Dad had a plan. They were going fishing. Just him and his girls. A proper fishing trip.
The only thing was, they had to leave at five o'clock in the morning.
"That's when the fish are awake," said Dad.
"Why?" asked Sophia.
"That's just fishing," said Dad.
Amelia didn't say anything because she was asleep on Dad's shoulder, still wearing one pyjama leg. He'd given up trying to finish dressing her.
This was a theme.
The lake was beautiful in the early morning. Pink and orange and completely still, like someone had put a mirror on the ground. Mist floated just above the water. It was the kind of quiet that makes you feel small in a nice way.
They sat on the wooden pier with their rods. Dad baited the hooks with great seriousness. Sophia watched with great seriousness. Amelia immediately fell back asleep on the fishing bag.
They waited.
Nothing happened.
They kept waiting.
"Yes," said Dad.
"Are they coming?"
"They're thinking about it," said Dad.
More waiting.
Amelia woke up. This was when things got interesting.
Dad had packed snacks — crackers, cheese, a bag of little fish-shaped biscuits, which in hindsight was a strange choice. Amelia found the bag of biscuits. She ate three. Then she walked to the edge of the pier, very carefully, looked down at the water, and poured the rest of the bag in.
"Fissh," said Amelia, pointing helpfully.
She had fed the fish. The fish biscuits to the actual fish. She found this extremely logical.
Dad looked at the water. The water was suddenly full of small, excited fish surfacing to eat the biscuits. More fish than they'd seen all morning. More fish than they'd hoped to catch.
They didn't catch a single fish. Not one.
On the way home, Dad stopped at the fish and chip shop. They sat on a sunny bench outside with newspaper-wrapped chips and battered fish and cold lemonade. Seagulls circled hopefully.
Sophia fed a seagull a chip. Then twenty seagulls arrived.
It was a very busy bench after that.
Amelia ate her chips one at a time, very slowly, watching the seagulls with suspicious eyes.
"No," said Dad.
"Where did it come from?"
"The sea."
"Did that fisherman feed it biscuits?"
Dad thought about this. "Maybe," he said.
They drove home with greasy fingers and full bellies and both girls fast asleep before the car had left the car park.
Dad drove very carefully so they wouldn't wake up.
