Becky eyed her neighbour emerging from the blue bach next door. As always she was wearing a dazzling floral dress, but they suited this little old lady with her long grey plaited hair and black jandals.

Today’s dress was vivid yellow with white daisies, and it came with a matching face mask. Nothing like the grey suits leaving the rows of domino-stacked terraced houses Becky was used to seeing at home. Here, in the seaside settlement of Ngunguru, on the other side of the world, everything was different.

Ivy was her name. Dad liked her, mostly because when he’d moved in she’d called over with some lemon cupcakes. It was the small things that mattered when times were hard; something Becky had learnt living with Mum in the UK at the start of the pandemic. Anyhow, the baking meant Dad always stuck his head over the fence to chat when Ivy was in her yard, weeding or whatever it was she did.

She was definitely intriguing. Every afternoon, at roughly the same time, Ivy’s gate clicked shut and she walked to the estuary, her eyes flitting this way and that, as if she was looking for something.

Becky had followed her a few times since her arrival. It wasn’t like there was a lot else to do. All Dad ever did was hang out with Deirdre, her so-called stepmum. There’d been others in the past but they’d all moved on swiftly. This time it was different. There was Ben, her new baby stepbrother. And that changed everything. At least that’s what Dad said.

He was right, of course. It did change things. It made him busier. Busy with Deirdre and the baby, so there were no fun times any more. It was no wonder she was bored and was following an old lady around.

Here. In New Zealand. Where. We. Once. Did. Cool. Things.

Becky strummed her fingers against the windowsill as Ivy strolled past, then grabbed her mask and phone and slid out the front door. She texted their family group chat. Gone for a walk, back soon.

She hurried after Ivy, following her across the road, along the grassy banks of the estuary, and down to the shore. The tide was halfway out, and the tops of golden sandbanks glistened.

As usual, Ivy hauled a tiny turquoise dinghy across the sand, fished around for rowlocks in her cloth backpack, and returned to the bank plucking oars hidden in the straggly kikuyu grass. Then Ivy looked up, her twinkling blue eyes catching Becky’s own.

Becky froze. She had the feeling you get when you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t. Ivy held her gaze. A long second passed. Becky waved, and looked quickly away, flicking her sandy blonde hair out of her face, before holding up her phone and scanning the estuary. She posted the video on her socials to prove that was her reason for being here. #windsurfgirl #noboard #notfair