JESS STOOD AT the edge of the dam holding her daughter’s hand. She had said they were going to the beach, but it wasn’t a beach, just a flat bit of gravel that fell away to the water. The water didn’t even lap. Around them, bathers were spread out on towels. One woman’s feet and ankles swelled. Her toenails were painted sapphire green, jewels in the fat. Jess felt queasy at so much flesh.

Frankie squeezed her hand. Jess looked down at her in her bubblegum-pink one-piece. Go on then, she said and squeezed her hand back. Don’t go deep, though, only up to here. She made a line across her stomach.