"Elodie! Have you been here all night?"

She stretched, extending her limbs and pushing her calves into the ground as she arched her back. She blinked.

"Mama?"

"Can you get changed into something for sailing. We're taking the boat out today."

Elodie rolled over and felt the dirt move as she did so, the grass trailing through her fingers as she ran them across the ground.

"I'll be ready in a moment Mama," Elodie said as she opened her eyes and saw her mother descended the stairs that led up to the lawn. It was early morning and the light wasn't harsh, a warm, smooth, grainy beige. The sun hadn't even glimpsed over the horizon yet. It was good. It was nice.

Elodie brushed off her knees as she hunched herself into a seated position, looking up at her painting from the day before. She must have slept 15 hours. Lucky for her, she would have been forced to get up early for a sailing day. Her dad was probably already out on the water prepping the little boat. And now she was well rested, unlike the guests who had most probably staid up late drinking wine and laughing at trivial matters ( as they did ).

She stood herself up and walked slowly towards the stairs. The inner crevices of her eyes were still sticky and the edges cloudy and so she continuously blinked as she descended them cautiously, wobbling down one step at a time.

She took the slow route to her bedroom as to not trip over any plants. She liked the pebbles on her feet. She wondered why she always took the shortcut - but who puts thought into the paths they take?

on entering her room she didn't wobble but rather beelined towards her closet, removing her father's fishing blouse and her jeans. she looked in the mirror and combed her hair back,   still leaving it down. on leaving her room she heard everyone in the kitchen, and assuming they had gathered there, she avoided it, jumping over the fence into the road and walking towards the café to buy a panini before they went out.

she could feel the breeze from the sea on her naked calves, it was enough for the sails, and so she smiled, in a sort of all-knowing way as if she was some goddess who was in control of the tides.

the café was empty, so there was no need for her to wait in line. The food was displayed under a glass sheet, hung, drawn and quartered like a criminal from 19th century.

"s'il vous plaît puis-je avoir celui-ci?' she asked Antoine, who sat behind the counter playing solitaire.

"oui, oui," he muttered, scrambling up from his chair. "Laquelle?"

"celui-là" she said, pointing to it again.

he reached into the cabinet and pulled it out, engulfing it in newspaper, before passing it over the counter in exchange for a few coins.

"bonne journée," he said, as she turned and left. out on the road she saw her father, with the guests, walking down towards the beach, where their boat slumbered. she walked behind them, at a distance to observe, not interact.

the floor was hot and it hurt her feet. she made her way onto the dirt on the side of the road before sprinting down it to catch up with the others. they all looked so intrigued, excited. She felt good. This was one of those times she knew how to do something better than almost everyone doing it, except for her own father.

He had taken her out on the water since she was young, first on a smaller topaz, so she could learn how to steer using the rudder and control the main sheet. 'Wally', the name for her fathers bigger boat, had always been around, but she wasn't allowed to sail in it with him until she turned eleven.

Wally rested at the edge of the bay, the waves lapping up at either side of her. She was curvaceous and strangely also slim, and Elodie was excited by the notion of her leaning, the wind hugging one side of the sail.

Her father reached the boat first, clambering over and taking his position at the wheel. As Elodie neared she watched Julie and Dora lie down on the upper deck and Alexander sit at the bow, legs dangling. Her mother started to untie the knots that held the boat to the land, and waited as Elodie jumped on, and knowing what she had to do,  climbed onto the boom and unrolled the sail. As she did this her father led the boat away from the bay, surrounding her in a lovely heat. She worked quickly, ascending higher as she attached it at each spreader. At the top she paused for a moment before scrabbling back down on cue of a shout from her father who had initiated a tack.

The boat whipped and winded through white crested waves, and as ordered, every time they tacked ( to keep on course ) Elodie grappled onto the main sheet ( the rope controlling the sail ) and was swung out over the water as the boat leaned. Her feet sometimes skimmed over it, and she delighted in the tickle. The 'whoops' and 'woahs' of the guests made her smile, and she liked them looking at her, swinging, climbing, steering. she loved the feeling, the falling, as the boat sloped towards the water.

every time they hit a wave the water spit and sprayed in retaliation, spreading a sprinkle of salt across the boat that she knew too well she would have to clean.

she watched the guests as well, Dora squirming on the sun bed, her legs and feet nervously entwined, her hand stroking the fabric. she was wearing a silk sun dress, and it flittered.she would be perfect to paint, a semi-European nude ( of course the nakedness would have to be up to her imagination ).

Alexander still sat at the bow, admiring the scene before him. She dared not go up to him, he seems so blanketed in thought, as if he was in charge of the world. Her father worked at the wheel with a similar type of precision, but with less of an ego, knowing, humbly, his skill and respective power in relation to the sea.

He turned, now after two hours of sailing, to return on a straight course towards the bay, and that meant that Elodie could lie down. She curled onto the seat next to her father, where the sun still fondled her cheeks, dusting them with freckles, and where her mother could stoke her hair. A sanctuary. She didn't care what anyone was doing except for the hand of her mother.

Interrupted, of course, was her time there. A push signalled for her awake, and she was up again, ready to jump onto the beach and dock 'Wally' as everyone watched. She was agile, turning, knotting, and in minutes, with the help of her mother and father, the boat was securely locked into its place.

Her mother led the guests back up to the house, and as she left to see Paka, who whimpered for her touch, her father smiled. That felt good.