Lloyd went back into the house to find matches while Sam waited. He returned with a pile of newspaper and some kindling.
'We'll barbecue it,' he said, and led the way.
It took ages to light because the weather had been damp recently, but once the wood took it built up a nice heat and everything began to burn. In the middle of the wigwam of wood, the tape melted into a charred black puddle, emitting a nasty smell that clung to the back of their throats. Lloyd prodded the fire with the metal tongs, making sure everything was burning properly.
'It stinks,' Sam said, coughing, but he didn't move away.
'Yeah. It's history,' Lloyd said stabbing at the charred remnants. 'I'll chuck it out when it's cooled down. Don't want Dad wondering why his steaks taste funny.'
'I'd better get going,' Sam said. 'Got a bus to catch.'
'Right.'
Lloyd made no move away from the barbecue pit. 'I'll see you then, Lloyd. I'll call you.'
'Yeah. I'd better stay here until it goes out completely.'
'Okay. I'll shut the door behind me. See ya around.' Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and headed back towards the house.
'Sam?'
Sam looked back. 'Yeah?'
'Thanks.'
Sam shrugged. 'It's okay.'
After that there was silence. No more meetings, no more phone calls. Nothing. Sam had had to give up in the end. He probably wouldn't recognise Lloyd now if he passed him in the street, and vice versa probably.
Best friends for one week six years ago. But Sam still missed him. Strange really.
'Open it then, darling,' his mum said, her hands squeezing his shoulders gently. 'Don't you want to know what's in it?'
Sam ripped the envelope open and pulled out a couple of sheets of folded paper. They had enrolled him at a driving school – two lessons a week. He'd be driving in no time. He turned to the last sheet. It was a receipt for a brand new car. Sam's hands shook a little as he folded up the papers and put them back in the envelope.
'Thanks,' he mumbled, overwhelmed. He stood up and gave them a hug. 'This means a lot to me,' he added. And it did. It meant freedom. Every kid's dream.
'You deserve it,' his dad said gruffly, patting him on the back.
'Yes, you do,' his mum said, hugging him hard. Her hand brushed his cheek softly. 'All grown up,' she whispered to herself more than to anyone else. Her eyes had teared up and she sniffed as she reached for her hanky. 'What time was your match, Sam?'
'Three o'clock.'
'Well, eat up or we'll be late,' she said.
Half an hour later he was being driven to his cricket match. His sixth form were playing another college and this was the first match of the season. Sam was on the team. He was a pretty good batsman, a fair fielder, but still couldn't bowl to save his life.
At the club he parted ways with his parents and headed to the changing rooms to meet up with the rest of the team. The college they were playing, Sunningford, was supposed to be pretty good, and one of their bowlers had just signed for a major county cricket club.
'So watch yourselves out there today, or pray to God that he's having an off day,' their captain said.
Sam changed into his whites and hefted his cricket bat in his hands. He was up to bat first. The stands were full; most of the college had turned out to watch, or maybe just to bask in the glow of the first hot, blue-skied weekend of the year. He walked across the green and faced the bowler. Fifty runs later, Sam decided that this wasn't their star bowler and that it wouldn't be long before they made a change. He wasn't wrong.
Ten minutes and another twelve runs later, he faced the new bowler. With that shock of red hair it could have been Lloyd, Sam thought for a minute, and then he wondered what Lloyd was doing right at this moment in time, and whether he even still played cricket.
Sam blinked as a drop of sweat trickled from his brow and into his eye. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and when he looked up the bowler was staring at him, waiting. He nodded that he was ready. He focussed on the ball. And with a clatter the wicket fell. He was out. He hadn't even seen it coming. Still, not bad – sixty-two runs was nothing to be ashamed of. He walked past the bowler on his way off the field.
'Bloody good bowl,' Sam said sportingly.
'Thanks.'
It wasn't just the red hair – there was something familiar in the set of his face. Or was it just because he'd been thinking of Lloyd that day?
'Not my best shot, Sam,' the bowler added as Sam turned away.
Sam stopped and looked back, a smile rising to his lips. 'You'll never beat that one!'
'Um, catch up with you later? After the match?' Lloyd asked. 'If you want.'
Sam smiled. 'Yeah. You bet.'
Out on the field with the sun blazing down and everything a brilliant green, the past fell back deep under six years of memories, safely back in its little box. The box had been shrinking over the years, and it shrank a bit more that day. It would get even smaller as time went on. Maybe one day it would disappear forever.
The Long Weekend Page 13
