One Perfect Summer

by Paige Toon

  I’ve tied my hair into a loose ponytail as it’s quite hot today, and I’m wearing cream shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. I may like indie and Emo boys, but I wouldn’t choose their style of dress for myself.

  ‘Did you tell your parents you were seeing me today?’ I dare to ask.

  ‘Did I bollocks.’

  ‘What do they think you’re doing?’

  ‘Who knows? They don’t give a toss what I do, as long as Dyson’s out of the way.’

  The train chuffs out of the station with a whistle and a hiss. Joe casually puts his foot up on my seat. ‘So what are you doing, going on holiday with your parents at your age?’

  I tell him about Lizzy and his amusement dies.

  ‘That sucks.’

  I called Lizzy last night. It was a sombre conversation. Her mum is having the operation to remove the lump in her breast this afternoon, so she’s nervous. I’ll call her later to find out how the op went.

  ‘Do you have many friends around here?’ I ask Joe.

  ‘Nah. We moved only a couple of months ago and I don’t go to school anymore, so . . .’ His voice trails off. ‘It’s not really worth making friends if I’m going to be leaving.’

  ‘That’s right, you’re off to London,’ I say with a teasing smile. ‘What are you going to do there?’

  He shrugs. ‘I don’t know yet. Get a job. See what comes up, where life takes me . . .’

  ‘That’s very carefree of you. I couldn’t stand that. I’m a planner.’

  ‘I can tell.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ I feel slightly affronted.

  He smiles playfully. ‘Just can.’

  ‘Well, maybe I’ll surprise you one of these days.’

  ‘Maybe you will.’ He holds my gaze and my stomach goes all jittery. The feeling intensifies tenfold as the seconds tick by and neither of us looks away, then Dyson shifts position at our feet, distracting us both. I really need to get a grip.

  We pass through Herston Halt station and Harman’s Cross with its pretty flowers planted on the banks, and then it’s green fields galore until we reach Corfe Castle.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ Joe asks me as we wander up the street towards the town’s small centre. ‘Are you hungry?’

  My stomach rumbles its own reply, but he doesn’t hear, thankfully. ‘I am a bit. Where shall we go?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s my first time here too, remember.’

  ‘That’s right. I can’t believe you haven’t brought other girls before now.’

  He cracks up laughing. ‘I haven’t met any other girls!’

  ‘Sure you haven’t. You met me pretty quickly.’

  ‘Your mum made that introduction. And then Dyson followed up on it. I haven’t lived here long enough to know anyone else.’

  ‘What about girls on holiday?’ I don’t know where my confidence is coming from to ask him these questions, but talking to him is amazingly easy.

  ‘Summer holidays have only just started.’

  I instantly feel crushed.

  ‘I don’t mean . . .’ He quickly corrects himself. ‘I mean no one my age has been around, girls or guys. Anyway, now you’re here you can keep me company.’ Pause. ‘If you want to.’

  He blushes! He actually blushes!

  ‘Of course I do,’ I say, happily. So it’s not just me. ‘Oh, look! There’s the castle.’

  We continue in the direction of the ruined castle sitting on top of a steep hill. Ivy clings to its crumbling walls, and people wander along the grassy slopes beside it.

  ‘What about that café for lunch?’ I point up ahead.

  We enter the café and go through to the other side, into the garden. Corfe Castle towers right there above us and it’s quite something to be able to sit at a table with this view and not even have to pay an entry fee to walk through the nearby gates.

  Joe is wearing a faded yellow Kingmaker T-shirt today and black jeans. I nod at his top.

  ‘I love Kingmaker.’

  ‘What’s your favourite song?’

  ‘“Really Scrape the Sky” is brilliant, but my favourite has got to be “You and I Will Never See Things Eye to Eye”.’

  He smiles. ‘Me too. I always imagine that playing at the beginning of a film.’

  ‘Yeah! That would be so cool. The way the bass kicks in just before the vocals . . .’

  ‘Exactly.’

  I laugh. ‘I’ll think of you if I ever see a film that has that on its soundtrack.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll put a Kingmaker question in next week’s quiz,’ he jokes.

  ‘Oh, God, don’t.’ I bury my head in my hands. ‘Last night was mortifying.’ I peek through my fingers at him, but he’s not smiling.

  ‘I’m sorry. My parents hate me.’

  ‘That’s a crazy thing to say.’

  He shakes his head, his expression bitter, then stares down at his hands.

  ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ I ask tentatively.

  He glances at me before looking away, but he doesn’t answer.

  ‘Did you hear—’

  ‘Yeah,’ he cuts me off. He sighs. ‘I have a brother, an older brother.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Jail.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yep. I probably should have told you this before the train left to go back to Swanage.’

  ‘Why?’ I’m confused.

  ‘In case you wanted to get back on it.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I brush him off. ‘Why’s he in jail?’

  ‘Because he’s a dickhead.’

  ‘I mean, what did he do?’

  ‘I know that’s what you meant. Sorry. He’s been in and out of detention centres ever since I can remember – joy riding, drug dealing, you name it. The last thing that landed him in jail was armed robbery.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘My family is great!’ he says sarcastically. ‘And the best thing about all of this? Mum and Dad still think the sun shines out of Ryan’s arse.’

  Ryan, I’m assuming, is his brother.

  ‘Do you have any siblings?’ he asks me.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re lucky.’

  ‘I never thought that when I was growing up. I was lonely.’

  ‘Better to be lonely than black and blue.’

  ‘He beats you up?’ I exclaim, and from the look on his face I know instantly that he didn’t mean to reveal this information.

  ‘Here comes our food,’ he says abruptly. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore – and who could blame him?

  ‘That was such a fun day,’ I say later in the car as I pull over near the pub.

  He smiles across at me. ‘It was, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Are you working tonight?’

  ‘Afraid so. What are you up to tomorrow?’

  I’m so relieved he asked me that question first. ‘Nothing. What about you?’

  ‘I’m coming your way if you want to join us for a walk?’

  ‘Us’ meaning him and Dyson.

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll see you at around ten thirty.’

  ‘Great.’

  Awkward pause. We both jump as Dyson starts to bark furiously at a dog walking past with its owner.

  ‘I’d better put him out at the back. I’m late for work.’

  ‘Will your parents kill you?’

  He cocks his head to one side. ‘Let’s hope not.’ He climbs out of the car. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  I let out a deep breath and some of the tension that’s been inside me all day slowly evaporates. Good tension, not bad tension, but tension nonetheless. And then I check my watch as a feeling of melancholy settles over me. It’s just after six o’clock. That’s one, two, three . . . I silently count the hours in my head until I come to ten thirty in the morning. Sixteen and a half hours until I see him again. How am I going to pass the time?

  If Lizzy could see me now she’d think I’d lost my head. Lizzy! I ne
ed to call her. Damn – I said I’d call her at five. I make a plan to ring as soon as I get back to the cottage.

  ‘She’s trying to be brave, but she’s in a lot of pain.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur.

  I’m on the phone to Lizzy. She’s at the hospital.

  ‘How’s your sister?’ I ask. Lizzy has just the one: Tessa. She’s younger than us by three years.

  ‘I don’t know. She doesn’t talk about it, and she barely comes out of her room when we’re at home.’

  ‘She must be worried.’

  ‘We all are.’

  ‘I wish I could give you a big hug,’ I say sadly.

  ‘I wish you could too,’ she replies and I know she has tears in her eyes. She’s not the only one.

  ‘How’s Dorset?’ she asks.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I reply.

  My heart aches to tell her about Joe, but I don’t feel that I can.

  ‘How is she?’ Mum asks when I return downstairs. I fill her in. ‘Poor thing,’ she empathises. ‘Did you have a good day?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I nod, unable to keep the corners of my lips from turning upwards.

  ‘You like him, don’t you?’

  ‘Might do,’ I reply, looking down.

  ‘Shame about his mother,’ she comments.

  ‘Mmm. I wasn’t too keen on her, either. Neither is Joe, for that matter.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ Mum says, ‘at least we’re only here for six weeks.’

  My heart plummets. Six weeks felt like an age on the car journey down here – now it’s nowhere near long enough. ‘What do you mean, “at least”?’ I ask her.

  ‘Well, it’s not like you’re going to fall for him, is it? He’s hardly going to be a permanent part of your life. Imagine dealing with his mother! And his father . . . From the look on his face when he gave me my change it’s like he thought he’d burst an artery just by cracking a smile . . .’

  But I’m not really listening to her rant, because I’m still thinking about the falling-for part. It doesn’t seem like such a slim possibility to me.

  By 10.15 the next morning, I’m sitting out on the bench trying to read Titus Andronicus. Mum was a bit disturbed when she discovered I was seeing Joe again so soon, so I promised to take a couple of books with me on our walk. I may stay at the cliffs and do some reading if Joe has to get back to the pub.

  Dyson appears at the gate before Joe does, but I force myself to calmly pack my book into my bag before going to meet him.

  ‘Thought I’d do some reading at the cliffs,’ I explain, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

  ‘What are you going to be studying?’ he asks as we set off down the track towards Dancing Ledge.

  ‘English Lit. It’ll probably be dead boring if Shakespeare is anything to go by.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll have a laugh no matter what.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Are you excited?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes, I am, kind of. And a bit nervous. I haven’t spent much time away from home before.’

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ he asks.

  ‘He’s in London. He’s coming down tomorrow night for the weekend.’

  ‘Have you got lots of family things planned?’

  I shrug. ‘No, not really. You?’ I try to sound casual, but inside I’m desperately hoping we can see each other.

  ‘I have to work. Weekends are really busy at the pub.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Much as I want to, I can’t mask my disappointment.

  ‘You should stop by.’

  ‘I’m not sure that would go down too well with your parents.’

  ‘Nothing goes down well with my parents. You just have to learn to ignore them like I do.’ That’s bravado talking. It’s obvious their behaviour upsets him.

  We leave the track and enter the meadow, and soon we’re face to face with that spectacular view.

  Today the sea is sparkling like billions of diamonds. Butterflies flit around the wildflowers and a few boats with white sails glide through the water. I can hear the cry of gulls from the cliffs below.

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’ I ask, turning to Joe. ‘I brought some snacks.’

  ‘Good one,’ he says, so I open up my bag and pull out a picnic blanket. ‘A rug too? So organised,’ he teases.

  ‘That’s me,’ I reply.

  ‘That’s right,’ he says as he helps me lay out the rug, ‘you’re a planner.’

  ‘Bugger off,’ I joke.

  ‘Hey, nothing wrong with that.’

  He collapses down on the rug while I get out some crisps and drinks. I also brought a little plastic bowl for Dyson and I pour some water from a bottle into it.

  Joe laughs. ‘Okay, now you’re making me look bad.’

  ‘Do you have to work today?’ I ask.

  ‘Not till this afternoon. That’s one good thing about the pub – it doesn’t do lunch, so I’m not drafted in to work in the kitchen like I have been in the past.’

  ‘Does that mean you can cook?’

  ‘If shaking frozen scampi and chips into a sizzling pan of oil can be called cooking, then yes, I can cook. Otherwise, no.’

  He pulls over my bag and takes out a book. ‘So what are you supposed to be reading?’

  ‘Shakespeare and the Greek Tragedies.’

  He flicks through Titus. ‘What the hell? It looks like it’s written in a foreign language!’

  I laugh.

  ‘I can’t understand a bloody word.’

  ‘Neither can I, half the time.’

  He throws the book back down.

  ‘Did you really never want to go to university?’ I ask.

  He thinks for a moment. ‘I guess I didn’t see it as an option. My parents are not academically minded,’ he says with a raised eyebrow. ‘So they didn’t exactly encourage me, and with all the shit going on with my brother . . . Well, let’s just say school wasn’t my number one priority.’

  ‘When is your brother getting out of jail?’ I ask quietly.

  His face hardens. ‘He’s coming up for parole soon. I hope I’ll be out of here before that happens.’

  ‘Will he come back to live with your parents?’

  ‘Yep.’ His reply is curt. ‘I’ll take Dyson down the hill to give you some peace.’

  ‘You don’t have to,’ I say quickly. Studying is far from my mind at the moment – I’d rather spend time with Joe. But he and Dyson are already on their feet.

  ‘See you in a bit,’ he says.

  ‘Okay. Thanks,’ I reply.

  I watch him as he sets off down the steep grassy path. When he is finally out of sight I pick up a book. I sigh. I really can’t be bothered to read Shakespeare right now, but I suppose I should. I turn around and lie on my stomach, facing up the hill. There’s something deliriously comfortable about it. A seagull flies over my head, high above the ocean, but low against the land. It’s so close I can hear its wings flapping. I try to read. The tall grass around me sways in the breeze. It’s so peaceful and quiet. My whole body feels relaxed. The words are in front of my eyes, but they’re not going in. I close my eyes for a moment and feel the warm sun on my back.

  The next thing I know, Dyson is licking my face.

  ‘Argh!’

  ‘DYSON!’ Joe shouts.

  I push the dog away, but I’m in hysterics. Joe is halfway up the steep incline, trying to run.

  ‘Sorry!’ He’s panting when he reaches me. He stretches out the bottom of his T-shirt and uses it to wipe Dyson’s slobber from my cheeks. I can’t stop laughing. ‘Gross dog strikes again,’ he says.

  He checks my face with his fingertips to make sure I’m free of slobber. His hands seem to linger. My giggles dissolve and I steadily meet his eyes as butterflies swarm into my stomach.

  ‘God, I fancy you,’ he says suddenly, and I know in that moment that he’s going to kiss me. My heart starts pounding ten to the dozen. I tilt my face up towards him and his lips touch mine, gently at first, then deep
ening to become more passionate. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s as if fireworks are going off inside my head. My whole body tingles like nothing before.

  He pulls away, but stays close. And then an enormous slobbery dog tongue comes out of nowhere to lick my cheek.

  ‘Argh!’ I scream again.

  ‘Dyson, get off!’ Joe shouts, shoving him away. We look at each other and crack up laughing. ‘Next time I kiss you, I’ll make sure he’s not around.’

  ‘I don’t want to wait that long,’ I say, drawing him near. He’s still smiling when his lips touch mine.

  We wander, hand in hand, back to the cottage. The jittery feeling doesn’t leave me and it’s blissful. We take our time, but we’re home far too quickly. My mum’s car isn’t in the driveway.

  ‘Do you want to come in for some lunch?’ I ask hopefully.

  ‘Um . . .’ He checks his watch.

  ‘My mum is out,’ I add.

  ‘Yeah, go on, then.’

  I beam from ear to ear as I lead him to the front door.

  ‘Where do you think she’s gone?’ he asks, following me inside but leaving Dyson on the driveway. We’ve closed the gate to make sure he can’t escape.

  ‘Probably sitting on a beach somewhere, sketching.’

  ‘Have you got any of her work, here?’

  ‘In the conservatory. I’ll show you in a bit. Shall I make some sandwiches?’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Ham and cheese? Peanut butter? What do you fancy?’

  ‘You,’ he says with a smile, pulling me in for another kiss. He presses me up against the counter and I wrap my arms around his neck. The kiss is over far too quickly. ‘But I’ve already told you that,’ he adds. ‘Ham and cheese. Let me help you.’

  We work side by side and, before taking our food out to the garden we pause in the conservatory to have a quick look at Mum’s paintings.

  ‘I don’t know anything about art, but I like them,’ Joe says.

  ‘That’s all you need to know, in my opinion. That’s what it’s about, right? What you like and what you don’t like?’

  ‘I guess so. Smartarse.’

  ‘I prefer Brainiac.’

  He chuckles and follows me outside to the sunny garden. We sit on the soft, spongy grass and Joe tucks into his sandwich. I take a bite of mine, but I’m not very hungry. The winged caterpillars are taking up all the room in my stomach.