An Almost Perfect Holiday
Page 24
‘You too,’ said Maggie, smiling back. The pebble was weighty in her palm and she curled her fingers around it carefully, not wanting to smudge the ink. A handful of courage, she thought to herself, continuing along the sand. It was just what she needed.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Izzie was swimming in the pool. Length after length after length, feeling strong and energetic, enjoying being on her own for once. All the things that had stressed her out this summer didn’t seem so important while she was here in the water, the sun warm on her shoulders, her muscles singing with the exertion of movement. The exams she’d taken – whatever. The pressure of trying to keep up with her friends – whatever. The thought of moving on to sixth form and a whole new chapter of her life beginning – pah. She’d deal with all that when the time came.
She did a splashy tumble-turn just for the sheer fun of it, surfacing halfway across the small pool. I am a dolphin, she thought. A mermaid. I am . . . being stared at by a man in a motorbike helmet. What? Where had he come from?
‘Hi there,’ said the man, pulling off his helmet and tucking it under one arm. Oh, okay, less of a ‘man’ actually, because he wasn’t that much older than her, at a guess. Eighteen? Nineteen? He was quite sexy, with his flop of dark-brown hair and wide smile. ‘Mrs Lorna Brearley?’ he asked, peering at the address label of a parcel he was holding.
Izzie sniggered and swam to the side of the pool. ‘Do I look like a Mrs Lorna Brearley?’ she asked, then pointed up at the farmhouse. ‘She lives there.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘She’s my nan’s friend, actually.’ He grinned and a dimple poked a small attractive crater in his left cheek. He was wearing faded jeans with biker boots and she could see a white T-shirt under his leather jacket. The more she looked at him, the hotter her face seemed to get. He was fit. ‘So what is your name?’ he asked.
She laughed. Was he flirting with her? It felt as if there was a warm current crackling between the two of them. ‘Izzie,’ she replied, gazing up at him. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Fraser,’ he said, scooping a hand through his hair. He looked bashful suddenly. Maybe he was seventeen even, she thought. ‘You on holiday here?’ He rolled his eyes at himself. ‘Stupid question.’
‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Here for another week.’ They looked at one another and smiled again. ‘You’re local, are you?’ she added, even though she was already pretty sure of the answer. She just wanted to keep him talking, have him there in her eyeline a while longer.
‘Yeah, born and bred,’ he said. Then he hesitated. ‘So, um . . . What are you up to later?’
Her skin felt prickly even though the air was warm. Oh my God. Was he about to ask her out or something? Was this going to be a holiday romance? Her first kiss? Her mind was racing, but she did her best to play it cool. ‘Not a lot,’ she said. She was about to shrug, but the straps of her swimming costume felt too precariously balanced to risk it. Yikes! Do not flash the handsome biker dude, whatever you do. ‘Why?’ she added boldly. ‘Got any bright ideas?’
‘A few,’ he said, one eyebrow quirked.
Her stomach seemed to turn inside out. He was gorgeous! Way better-looking than any of the boys back home.
‘I’ll probably be finished by two. We could . . . hang out?’ he went on. ‘Down at the beach – do you know Swanpool?’
‘Nope,’ she said. ‘But I could find it.’ Her heart was pounding so hard she was surprised the water wasn’t pulsing around her. Just like that, her day had changed into something wildly exciting.
They both smiled at each other for a long hot second. The air quivered with possibilities. Then he waggled the parcel in the air, somewhat self-consciously. ‘Right. Well, I should drop this off. Two o’clock, remember. See you by the café?’
‘Yep,’ she said dazedly. ‘See you later. Bye, Fraser,’ she added, just because she wanted to say his name out loud. Fraser. This handsome boy who wanted to meet her later. YES!
He strode away and she turned a fast splashy somersault, wanting to squeal with excitement. All of a sudden this holiday had got so much better. Miles better! As soon as he was round the corner and out of sight she got out of the pool and rushed back into the cottage. Thank God Mum and the others weren’t here to make stupid comments and ask annoying questions. Thank goodness something fun had happened at last. She’d finally be able to go back on the group chat later with good news: Only joking about the older man, she would type with some laughing emojis. But guess what did happen today . . . !
She’d try and get a selfie of them together, she decided, thundering up the stairs, just to show her friends how hot he was. Ooh! Would he be wearing trunks at the beach? Would he try to kiss her? Help, and what was she going to wear?
Running into the bathroom, Izzie felt more cheerful than she had done in weeks. Now then: shower, blow-dry, make-up . . . she had a lot to do. There was no time to waste!
The temperature rose as the hours passed. The wind dropped away and the humidity stealthily increased, so that customers in outdoor cafés fanned themselves with paper menus and dogs lay panting in the shade. The air felt treacly; it became an effort to move. In cars and buildings, fans and air-conditioning were turned up higher. Men pulled at their shirt collars. Women dabbed their perspiring foreheads. Clouds massed threateningly in the sky, like an army gathering. In gardens around the town, laundry was unpegged and brought inside. There’s a storm coming, people said knowingly to each other.
Em wasn’t too fussed about the weather. At least while they were on the boat, it felt as if some air was still moving around, and she always quite enjoyed the drama of a thunderstorm. In fact despite the heat and general sweatiness of the atmosphere, she would go so far as to say that this was turning out to be the best day of the week so far. Trelissick was gorgeous. Jack had seemingly forgotten the argument in the car and was actually being really sweet with Seren, playing hide-and-seek with her in the woodland. She and George got to hold hands and feel romantic as they gazed out over the views together, as if they were a couple again, and not merely parents on manoeuvres. Without wanting to jinx anything, Em couldn’t help wondering if they might just have cracked this holiday business at last.
Hope all okay with you, she tried texting Izzie, but there was no signal and the message kept failing to send. It was a shame Izzie hadn’t come with them, but then she was sixteen and very hard to dislodge, when digging her heels in. Em hoped she wouldn’t be too bored, all alone there today. Tomorrow she would get Izzie to suggest something she’d like to do with them all, she decided.
Truro was the next stop on their boat trip and proved delightful with its cathedral and pretty streets. They stopped for a cold drink and Em saw that at some point her message had finally been delivered and that Izzie had replied – Great, thanks! – and felt reassured. Then they were back on the boat, the sea grey beneath the still-heavy clouds, and she was congratulating herself on everything turning out nicely, George’s leg warm against hers as they bounced over the waves. ‘I hope we can make it back to the car before the storm breaks,’ he said, eyeing the flinty sky.
It turned out that there was more than one kind of storm. Because the boat was just puttering back into Falmouth harbour once more when Em’s phone bleeped, back in range, and she saw that there were three missed calls from her friend Louise, as well as a text: Ring me when you get this. V important – re Izzie.
What the hell . . . ? Louise’s daughter Ruby was friends with Izzie, and Em immediately began piecing together alarming scenarios of what might have happened while she’d been out on the boat, without a signal. She’d had that message in Truro, though, that Izzie was okay, so what could have gone wrong in the meantime? With her head in a whirl, and trying to help shepherd the children back onto the harbourside, her phone started ringing before she had the chance to return Louise’s call. Dom, it said on the screen, and Em clambered onto the dock and fumbled to press Answer. ‘Hello?’ she said.
‘What the hell is going on?’ he said
. He sounded really wound-up. Angry, even.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘Is this about Louise? I’ve had really patchy phone service all day, I’ve only just—’
‘Louise rang me because she couldn’t get hold of you,’ he said. God, yes, he was definitely angry. He was practically spitting out the words as if he was about to boil right over, so loud that both George and Jack could hear too, judging by their faces.
‘Right – something about Izzie,’ Em garbled, feeling defensive. Oh no, was he cross that he’d left Izzie on her own for the day? That was a bit rich, when he was always telling her that she didn’t give the kids enough freedom. And she was sixteen! ‘She was fine, last I heard. What did Louise say?’
‘She said – and I can hardly believe I’m saying this – that Ruby’s sister saw something on Ruby’s phone.’ He sounded as if he was about to explode. What on earth was this about? ‘Saying that Izzie . . . that she’s been naked and copping off with that man.’
‘WHAT? What are you talking about? What man?’ Em practically fell over. George shot her a worried look as he took Seren’s hand and began leading her away, shooing Jack along too.
‘Your boyfriend,’ he yelled. ‘I’ve a good mind to drive down there myself and—’
‘WHAT?’ said Em again, so shrill it was practically a shriek. She turned away, her heart thumping. Had Dom gone mad? ‘No,’ she told him. ‘No, no, no. That hasn’t happened. That has not happened.’
Too late. He had gone full volcano. ‘I trusted you to look after our child!’ he was raging. ‘She’s sixteen years old, for crying out loud! What in God’s name were you thinking? Is he some kind of weirdo or . . . ?’
People were staring at her. George was staring at her too, a frown creasing his forehead. Was that exasperation she could see in his eyes or something else? He must be getting sick of the constant soap opera of Em-and-her-kids, she thought with a lurch. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said coldly, cutting Dom off mid-rant. ‘Stop shouting at me and listen: whatever Louise has said, she’s wrong. Nothing has happened, all right? Now I’m going to talk to Izzie and find out what this is all about, then I’ll call you back, okay?’ She hung up before he could say anything else and gulped in a breath. Her brain was whirring, unable to make sense of the conversation. Izzie had said what? She couldn’t have done. It must be a misunderstanding, a joke – mustn’t it?
‘What was all that about?’ George said, even though she was pretty sure he must have heard at least some of her ex-husband’s accusations. Bloody hell. How was she supposed to explain that?
‘I . . .’ She couldn’t even look at him. This was all too crazy. George wouldn’t have done anything with Izzie. He just wouldn’t. She was a child, and he was in his forties! But even so, her mind was already throwing up accusations, digging up old conversations.
How well do you actually know this man? Jenny had asked.
I wish George wasn’t here on holiday with us, Izzie had sighed.
Had something happened? Em wondered now in sudden horror. Was that why Izzie had been so weird this week? She thought about the moment when Izzie had walked out in her bikini, so womanly, so . . . well, so sexy. George had averted his gaze from her as if he felt uncomfortable about Izzie’s near-nudity. But that didn’t mean . . . Em shut her eyes for a moment, her thoughts racing. What did it mean?
‘Let’s talk about it later,’ she said, after a long awful moment, aware that Jack was eavesdropping like crazy. No doubt supergrass Seren was listening in too. She swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on the awful worries and fears that were already spinning wildly out of control. ‘He’s got the wrong end of the stick somehow – don’t worry, we’ll sort this out.’ Her own words sounded hollow, though, and her heart was galloping so hard it was making her feel queasy.
Then the clouds above them broke and the rain started to pour.
Izzie cycled up the hill, thighs burning from the effort, as the rain hammered down. She could hear her phone ringing somewhere in her bag behind her and hoped it would be Fraser. Telling her he missed her! Telling her he couldn’t wait to see her again! They had swapped numbers and arranged to meet up that very evening. ‘I can borrow my brother’s car and pick you up tonight,’ he’d said. ‘If you like.’
She did like. She really liked. In fact she felt positively giddy at the prospect of being in the small, enclosed space of a car with him later on. None of her friends had boyfriends with cars! It felt so grown-up and exciting. Plus it totally counted as a date, right?
They’d had such a nice time that afternoon. He’d bought her a Coke and they’d sat on a big rock together, talking and making each other laugh. Funnily enough, Swanpool turned out to be the same beach where she’d nearly been run over by that woman Olivia the other day, but Izzie felt like a different girl from the angry, stressed-out person she’d been back then, seething about the bust-up with Seren. Sitting next to Fraser in her nicest top and shorts, with her hair all bouncy and still smelling of shampoo, she felt as if her heart might combust with how good this felt, how happy she was. He was seventeen and working for his uncle’s courier business over the summer; he liked the same music as her and wanted to study veterinary science at uni. Good-looking and clever and funny . . . Fraser was perfect. Everything was perfect!
‘I bet you’ve got loads of boyfriends back home, haven’t you?’ he’d asked and she’d blushed at how wrong he was.
‘No,’ she laughed, feeling awkward. Hardly. ‘How about you?’ For all she knew, he did this every week with another holidaying girl. Surely he had them queuing round the block!
‘What, have I got loads of boyfriends?’ he teased. ‘Nah.’ He grinned at her. ‘Or girlfriends, for that matter. I haven’t met the right girl.’
‘That’s a shame,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
He put his hand up to his eyes and pretended to peer out at the horizon. ‘Yeah. Hope she turns up soon,’ he sighed.
She whacked him and he held onto her arm and then they were play-fighting and laughing, until all of a sudden he was looking at her with soft eyes, and the fighting ground to a heart-bursting halt. ‘Ah, here she is,’ he said to her and she held her breath, both of them just gazing at each other for a long, charged second.
Her blood raced around her. Was he going to . . . ? Should she . . . ?
Then he leaned over and kissed her, really gently, on the mouth before she could answer any of her own questions. ‘Here she is,’ he said again, all soft and murmury.
The beach seemed to vanish as his lips met hers a second time. She closed her eyes, feeling the most delicious shivery thrill run through her. He tasted of Coke, he smelled of soap, he kissed like . . . Well, she didn’t have a lot of experience, in all honesty, but even she could judge that he kissed like a god. Her eyes felt swimmy as they eventually pulled apart, as if the world had drifted into soft-focus. As if she’d travelled through a portal into a whole new place.
They smiled at each other again. ‘Your phone’s been ringing,’ he said. ‘Did you not hear?’
‘I didn’t even notice,’ she replied honestly, then blushed because it sounded like she was spinning him a cheesy line.
‘Ah, I bet you say that to all the boys,’ he teased and she elbowed him, feeling all goosebumpy as their skin touched again.
‘Let me get a photo of us,’ she said, changing the subject and rummaging in her bag for her phone. Missed calls and a text from Ruby – RING ME! RED ALERT! it said, but she doubted it was anywhere near as important as kissing handsome Fraser and getting a selfie to prove it. Knowing Ruby, it would be some sixth-former liking one of her Instagram posts and her needing to analyse everything this might mean. ‘Smile!’
She took three photos and they studied them. ‘We look good together,’ he said. ‘Especially me.’
‘You are such a—’ She laughed, unsure what to say. In private, she agreed with him anyway – he looked so-o-o good – but it wouldn’t be very cool to admit as much.
‘I think I’ll survive,’ she told him, as the first few drops of rain pattered around them. In the next minute her phone started ringing – Mum, she read onscreen – and she sent the call to voicemail. Bye, Mum. Not now. Busy falling in love here. She stuffed the phone in her bag and picked up her bike, which she’d left leaning against the rocks. ‘See you later on then. Text me when you’re coming over, yeah?’
‘Yeah.’ They walked back up to the road together and he kissed her again, a slow lingering kiss that made her legs feel like jelly. ‘Bye, Izzie.’
‘Bye, Fraser,’ she said, her voice practically a croak.
Almost back at the cottage now, her hair was plastered to her head and her top was drenched and practically transparent, but she felt as if she was glowing, radiant with happiness. Her lips still tingled where Fraser had kissed her, she felt swoony and liquid and weak. Oh my God. She had kissed a boy. She liked this boy! And he was going to pick her up later on – he could drive! – and they were going out together and she was almost certainly going to kiss him again and . . .
Just as she was approaching the driveway to the cottage, a car beeped and flashed its lights at her as it overtook, snapping her out of her dreamy thoughts. Was that George’s car? Her mum’s face whizzed past, pale and anxious, and Izzie stared after it with a frown, remembering the missed call. She had been so caught up in Fraser and the headiness of their encounter that the rest of the family had seemed remote the whole time. What had her mum been calling about? she wondered now.
Cycling quickly back to the house, she got off her bike and fumbled for the key in her pocket just as Mum, Jack, George and Seren walked round from the car park, hurrying through the rain. ‘Hi,’ she said, opening the front door and lifting her bike in. ‘How was the boat trip?’