HOLIDAYS WITH TOM
Tom went on holiday with his mother in April. They went to the same place as last year, a little beach way up north. He spent half the trip curled up on pillows in the back of the car. For the rest of the time they played ‘I spy’, until they finally arrived at the caravan park.
They stayed in the same old caravan. It was in the furthest corner of the caravan park, next to the beach. It had a little path made of broken shells that crunched under Tom’s feet as he carried the bags inside.
After they unpacked their things, Tom went to buy fish and chips from Mr Guthrie’s shop. ‘Goodness me, you’ve grown,’ said Mr Guthrie. He sprinkled their meal with salt and vinegar and Tom carried the hot meal to the caravan.
Before going to bed, Tom and his mother went for a walk on the beach. Tom looked at the sky. He could see what the weather would be like the next day.
Clouds boiled like porridge in a pot and lightning cut into the sea.
‘We’d better close all the windows tonight,’ Mum said.
Tom thought about being tucked up, safe and warm, with the storm bumping into the caravan, and his mother asleep in the fold-down bed.
While they slept, the wind blew up waves and clouds blocked out the moon and stars.
The sea rolled, tumbling tiny things about.
The next morning they woke to rain washing over the caravan. They played games inside all day until it stopped raining, late in the afternoon. Then, Mum said, ‘Let’s go and see what the storm’s thrown up.’
Tom ran ahead of his mother. He turned into the track that led to the sand dunes. He climbed to the top and beneath him he saw the beach covered with seaweed. The seaweed looked like cabbage on a plate. The waves had carved a little cliff near the water’s edge. Tom ran towards it, but just as he was about to jump off, he saw something in the sand below. He stopped and looked to see what the storm had sent him.
A little penguin lay still on the sand with its flippers stretched out flat.
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