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‘And shortly I shall have to whip your tight boy’s ass,’ cried Joost. David went on calmly reading Huckleberry Finn. Peter had an exercise book and was making notes.

André kept the ball in the air and counted. It was actually unnecessary, because if he had to, he could go on till closing time. With his left or his right foot, with his head, or with a combination of all three.

I did nothing. Well, I looked at the others.

Then she came floating along. André stopped counting, let the ball roll away, and turned round. Joost interrupted his torture activities and looked in the same direction as André, while his mouth fell open and his tongue appeared. David closed his book and looked, too. Peter stopped writing and turned his head to the right.

She was radiant. She drew all the energy of the swimming pool to herself and seemed unaware of the havoc she was causing. She laid a towel on the grass, sank down like a leaf on a breath of wind in late summer, turned onto her back, drew up her right leg, and closed her eyes.