Free Paper Chains by Nicola Moriarty Page A

using India’s camera to take artistic photos of the Helter Skelter at the end of the pier, the merry-go-round with the sea in the background and the mad Londoners who were braving the ocean despite the fact that the water temperature was still less than ten degrees. They both agreed that while Brighton was beautiful, it basically didn’t compare to Australian beaches – and India found herself feeling quite loyal towards her old local beaches back home.
    India and her grandmother used to spend Christmas every year at the beach. They would pack prawns and salads into an esky, take fresh buttered bread rolls, one bottle of lemonade and one bottle of champagne, then catch the one and only bus that ran on Christmas Day to the nearest beach. To India, it was the perfect way to spend Christmas – just the two of them, sitting on the picnic rug that they spread out across the white sand. Usually in the afternoon, her grandmother would take a nap in the shade of a tree while India swam in the ocean. It was why India had been drawn to the beach last Christmas in Ibiza – her first Christmas without her grandmother – but it simply hadn’t been the same.
    ‘Seriously, what’s with all the pebbles?’ asked India, as they stood on the beach, watching yet another swimmer emerge from the surf with their arms wrapped around themselves, shivering.
    ‘Did you know that there are apparently over six hundred million rocks on this beach?’ asked Hannah in response.
    ‘Really? And where did you get this very useful piece of information?’ India asked with interest.
    ‘Something my dad told me when I was a kid. He’d been on a business trip to England. Must have decided to visit Brighton while he was here, because he brought me back one of those snow globes with a little model of Brighton pier inside. It’s sort of weird looking at the life-size version of it actually. Like I keep expecting to see snowflakes swirling down around it. Anyway, it’s just one of those facts that stuck with me.’
    India watched as Hannah’s eyes remained fixed on the pier and she thought for a moment that Hannah was about to cry. But then she suddenly brightened and suggested they find somewhere for lunch, and India decided that just for today, she would leave Hannah be – no probing her for information or demanding to know her secrets. Today, she would give her a break – a proper day off, from everything.
    They stayed in Brighton until late in the afternoon, exploring the town, taking more photos – of the pavilion, of art sculptures, of pretty buildings and of interesting people if they thought they could do it without getting caught. On the train on their way home, India fell asleep with her head resting on Hannah’s shoulder and she woke to the sound of Hannah’s voice as she gently eased her upright. ‘Sorry – our stop,’ Hannah whispered.
    ‘You’re much nicer than me,’ India said as she sat up and stretched. ‘I would have elbowed me in the ribs after what I did to you this morning.’
    ‘Ha. Couldn’t do it to you – you looked so peaceful.’
    They headed out to the platform and India gave Hannah a hug as they said goodbye. ‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘today was fun. Been nice lately, just hanging out with you instead of always meeting new people, making new friends every bloody day.’
    ‘You should stick in the one place more often then,’ Hannah replied.
    ‘Maybe . . .’ said India.
     
    A couple of days later Hannah convinced India to – reluctantly – join her for an early morning jog before her shift at the museum.
    ‘How’s things?’ Hannah asked conversationally as they wound their way along the track.
    ‘Are you joking?’ gasped India. ‘You want to have a chat while we’re doing this?’ Her face was bright red and her chest was heaving. Hannah on the other hand had barely a pink spot on her cheekbones. She would jog lightly on the spot to keep moving each time India stopped to catch her