My grandmother held out her hand. Above our heads, the sea was capped with rigid white waves from where mermaids waved. A penguin nun emerged from a door cut into an underwater cliff. Entering a palace of clowns dressed in shells swinging from ropes of seaweed, we sat upon the backs of whales while sea horses served us tiny sausages wrapped in thin, succulent kelp. As we ate, the Ring Master, Walrus Blubber, twitched his long, thick whiskers.

Then my grandmother rose and I watched her swim to the centre of the room bedecked with coral carvings. From a golden door, five octopus entered, waving their long legs and, at my grandmother’s silent command, they began to dance and, as the octopus danced, swirling around her, their skins changed into a kaleidoscope of colours.

Later, after watching seals bounce yellow sponges on their noses, my grandmother lead me back through the door holding me close until we swam up to the surface. On reaching a mottled, limpet covered boulder, we clambered up onto it and sat in silence for a long moment.

As if sensing my confusion, my grandmother said, ‘It was real, Sophie. It’s our secret.’

As we walked along the coastal path towards my grandparents travelling circus, I glanced down at the sea and caught the flash of a silver mermaid’s tail in azure blue water. In the near distance, we could hear the yapping of my grandmother’s dancing poodles and could smell the aroma of fried onions.