to carry their
umbrellas

outside the supermarket a young couple with a pram are trying
sunglasses on

I can't see them outside the souvenir shop or the next
supermarket.

'My purse has gone. I think it's been stolen. I know I had it this
morning. It was in the zip pocket in my bag. But it isn't there
now.'
'Ok Bren, calm down love. It's must be in there somewhere.'
'No I've looked. It was so embarrassing. The girl in the shop looked at
me like dirt. What are we going to do?'
He puts his big arm around my shoulder and sits me down on a wall at
the roadside.
'Come on pet, have another look for it. Take everything out of your
bag. I'm sure I'll be at the bottom.'
He empties my bag onto the floor and we both stare at the contents -
passports, lipstick, and wipes for the children but no purse.
'I told you it had gone.' I pick up the passports and put them back in
the bag. 'Well, we'll just have to use your money until we get it
back.'
'Ah.' Brian looks at his feet. 'The thing is Bren,' he says, the colour
fading from his red face, 'I'm a bit short of cash at the
moment.'
'How short?'
'Well I forgot the money over here was foreign. So I didn't get any
changed did I?'
'We can change it in that shop over there.'
'Eh, well I spent most of it on those cheap fags we bought on the
flight.'
'So you haven't got any money.'
'They were a bit more expensive than I thought.'
'Oh God Brian,' I say quietly. When I breathe in, the hot dusty air
scorches my lungs and I can't catch my breath. How am I going to look
after the kids for the rest of the week? I can't even feed them
tonight. 'What am I going to do?'
Alison skips up to us. 'Mommy, mommy, can I have this hat?'
Simon charges up behind her shouting, 'They've got a brilliant blow-up
crocodile Uncle Brian. Can we have it? Can we please?' He grabs at
Brain's hand and starts pulling him towards the shop. 'Come and
look!'
They look so happy, so care free. I fight tears back. 'Stop it Simon,
leave Uncle Brian alone.'
'But you have to see this crocodile mum.'
'No Simon, not now.'
'But, mum.'
'Right, that's it.' I snatch the hat from Alison, who bursts into
tears, and march to the shop. 'You're not having any hats or crocodiles
today.' I turn round. Simon has disintegrated into tears too. They
could be the unhappiest children in the world. Brian is not looking at
them or me. He's watching a dog flaked out in the sun.
'This is you fault,' I tell him. 'Look what you done to my children.'
He looks at me, opens his mouth but no words come out. 'How am I going
to last the rest of the week Brian, tell me that?' He stands. I don't
think he can think of anything to say. 'I'm sick of you sponging off
me. You're happy enough to treat the kids when its my money aren't you.
Aren't you? You said you were treating us.' He starts walking down the
street. 'So that's your answer, is it? Just abandon us? What a man you
are Brain Spencer. What a man you are,' I shout after him. I pull the
children to me. 'it's ok,' I tell them, 'we're going to be
alright.'

Funny how you meet people, isn't it? A maid barged into our bedroom
first thing this morning without knocking. Denise and I were right at
it. She must have got a right eye full. I've been in the forces so I
didn't mind too much but Denise was screaming and swearing at her to
get out. I tried to make her laugh about it but she locked herself in
the toilet. It took half an hour to coax her out, by which time it was
'my fault' for not locking the door. I wasn't going to start another
row by reminding her the maids had room keys. She didn't want to have
breakfast in the hotel, so we went to one of the tavernas

--This is work in progress. If you would like me to finish it, please
email or vote. Thank you --