"And then he said 'I'll come in a jiffy'. What?" Julie paused at Jedith's nudge and upward nod. She looked up just as Harold's head eclipsed the sun. "What is it, Harold?"
"Jasfoup wondered if you'd like to find somewhere to eat. It's a couple of hours until dusk and we could probably do with something, even if it's just to hydrate."
"Sure." Julie smiled. "Chinese would be nice."
"I'll tell him," Harold turned and began to walk back.
"One," said Julie, "two... three..."
"Hey!" Harold turned again. "Were in ancient Syria. There won't be any Chinese restaurants."
"My bad," said Julie, keeping a straight face despite Jedith's giggles. "Make it an Indian then."
Jedith let out a whoop of laugher, after which Julie couldn't keep a straight face.
Harold returned to Jasfoup and looked with dismay on the sandcastle he'd spent two hours building, crushed flat beneath Jasfoup's feet. "Gee," he said. "Thanks for that. They said they were hungry too, and could they have Chinese."
"Only if they fetch it themselves," said Jasfoup. "They'll have a bit of a wait, mind, the shop doesn't open for four thousand years."
"I did overhear something about you, mind," said Harold.
"Yes. One of your many sexual predilections. I wondered where all my jiffy bags were going."