The beach with its soft sand, biting salt air, and cool lapping waves that bubbled and frothed around the ankles. Ellie didn't need extra persuading, the sea was part of who she was: a fisherlass with better prospects. Mrs Russell would say Ellie's veins were filled with seawater.

"Lovely, let's go." Ellie said enthusiastically. It would be just the thing to get further away from boys and their 'fishing poles'.