Lizzy got out of the car and walked over to them.
‘Oh,’ said Tony. ‘Now I’m really worried.’ His tone was mocking.
Lizzy looked at him. And frowned. Then the light of recognition came into her eyes.
‘Oh. It’s you.’ She gave a laugh. ‘You don’t change, do you?’
Tony looked wary. ‘What?’
‘Tony Brice.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘Long time no see.’
‘I’m sorry – do I know you?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.’
Tony looked at Lizzy with a twisted smile, as if to say there was hardly anything memorable about her. ‘Sorry, love. No. Unless … do you work at the Co-op?’
Lizzy drew herself up and fixed him with a knowing look.
‘You might remember my friend. Caroline.’
He still shook his head, but he wasn’t looking so confident now.
‘Well, I’ve obviously got a better memory than you have,’ said Lizzy.
‘I really don’t know what you’re on about.’ His voice was uncertain.
‘Oh, I think you probably do,’ she said. ‘The Ship Aground? Summer of 1987? You took my mate home with you. I wanted her to go to the police. But she wouldn’t. For some reason she thought it was all her fault.’ Then Lizzy turned to Leanne. ‘Come on – let’s get you both in the car.’
To Harley’s amazement, Tony stood to one side as they all walked to Lizzy’s car and got in. Leanne strapped River in and did up his belt. She sat back, closing her eyes, shaken. They watched as Tony strode off across the car park, his fists clenched.
Lizzy looked at Leanne in the rear-view mirror. ‘You OK? Shall we go?’
Leanne nodded.
Lizzy slammed the car into reverse, backed it up at high speed and did a really impressive three-point turn, tyres squealing, as Tony looked on in amazement.
‘Woo hoo!’ whooped Harley. ‘Check you out!’
‘The twins gave me an Advanced Driving course,’ grinned Lizzy, ‘for my fortieth birthday,’ and she changed the car into first and gunned it out of the car park, Tony flattening himself against the pub wall as they drove past.
Tony Brice, Lizzy thought. A leopard never changes its spots.
41
1987
‘You know the rules, girls. I’m trusting you not to break them. I’ll be back at the weekend. Phone me at six o’clock every evening.’
Caroline’s mother was putting the last of her bits and pieces into her bag. The two girls tried to look solemn and responsible, as if they weren’t counting the seconds to her departure. They had done it. They had actually managed to convince Mrs Keane that they were grown up enough to be left alone at the beach hut for a few days. They were seventeen, nearly eighteen. They’d finished their A levels. They were almost officially adults.
Caroline’s younger brother was furious at not being allowed to stay too. There had been one awful moment when Mrs Keane had thought it might be a good idea. But common sense, thank goodness, had prevailed, and Andrew was going back with her. She and Mr Keane and Andrew would be driving back to Everdene again on Friday evening.
Today was Tuesday.
They had three days on their own. Three days of sun-drenched unsupervised bliss at the beach hut. It was the beginning of August and temperatures were soaring. Everdene was filling up with visitors, and the Ship Aground was filled with bronzed and intoxicated young people pumping money into the video jukebox.
Mrs Keane left a crisp twenty-pound note on the Formica-topped table. ‘I shall expect change,’ she told them. ‘Don’t go mad.’
‘We won’t,’ they promised, mentally calculating just how many cans of Red Stripe they could buy. They could live on Frosties and Pot Noodles and chips. Food was of no great interest to them. Alcohol and lip gloss and a packet of Marlboro were all they needed.
As soon as Mrs K had disappeared from sight at the end of the row of huts, Caroline and Lizzy jumped up and down, hugging each other. Lizzy pressed ‘play’ on the cassette player plugged in to the corner of the living area. Belinda Carlisle belted out.
To them, heaven really was a place on earth.
The two girls were completely different. Lizzy was small, but with the advantage of the long wild curly hair that most girls were having to pay big money for. Caroline was taller, with a netball captain’s physique. She had a packet of Sun-In ready for her transformation from mousy to Madonna-blonde.
By mid-afternoon, when the sun was still high in the sky, they were outside on the veranda surrounded by everything they needed, stretched out in bikinis. They had managed to get the cassette player as far as the door, its lead stretched across the beach-hut floor. Lizzy was reading a magazine; Caroline was painting her toenails.
In front of them, the sea shimmered, Rimmel-blue, but they had no intention of going swimming after all the effort they had made. They sipped at their cans of lukewarm lager. It was a waiting game. They were languid with heat and freedom and anticipation. Their eyes honed in on every person that passed the hut. No one escaped unjudged. As the sun started to go down, they were a little peeved that a bevy of Brat Pack lookalikes hadn’t paraded past, clamouring for their attention.
‘We’ll go to the Ship Aground,’ said Caroline, inspecting her newly blonde tresses in the mirror, slightly alarmed by the brightness but telling herself it would tone down by the time her mother got back.
‘We need change for the video jukebox,’ said Lizzy, rooting through her purse, ever the organised one.
By seven, they were in stone-washed denim skirts and tank tops – yellow for Lizzy; pink for Caroline – eyes rimmed in bright blue eyeliner, lips slick with pale pink gloss. They walked along the beach in a cloud of cigarette smoke and Giorgio Beverly Hills that Caroline’s mum had foolishly left behind in the bathroom.
All eyes were on them when they entered the pub. Lizzy was under no illusions that it was her igniting anyone’s interest. Caroline seemed to radiate on a higher frequency than usual, thanks to her blondeness, the freckles on her cheeks where the sun had kissed her and the lack of parental authority in any proximity. Two Tequila Sunrises increased her confidence even more. She was fizzing, laughing, talking, dancing. Lizzy didn’t mind being in her shadow. She busied herself fetching their drinks, buying more cigarettes from the machine, choosing the next song to boom out, the bass line tuning in to everyone’s heartbeat, steady, relentless, heavy with promise.
‘Hungry Like the Wolf’ was playing as Tony Brice walked in. The girls had seen him before at the pub: he was from Tawcombe, a rich family who owned half the town. He loped amongst the crowd, lean, predatory, eyes flickering over limbs and faces, a vulpine smile on his lips. Lizzy saw him before Caroline and shivered with a premonition. She wasn’t a fanciful girl given to any sixth sense: it was common sense that told her what was coming.
Local bad boy meets out-of-town good girl. A timeless tale. Only Lizzy suspected this was going to be no sugary John Travolta/Olivia Newton-John unravelling. She wondered about the chances of getting Caroline out of the pub before the inevitable happened.
Zero.
She had to admit Tony Brice was dazzling, his hair even blonder than Caroline’s, his caramel skin stretched taut over his muscular limbs. He wore a black jacket with the sleeves pushed up over a white mesh singlet and skin-tight jeans. He walked straight up to Caroline and offered to buy her a drink.
The locals looked at each other, knowingly, and Lizzy wondered what it was they knew. The girls from Everdene smiled at him, hooked their arms round his neck and kissed his cheek, the lads raised their glasses, but they all melted away from him. Caroline, in comparison, was agog, halfway down yet another lurid blue cocktail, her eyes rolling around like the balls on the billiard table, totally in Tony’s thrall, unable to see beyond his beauty.
Lizzy approached the two of th
em, wondering how she was going to handle this.
‘We should probably be heading back,’ she said brightly. ‘We promised your mum we wouldn’t be late.’
Caroline swayed as she laughed, poking at her drink with her straw. ‘Mum’s a million miles away.’
‘No. She’s coming back tonight, remember?’ Lizzy stared at her, willing her to get the message.
‘Lizzy. She only left today. How pissed are you?’ She leaned against Tony and cackled. Tony put his arm round her and smiled. Lizzy’s heart sank as Caroline rested her head on his shoulder. ‘You go back if you want,’ said Caroline kindly. ‘You don’t have to wait for me.’
‘I’m going to the loo before I leave,’ she said. ‘Wanna come?’
Caroline was always needing the loo, so she hoped she would get the hint. But Caroline wasn’t letting Tony out of her clutches. ‘I’m fine.’ The insistent bass line of INXS tumbled out of the jukebox. ‘Oh my God, I love this!’
She thrust her glass at Lizzy and grabbed Tony’s hands, beginning to dance with him. Lizzy shut her eyes in despair. She’d never seen Caroline this drunk. It was obvious she wasn’t going to co-operate. She watched in horror as Caroline’s movements became more and more suggestive. Everyone was laughing. It was made worse by the fact that Tony was a good mover. He was lithe and slinky next to her, but his smile said it all.
‘You should rescue her before it’s too late,’ someone whispered in Lizzy’s ear.
From what? she thought. After all, maybe Caroline should have a bit of fun? It might boost her up a bit. She’d convinced herself she’d flunked her A levels and was dreading results day. Maybe a night with Tony Brice would give her something else to think about.
Lizzy bit her lip. It was agony, sitting in the pub like a spare part, playing gooseberry, but she wasn’t going to leave her mate. She sidled up to a group of youngsters, edging next to a girl with a smiley face who looked friendly enough.
‘Can I stand with you for a bit?’ she asked. ‘I want to keep an eye on my friend.’
Caroline and Tony were kissing now. They’d moved away from the centre of the room. Her back was up against a pillar.
‘Good luck,’ said the girl. ‘Tony’s a right one. He’s only in Everdene because he’s been through all of Tawcombe.’
Oh God. Lizzy was powerless. She knew she couldn’t drag Caroline out by the scruff of her neck. She’d just have to hang on. Hopefully she would get so drunk she’d pass out. Maybe she should give her another Blue Lagoon with an extra vodka in it to hasten the process?
Stop worrying, she told herself. Caroline’s just letting her newly blonde hair down. She doesn’t need you policing her.
Lizzy danced for a bit with her adopted friend, who introduced herself as Suzette, pumped some more money into the jukebox, then when she couldn’t bear it any longer nipped to the loo.
When she came out, Caroline and Tony were nowhere to be seen.
It was midnight before she got back to the hut. She’d waited until everyone had been thrown out of the pub, then for the gaggles of chattering youngsters to fade away, hoping against hope that Caroline would reappear. She had no idea where she had gone or how she could get in touch with her. She felt slightly sick from too many cocktails and too much sun that afternoon.
In the end she went back to the hut, digging in the sand for the key tin, and let herself in. She slopped onto the sofa, pulling the scratchy old tartan rug over her, determined to wait up.
She must have dropped off because she was startled awake by someone trying to get in. She jumped up and opened the door. Caroline fell on her neck, sobbing. She looked terrible. Her make-up was streaked down her face and her hair was wild. She had lost her shoes and her feet were bleeding.
‘Oh my God,’ said Lizzy. ‘What happened?’
Caroline stumbled in and fell onto the sofa. Lizzy came to sit next to her, putting her arm round her shoulders.
‘I went back to Tawcombe with him. There was a whole bunch of us. He was kissing me all the way there in the back of the car.’
‘Who drove?’
‘I don’t know. One of his mates. We went to his house – somewhere down by the harbour. He took me up to his room. He wanted me to …’ She couldn’t say the words. ‘I thought I wanted to. When we were in the pub I thought, he would be the perfect person. To do it with. For the first time …’ Caroline was overcome with sobs.
‘It’s OK,’ said Lizzy, stroking her back. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘When it came down to it, I just didn’t want to. He wasn’t very nice. He was really rough. I told him I didn’t want to and he kept saying I did, that I was being a …’ She could hardly get the words out. ‘A prick tease. He said everyone in the pub could see I was desperate.’ She paused, her face crumpled up with the memory. ‘I had to fight him off. I was screaming at him and kicking him. He said I was crazy. He pulled me down the stairs and threw me out of the door.’ She slumped onto Lizzy, her arms round her neck. ‘I’ve been so stupid.’
‘You have not,’ said Lizzy staunchly, smoothing Caroline’s hair back from her face. ‘This wasn’t your fault, Caroline. You made a bit of a mistake, that’s all. He was a bully. How did you get back?’
‘I had to walk back. My stupid shoes gave me blisters.’
Her feet were bleeding. It had taken her nearly two hours to walk back from Tawcombe. She was freezing and shivering and still drunk. Lizzy wrapped her in a blanket, made her a cup of cocoa and then tucked her into bed. She didn’t say anything to Caroline, but she felt a little relieved by the outcome of the story. To begin with she had feared much worse. Caroline’s ordeal had been awful, of course it had. But thank goodness Tony hadn’t forced her into anything. Lizzy’s fists clenched as she thought of his arrogant, self-satisfied face. His conviction that he was the best-looking bloke in the room. Well, being good-looking didn’t count for anything if you behaved like that.
The next day Caroline didn’t wake until four o’clock in the afternoon. Lizzy didn’t mind. She spent the day lying on a blanket on the sand reading Judith Krantz, escaping to another world entirely, a glamorous world which nevertheless had its own set of problems. Billy Ikehorn’s complicated love life absorbed her completely, in between rehydrating with glasses of lemon squash and eating three packets of Skips, letting the salty sweet crackers melt on her tongue.
When Caroline finally dragged herself out of bed, pale and red-eyed, Lizzy made her spaghetti hoops on toast. Caroline didn’t really want to talk about what had happened the night before. She was very subdued. Twice a tear trickled onto her plate.
‘Come on,’ said Lizzy at six o’clock. ‘Let’s go and have a drink.’
‘There is absolutely no way I’m going anywhere near that place ever again.’ Caroline looked horrified at the prospect.
‘Why not?’ said Lizzy.
‘Everyone will laugh at me.’
‘No they won’t.’
‘Yes they will. They were all watching. They saw me dancing with him. And snogging him.’ Caroline wailed in despair at the memory. ‘And have you seen my hair? It looks terrible. It’s gone sort of orange.’
This was true. Yesterday it had looked glamorous. Today it looked brassy. Lizzy looked at her friend: gone was the confident creature of the night before. In her place was a wreck. But wrecks could be restored to their former glory, inside and out.
‘You’ve got to get back on the horse,’ she said. ‘Come on. Go and have a shower, wash your hair again, put on some make-up. We’ve only got two nights left before your parents come back down. We are not going to let Tony Brice ruin our fun.’
‘What if he’s there?’
‘Then he’ll wish he wasn’t,’ said Lizzy, her voice grim.
Caroline chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘I’m sorry I left you,’ she said. ‘Last night, I mean. I should’ve asked if you wa
nted to come too. Or at least asked if you minded. I’m a horrible friend.’
‘Just don’t do it again, ok? I was really worried.’
‘Oh God, was I really drunk? I must’ve been, because I can’t face anything to drink now.’
‘You must have had about six cocktails. I stopped counting.’
Caroline mimed being sick. ‘I’m pretty sure I was sick outside his house.’
‘I hope he stepped in it,’ said Lizzy, then laughed. ‘Was it blue?’
Caroline joined in laughing. ‘Oh God. Blue sick. All over the pavement. What would my mother say?’
Lizzy put on a posh, disapproving voice. ‘Oh darling, really.’
They went back to the pub. Lizzy found the people she’d met the night before, including Suzette who’d been so kind to her. They chatted and drank a couple of bottles of beer and agreed to meet on the beach the next day to play cricket.
Suzette gave Caroline a hug. ‘We’ve all fallen for it,’ she told her. ‘Tony Brice is a rite of passage in Everdene. He might look like a god and think he’s a god but he’s a total creep. He only comes over here because no one in Tawcombe will put up with his behaviour. You’ll get over it.’
Caroline did get over it. By the time her parents returned she was her old self again and she and Lizzy spent the remaining two weeks having the time of their life, making new friends, swimming, dancing, laughing – the holiday was just as it should be.
Caroline forgot all about Tony Brice. But Lizzy didn’t. She never forgot anybody who had done something to hurt people she loved. Even thirty years on.
42
Jack thought his heart was going to burst as Nat opened his stocking. The little boy was quite literally shaking with excitement as he opened the parcels. He was touched by how carefully he unwrapped everything, examining it thoughtfully, smiling up at his dad in appreciation.
‘How does he know?’ he kept asking. ‘How does Santa know that’s what I wanted? And he’s even brought a ball for Clouseau!’
Christmas at the Beach Hut Page 25
