One Perfect Summer

by Paige Toon

  I shiver and stand up, but return to tape a note to the bench telling Joe to come inside.

  I wait in the kitchen. When I hear the gate latch I run to the door.

  ‘Joe?’ I whisper into the darkness.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, coming around the corner.

  ‘Mum’s asleep,’ I tell him. ‘She said to come inside.’ He looks wary. ‘Leave Dyson on the driveway,’ I suggest.

  I take his cold hand and lead him into the living room, acutely aware that my mum’s bedroom is directly overhead.

  We sit on the sofa together and I cuddle in close. He looks shattered.

  ‘You’re so tired.’ I reach up and stroke his face, compassion washing over me. ‘Lie next to me.’

  I shift to the edge of the sofa and he slides down, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to keep me from falling off. He turns his body in towards mine and holds me close. I shut my eyes. It’s blissful in his arms.

  ‘I wish we had this place to ourselves,’ I whisper after a while, the slow steady sound of his breathing making me feel dozy. He doesn’t reply. ‘Maybe we should run off together.’

  Again, no answer. I pull away and look up at him. He’s fast asleep. He looks so peaceful. I push his hair away from his face. His eyelashes are long and dark, and there are the beginnings of stubble on his jaw. His skin is perfectly smooth and tanned. I study the silver ring through his brow. I gently kiss his lips. He’s out cold. I smile at him as love floods me. And then the ache returns. I know it’s a dull and distant replica of what’s to come.

  I stay with Joe on the sofa that night until almost four o’clock in the morning, when he jolts awake. I put my hand on his chest to calm him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I whisper. ‘You fell asleep.’

  He sits up abruptly and I do the same. My eyes are stinging painfully. I’ve dozed in and out of sleep for the last three hours, but haven’t been able to nod off properly.

  ‘I’d better get back,’ he mumbles groggily.

  ‘Stay until the morning,’ I plead.

  He looks around at the dark living room. ‘Where’s Dyson?’

  ‘I brought him into the kitchen.’

  He nods and goes to stand up. I pull him back onto the sofa. ‘Stay until the morning,’ I persist.

  He shakes his head and his eyes dart up at the ceiling.

  ‘Mum won’t mind,’ I assure him.

  ‘No. I’d better get back.’

  I sigh heavily as he stands up. I follow him into the kitchen, where an unusually tired Dyson slowly rises to his feet.

  ‘I’ll see you later?’ he says at the door.

  ‘Are you working all day?’

  ‘Only the evening.’

  ‘So come at lunchtime. Maybe we can take a picnic to the ledge.’

  He nods and bends down to kiss me, then opens the door and ushers Dyson out.

  ‘I love you,’ I call quietly after him.

  ‘I love you more.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  He smiles back at me, some of the worry gone from his face. I stand in the doorway for a moment before going upstairs to bed.

  The cold, windy weather holds through to the next day. Mum is working in the conservatory when I wake up and the smell of her oils permeates the house.

  ‘I’m going for a picnic with Joe,’ I tell her after finding myself sleeping in until almost eleven o’clock.

  ‘A picnic!’ she exclaims. ‘In this weather? Why don’t you just stay here?’ I hesitate. ‘Am I cramping your style?’ she asks with a raised eyebrow.

  ‘Your paints stink,’ I joke, walking through to the kitchen to prepare some sandwiches.

  Joe comes inside to say hello before we set off. My mum wants the full low-down on his brother. Joe is surprisingly perky.

  ‘It’s been alright, actually,’ he says.

  ‘Are they talking to you now?’ I ask.

  ‘No,’ he concedes, laughing a little. ‘But it’s better than the alternative.’

  ‘We’d better get going,’ I say. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘You should have had breakfast,’ Mum says wryly.

  ‘I slept in,’ I tell Joe.

  ‘I didn’t get back to sleep,’ he replies.

  ‘Joe and I fell asleep on the sofa last night,’ I admit to Mum.

  Both eyebrows go up. ‘Oh, really?’ she says.

  Joe shifts awkwardly at my side. ‘Let’s go!’ I say merrily, hoping to put an end to his embarrassment. Although why he is embarrassed is beyond me. It’s not like we did anything.

  ‘Did you have to tell her that?’ he mutters under his breath when we’re out of the door.

  ‘Why not?’ I reply. ‘We’re both eighteen, what’s the big deal?’

  He shrugs. I put my arm around his waist and smile up at him, but he stares ahead at the path. I release my grip, a little put out. If he notices, he doesn’t comment on it.

  We pass a couple of dog walkers on the way, but apart from them the cliffs are practically deserted.

  ‘Let’s walk down to the ledge,’ Joe suggests.

  The grass is slippery underfoot, but his hand holds me steady. There are steps cut out of the rock at the bottom of the hill.

  ‘Let’s keep going,’ I say. We carefully navigate the steps and come to a chalky slope leading to the cliff. The cliff is only about ten metres high down here, and below is a flat area of rock just above sea level – the actual Dancing Ledge. My dad was reading aloud about this place only yesterday, and he told Mum, Lizzy and me that the rock here was blasted away by local quarrymen and used to construct Ramsgate harbour in east Kent. It’s called Dancing Ledge because the area of stone cut out of the cliffs is the same size as a ballroom dance floor. And within that ‘dance floor’ is a man-made swimming pool, created for the use of local schools about a hundred years ago.

  ‘We’ll have to come back when it’s sunny,’ I say, looking at the clear pool of water, grey today, but greeny-blue on a sunny day I imagine. ‘Could we climb down?’ I ask him.

  He glances at Dyson.

  ‘Not to worry,’ I say, remembering his fear about Dyson running off.

  But he delves into his coat pocket and pulls out a leash. ‘He’ll be fine.’

  ‘That was well thought out,’ I say, impressed.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ he says, leading Dyson back up to the fence. The dog barks with annoyance at being tied up, but Joe pulls a plastic bag out of his backpack and unwraps it to produce a very large bone. I can practically see Dyson salivating from here. He flops onto the grass and starts to gnaw. Joe flashes me an amused look as he jogs back down the steps.

  ‘I thought you weren’t a planner,’ I tease as he gets closer. He shrugs without looking at me and nods at the cliff edge. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Let’s do it.’

  Joe goes first and promises, with a grin, to catch me if I fall. I jump the last metre and land safely on the rock. It’s completely deserted down here. No one else wants to brave the weather conditions, but despite the wind, the sea is not rough. The water laps onto the ledge and we can see that the rock comes to a sudden stop just beyond it. The water looks very deep.

  ‘You can dive in,’ Joe tells me.

  ‘Have you?’ I ask him.

  He nods.

  I bet he looks hot in his swimming trunks. I see the dark outline of a couple of caves beyond him. ‘Have you been inside the caves?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah. Want to have a look?’

  ‘Sure.’ He leads the way. We reach the caves and go inside. The sound of the wind whistling through the hollowed-out space is loud, but it’s much more sheltered.

  ‘This is cool!’ I exclaim. ‘Shall we eat in here?’

  ‘Yeah, okay.’ He bends down and opens his backpack. Earlier, I gave him the food I’d prepared, along with a picnic rug, which he hands to me. I lay it out on the smooth rock. Joe sits down, but doesn’t look at me when I hand him his sandwich. It occurs to me that he’s bar
ely looked at me since he went off to tie up Dyson. I instantly feel on edge.

  ‘Are you alright?’ I ask nervously.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ He shrugs again, not meeting my eyes.

  He stares out of the cave opening while eating his lunch. I take a bite of my sandwich. His arm brushes against mine and it makes my hairs stand up, but I feel strangely separate from him. I don’t know what’s going through his head.

  We eat in silence and after a while he puts his leftover sandwich down and links his arms around his knees.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask gently, putting my food down too.

  He looks at my knees and shakes his head, but doesn’t answer.

  ‘Joe, you’re starting to worry me.’ He still won’t look at me. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask again.

  ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘And everything.’

  I tilt his chin towards me and force him to look at me. His eyes meet mine, darker in this cave, but still intense. A jolt goes through me, and then we’re kissing. We fall back onto the rug and I pull him on top of me, shivers travelling all the way up my body into my head. They keep coming in waves as he kisses me like never before. His hands slide inside of my top to my breasts and I gasp into his mouth as I reach down to unbutton his jeans.

  He looks at me and nods and I know that this time he has come prepared.

  Butterflies sweep into my stomach as I realise that this is it: I’m going to lose my virginity to Joe, beautiful, lovely Joe. A boy I love, a boy I will always love. Tears prick my eyes and I feel momentarily overwhelmed at the intensity of this thought, but I keep my lips pressed to his as we ease ourselves out of our jeans. He goes slowly and is worried when I cry out. The pain is acute, yet perfect, and I don’t want him to stop. Ever.

  ‘Wow. You look beautiful.’

  It’s Friday night and I’ve made an effort for Joe – an extra effort. I’ve persuaded my parents to go out for dinner and invited him over to the cottage for the evening. I’ve put on a little more make-up than usual and am wearing a short cream and red slip dress with my hair tied up into a tousled bun. I feel a bit overdressed for staying in, but I don’t care.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ I ask.

  ‘Only for you.’

  I laugh. ‘That’s so corny.’

  ‘I know.’ He looks at the oven. ‘That does smell good. What is it?’

  ‘Chicken wrapped in prosciutto with a white wine and cream sauce.’

  His mouth falls open. ‘That sounds amazing!’

  ‘It’s dead easy,’ I say flippantly. ‘It’s my mum’s recipe.’

  ‘Okay, maybe I am a little hungry after all.’

  It’s still bright and sunny outside by the time we sit down at the table, but I light a couple of candles, anyway.

  ‘What time are your parents back?’

  ‘They promised not until eleven.’

  ‘That was decent of them,’ he says. ‘I feel bad.’

  ‘Not bad enough to keep your hands off me, I hope.’

  He grins. ‘No.’

  ‘Then hurry up and eat so we can go upstairs.’

  It’s so different being with him in a bed. Feeling his naked body connected to mine is blissful in the extreme. On two occasions cars go by outside the cottage and we’re both on full alert in case it’s my parents returning early, but the rest of the time there’s nothing on my mind except Joe.

  ‘If you came to Cambridge with me we could do this every day,’ I murmur later.

  ‘Only once a day?’

  ‘I didn’t actually specify that.’

  He laughs. I climb on top of him and peer down at him. We’re both still hot and sweaty from the last time.

  ‘Again?’ he asks with a slight look of concern.

  I giggle. ‘No, don’t worry. Twice was enough.’ Pause. ‘For now.’ I peck him on the lips. He stares up at the ceiling.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ I ask.

  ‘Nine days.’

  Nine days until I leave.

  My smile falls. ‘I can’t believe I’ve only known you for just over a month.’

  He nods and looks into my eyes. ‘It feels like longer.’

  ‘A lifetime.’

  ‘Not yet.’

  Happiness bubbles through me. ‘Not yet?’

  ‘I love you so much. I can’t imagine ever loving anyone more,’ he says seriously.

  ‘Me neither.’

  Our kiss becomes more passionate and I feel him growing harder beneath me.

  ‘Once more?’ I ask.

  ‘Not if you don’t want to. I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘You won’t,’ I whisper.

  At least, not in that way.

  I cry after the last time. It feels more intense somehow, like we know our time together is limited.

  At ten to eleven, Joe is ready to leave. Neither of us wants to face my parents. Every day we’re brought down to earth with a bump, and we don’t want that tonight. It’s been too special.

  ‘I’ll walk you to the gate,’ I say, opening the front door.

  He steps outside onto the driveway and then freezes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask him.

  He’s tense as he stares into the darkness.

  ‘What?’ I ask, full of alarm. I go to peer out of the door, but he puts his hand out to stop me.

  ‘Dyson!’ he calls quietly into the darkness.

  The dog appears around the corner and Joe visibly relaxes.

  ‘What is it?’ I press.

  ‘Nothing. I thought I could smell smoke.’

  ‘Smoke?’

  ‘Cigarette smoke.’

  I give him an inquisitive look.

  ‘Ryan,’ he says simply.

  Now I’m the one who’s tense. ‘Come back inside.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine. It was probably just someone walking their dog. Dyson doesn’t seem worried.’

  It’s true. Dyson has flopped down at Joe’s feet.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask, feeling anxious.

  ‘Definitely. I’ll come by in the morning around ten.’

  I nod. ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’d better go before your dad gets back and realises I’ve been shagging his daughter.’

  I whack him on his arm.

  ‘Love you.’ He kisses me quickly.

  ‘You too.’

  And then he’s gone.

  At nine forty-five the next morning, I take my usual position outside on the bench. I’ve brought one of my course books – this time I’m trying to tackles Sophocles’ Oedipus – but no doubt I’ll sit and stare at the words and not take in any of them. I feel nervous when I think of starting university in a few weeks. I’m way behind on my preparation, and I do indeed like to be prepared. Maybe I will be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl on this one occasion. The Greek Tragedies can’t compete with Joe.

  By ten past ten, Joe still hasn’t arrived. I try to tell myself he’s just slept in, but apart from the last time he did that he’s usually very punctual. By ten forty-five, I’m anxious. My dad comes outside.

  ‘Joe still not here?’ he asks.

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s probably just slept in again,’ he says nonchalantly, but his words do nothing to alleviate my concern. ‘He’s a big boy, he can look after himself.’

  I stand up, full of determination. ‘Can I borrow Mum’s car to go and check on him?’

  He frowns, finally taking me seriously. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he decides. ‘I don’t want you going there by yourself.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’ But I’m not ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.

  I stare out of the car window, but there’s no sign of Joe. My dad parks and comes with me, refusing to let me go alone. I check the side of the pub and nearly faint with relief when I see Dyson tied up there.

  ‘Dyson!’ I call.

  He stands up and starts to bark madly in my direction.

  ‘Shh!’ I exclaim, rushing over to him to try to stop him from
alerting Joe’s parents. He’s deliriously happy as he licks my face and hands. ‘Where’s Joe?’ I ask him. He starts barking again and the fear and worry return.

  ‘I’ll go and check inside,’ my dad says.

  I turn back to Dyson. ‘Is he asleep?’ I ask him. He licks my face with his huge, slobbery tongue.

  ‘Argh!’ I bat him off good-naturedly.

  ‘Hello, beautiful.’

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up instantly. Slowly I turn around to see who I can only assume to be Ryan, leaning against the pub’s back door. He’s taller than Joe – and bigger, much bigger. His arms are decorated with tattoos and his blond hair is shorn. Stubble that is almost a beard, but not quite, graces his jaw. He’s wearing a white vest like the one Joe’s dad was wearing on the first night we came to this pub.

  I stand up. Dyson crouches low and growls at him.

  ‘Fuck off,’ he says nastily to the dog. ‘Pathetic piece of shit.’

  I have an urge to back away, but I keep my feet firmly on the ground.

  Ryan takes a cigarette out of a crumpled packet in his pocket and puts it to his lips, lighting it with a match. He starts to walk towards me. Dyson’s growls grow louder.

  ‘Fuck off,’ he says again. I start to back away. ‘Hey, where are you going?’ he asks in a silky voice.

  My dad appears behind me. ‘Alice!’ he says.

  Understanding registers on Ryan’s face. ‘Ah,’ he says and his tone sends a chill spiralling down my spine. ‘So you’re Alice.’

  ‘Where’s Joe?’ I demand to know.

  ‘Alice, come,’ my dad interrupts. There’s urgency to his tone.

  ‘Where’s Joe?’ I turn this question on my dad. He takes my arm and marches me around the corner. ‘Dad?’

  I can hear Ryan chuckling darkly behind me.

  ‘He’s in hospital,’ Dad tells me as we get closer to the car, his lips set in a hard, thin line.

  ‘What?’ I exclaim, blood draining from my face.

  ‘Come on,’ he says, more gently this time. He opens the car door and pushes me inside. ‘We’ll go there.’

  ‘What happened?’ I ask as he pulls onto the main road.

  ‘His mother said he fell down the stairs last night.’