Summer Loving

by Nicola Yeager

  I stroke his hair. He’s pursing his lips and I can see he’s trying to stop himself from blubbing. God almighty, this whole thing is making emotional wrecks of all of us.

  ‘Then it finally hit me. You weren’t coming back and I’d probably never see you again. And I felt like an idiot, you know? I thought about what I could have said or done. It didn’t make sense, but I felt like it was my fault that you’d gone. I sort of knew that you loved me and you knew that I loved you, but then I thought, well, that can’t be the case if she’s going off to Scotland. I mean, you couldn’t have gone any further away if you’d tried. I reckoned maybe you thought it was just a gap year fling or something. I don’t know what I thought.’

  I hold him so tight he groans with pain. ‘Oh no. You couldn’t have been more wrong. I adored you. I just kept thinking that something would happen at the last minute and I wouldn’t have to go. I…’

  You’ve guessed it. I’m sobbing again. When all this is over, I’m going to have to have therapy. There can be no doubt about it.

  ‘But you didn’t say anything and suddenly I was there. I was so, so miserable. I hated it. I tried to put you out of my mind, but I never could. I don’t even remember why I applied to go there in the first place. I was just nineteen and I was bloody stupid.’

  Kirstan pulls me closer to him and runs a hand down the side of my thigh. I start to melt into him and I know what’ll be coming next. He tries to sound casual when he speaks, but the pain in his eyes gives him away.

  ‘So anyway, I was just pissed and wrecked all the time, basically, and started really fucking up. I mean, you didn’t need a degree in astrophysics to work in the surf shop, but eventually I couldn’t even do that and Corin fired me. That was about two months after you’d gone. So I was just this pissed beach bum on the dole, for want of a better description. Actually, that sounds quite cool, now I think of it. Anyway, I didn’t have anywhere to live and just crashed on people’s floors. Crashed being the operative word. Crashed and smashed.’

  ‘Baby.’

  ‘Larry felt sorry for me, I reckon. When he suggested the France thing, I knew that would be the answer. I had to get away from Cornwall and never go back. I couldn’t stand being there anymore. I didn’t care where I went as long as it wasn’t there. Being in Cornwall was killing me. And at the end of all of that, here I am. And here you are.’

  I truly don’t want to leave this room. Ever. I just want to stay here listening to the surf and block everything and everyone out.

  This holding him tight business is starting to have the inevitable effect. His hand slides up my thigh to my hip and soon it’s on my bottom. Then his finger is slowly tracing a line up my spine and we’re kissing again. I get totally lost in the sensation. I feel like I’m drinking him in like cool, fresh water on a hot day. I feel like I’m alive again. And damn the soreness. And the consequences.

  Eleven

  I really didn’t want to wake up this morning. You know those days when you’ve got something awful to do? Like a nasty appointment with the bank manager, a nasty dental appointment, or just simply going to work? When the first thing that pops into your mind is a huge, groaning ‘OH NO’?

  Well this is one of those mornings. I’ve got so much to think about today, so much to do, that I wish I could delegate it to someone else. Or just go back to sleep for a month or two. Ideally, I’d have someone take over my life for the next few days, and when they’ve finished all the crap stuff they can give me a shove and say, ‘OK, Saskia. All the bad stuff’s over now. I dealt with it. You can inhabit your life again.’

  Unfortunately that doesn’t happen, so I’ve got to sort it all out myself. I turn on my side and watch Kirstan sleeping. I know I made the right decision about last night. There’s no doubt in my mind about that at all. At the same time, I don’t want to turn into one of those spoilt bitch types who’ll use someone like Franklin for a couple of years, get a load of nice, expensive stuff and then dump him, even though he’s never been that pleasant to me. I’ll have to take today one stage at a time.

  First of all, I’ve got to get out of here, get back to my room, get changed, have a shower and then get down to breakfast as if nothing had happened. I just hope that Estelle won’t be there. I must have time to think and I don’t want to get distracted by mindless chat, or visions of Estelle being consoled over a sink by a sympathetic policeman, while she hangs onto the taps. I just know I’m going to remember that image for the rest of my life.

  After that, I’ve got another surfing lesson. Awkward or weird (there’s that word again) as it might be, I still have to go ahead with it. After all, I’ve told Estelle that I had a lesson this morning. If I cancelled it, I’d only have to make up more lies to explain the cancellation away and I’m getting exhausted from all the lying, despite the fact I’m getting quite good at it and could teach it as a life skill in some college. I’ll talk to Kirstan about it when he wakes up.

  I wonder if I’ll actually get to stand up on the board. That would be something. I’ve heard so many people go on about surfing and how wonderful it is, that I can’t wait to try it and see if they’re right. I’m sure they are.

  Then I’ve got lunch. This will inevitably be with Estelle, unless I can somehow avoid it, or tell her I’ve got something else to do. Maybe I can use the morning’s surfing lesson as an excuse. Tell her I broke my neck, or swallowed too much sea water and feel too sick for lunch. I’ve got to be careful with her. I feel it would be a mistake to piss her off too much, even though I owe her nothing.

  Despite the fact that I’ve only known her for a day, she made it fairly clear that she perceives me as a rival of some sort, maybe just because of my age. She’s a little bitter, unpredictable and paranoid as well, so that makes her even more dangerous, if dangerous is the right word. Perhaps ‘nasty’ would be more appropriate. Poisonous, even. I wonder what she was like before she embarked on her current lifestyle. She might have been nice. She mentioned she was divorced. I wonder what happened?

  Also, it sometimes feels like Franklin and Tybalt have told her to keep an eye on me while they’re off golfing. This is such a strong feeling, that, crazy as it is, I think it might be true, so I’ll be careful not to put a foot wrong and watch what I say to her.

  Ideally, I’d like to have lunch with Kirstan. We need to talk about things. This might be difficult and it will depend on the other lesson or lessons he has. I have to say, the fact that this is his last day is stressing me out. It feels like there’s so much pressure on both of us to make some quick decision and that’s never a good idea. If only things were normal! It’s as if we’re having a secret affair, have plans to elope, and have to watch our backs all the time. Actually, that’s exactly what’s happening now I come to think of it.

  After lunch, whoever that will be with, I’ve got a sort of dead period, lasting from mid-afternoon through to the time that Franklin and Tybalt return from their golfing adventure. I don’t know what I’m going to do during this period. I think I’ll just find somewhere to hide. I think I heard Tybalt say that he’d text Estelle when he knew the time he and Franklin would be back so she could reserve a table for dinner.

  Then I’ve got dinner with the three of them. Me and my big secret. I can’t imagine what that’s going to be like. I won’t be alone with Franklin until after dinner, though what I’m going to do then, I have no idea. That’s the problem; I still don’t know what I’m going to do about all of this. Well, I do really, but I don’t know how I’m going to go about it. On top of that, I’m going to have to think about what I’m going to wear tonight. Everything must seem in order.

  I think I’d be a cruel bitch to tell Franklin just after he’s returned from an enjoyable day or so of prestige golfing at wherever it was. It’d have to wait until tomorrow. I’ll be nice. I’ll be reasonable. I’ll be kind. I’m sure he’ll understand. After all, he’s not stupid. It couldn’t last forever, could it?

  Of course, he may not see it that way.
This isn’t like dumping an unwanted boyfriend when you’re fourteen. There’s money involved here. Money, status and ego. I must ask Kirstan what his immediate plans are. If this is his last day teaching here, when is he going off to Italy? Straight away? Maybe he’s changed his mind about it after what’s happened. Maybe he doesn’t have to run away any more. I hate all this uncertainty.

  I wish I could afford to employ someone to tell me what to do. I wish I had a really good friend I could confide in. Someone I’d known since school. But I don’t have friends any more. How did that happen? I wonder what Julie, my friend from university, is doing now?

  So that’s today sorted out, I don’t think. See what I mean about not wanting to wake up? Kirstan rolls over onto his side and pushes me into the same position, so we’re spooning. I’m getting that feeling again, where it seems like no time has elapsed at all between now and our year together in Cornwall.

  Suddenly, Kirstan jerks up and says, ‘Oh!’

  He leans over his side of the bed and scrabbles around underneath it, looking for something. A second later, he rolls me onto my back and hands me a small object wrapped up in a scrap of old newspaper.

  Whatever it is, it’s hard. I take the newspaper off to find I’m holding a beautiful yellow and white sea shell in my hand.

  ‘It’s called a Florida Cone. They’re quite common here, really. Happy birthday, Sask.’

  I’m overwhelmed. ‘I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  We’re kissing again. My arms are around his neck, pulling him towards me, onto me, into me. I hear the Florida Cone fall onto the carpet. I can hear people talking on the beach and I wonder if they can hear us.

  Twelve

  ‘Sassy! Yoo-hoo! Over here!’

  Damn. I haven’t had breakfast this late since I’ve been here and I still haven’t managed to avoid her. She looks fine this morning. After last night, I’d have expected her to be a little subdued or hung-over, but she can obviously take her booze - or her booze and uppers cocktail or whatever.

  She’s wearing a beautiful, sleeveless, white micro plissé dress with an amazing semi-circular orange pattern across the front. There’s a rather bold matching plexi bangle on her wrist. She should have worn it last night; she might have got lucky. As before, it’s an outfit more suited to the evening, but it still looks nice - and expensive, and she looks nice- and expensive - in an over-the-hill call-girl sort of way.

  ‘I thought you weren’t coming this morning, Sassy. Are you alright?’

  ‘Alright? Yes. Why?’

  ‘Nothing. You just seemed to be limping a little when you walked across just now. Probably due to all your exertions yesterday. On the surfboard, I mean.’ She’s smiling at me like the cat that’s got the cream. At least it’s a change from the draining self-pity of last night.

  I go over to the buffet and fill up a plate with various meats, cheeses and pastries. I’ve got a real appetite this morning. Kirstan, predictably, had no food in his place. When the waiter appears and asks what drinks we’d like to have, I order a large cafetière of coffee for myself. Estelle raises her eyebrows at this.

  ‘Thirsty this morning are we?’

  ‘Well, yesterday when I asked for a second coffee, it took ages for them to bring it,’ I lie. ‘I’m feeling a little dehydrated this morning. Probably all the sea water I swallowed yesterday.’

  ‘And quite an appetite, too!’ she says, looking at my plate. ‘You did mention that your surfing lesson took it out of you. You obviously need the calories this morning. I could only manage one croissant. Are you alright with sitting down? Not too uncomfortable, is it?’

  I ignore this remark, though I’m starting to feel uneasy.

  ‘Are you feeling OK this morning, Estelle? You weren’t looking very well last night.’

  ‘Much better, thanks. A little too much vino last night, I think. I was just watching you walk back from the buffet. You’ve got a definite limp there. Funny. I didn’t notice that yesterday. Are you sure it was to do with your surfing lesson?’

  ‘Well, these things can often get worse when you’re asleep.’

  ‘Can they? How does that work?’

  ‘You must have done something like it. Gone for a long walk, or something like that, and in the morning, you’re all stiff.’

  ‘Hm. Talking of stiff, you’ve got another surfing lesson this morning, haven’t you? That should be interesting.’

  ‘Why should it be interesting?’

  ‘To see if you can do it standing up, of course. Might be a bit difficult with that limp, though.’

  I can smell a rat here. My newly discovered lying skills are obviously being tested. I stuff a miniature chocolatine in my mouth to avoid having to speak for thirty seconds and casually stare out of the window.

  Shit.

  How could I have been so damn stupid? The chalets. You can see them from this breakfast room. Tybalt mentioned them and I’d forgotten. Estelle must have seen me coming out of Kirstan’s.

  Double shit.

  I have to think quickly. I can’t quite work out what the consequences of this might be. I suddenly feel very slightly ill.

  Firstly, this means that Estelle has got something on me that I don’t want her to have on me, which is always an unpleasant feeling, but if you mix that up with her jealousy of me and all the warnings off, then it becomes a little more worrying. In her mind, it’ll mean that she has nothing more to worry about as far as I’m concerned, not that she ever did, but there you go.

  This could be a good thing, though. She’s mentioned a couple of infidelities and I’m sure there could be more. So maybe it’ll bring us closer together in some seedy way. Not that that I want to be closer to Estelle, really. Besides, we’ll probably never see her again after this holiday is over, whenever the hell that will be. For the first time since I got here, I realise that I’d like this holiday to be over as soon as possible.

  Secondly, it may scupper my plans to tell Franklin what’s going to happen in a calm, laid-back, poignant and matter of fact way; if that was ever going to be possible. If, God forbid, she texts Tybalt with this fab piece of gossip, he’ll tell Franklin and then there will be a scene when they get back. It could even be an embarrassing scene, which will be worse. Scenes I can just about handle, but embarrassing scenes really make my ass drag.

  The thing is, all three of them are so, shall we say, unusual, that it’s difficult to guess how any of them might react to a piece of news like this. It’s difficult to guess how any of them might react to anything.

  I could, of course, try to lie my way out of the whole thing. I could say that I was not feeling at all well today (possibly hung-over after last night) and decided that I wasn’t up to having another lesson. But that doesn’t make sense. I’d probably have told her that by now. Or would I? Hm. That’s a bit of a clutching at straws lie, really, but it’ll have to do.

  I got up early. I knew where that instructor lived. The sports reception area wasn’t open, so I thought I’d tell him personally as soon as I could, so as not to waste his time or mine. Convincing? I don’t know. Here goes, anyway.

  ‘Well, to be honest, Estelle,’ I lean forward, confidentially, ‘I don’t think I was really fit enough for all that splashing around in the water. In fact, I popped down to that instructor’s chalet earlier this morning to tell him that I wouldn’t be doing the second lesson.’

  Estelle laughs. ‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to go to the sports reception area, my dear? They’re open at seven-o-clock because of the gym. He’s a very nice looking chap, that instructor. Very well-toned, I would say. The energetic type.’

  She looks at me and smiles, but her eyes are as dead as ashes.

  ‘Please don’t think I’m naïve, Sassy. It is part and parcel of being the sort of women we are. We have to grab it when and where we can. If you manage to grab it with a fit young surfing instructor, then good luck to you. I wish I could be as lucky. I wish I could limp into breakf
ast like you did this morning. You go for your surfing lesson. Who knows? You may be able to fit a quickie in before Franklin returns. Your secret is safe with me.’

  She’s got me. I have to go along with this, but I still don’t trust her.

  ‘Thanks, Estelle, dear. Thank you for being so understanding.’

  ‘We’re going to have to have a little girl time together soon. I want you to tell me absolutely everything that happened last night. Every tiny detail. You mustn’t leave anything out, promise? When a girl like you limps up the beach with that sort of look on her face and that sort of glow on her skin, it has to be a tale worth telling, don’t you think?’

  I smile, nod and stuff another mini chocolatine in my mouth. I feel a little sick. Ideally, some hostile aliens would burst into the room and Estelle would be vaporised, but I think that’s a little too much to ask.

  When I get to the sports reception area, Janica is there behind the counter, as she was yesterday. She’s wearing a pale blue wetsuit, but hasn’t got into the top bit yet, so it flops around her waist. She’s got a fluorescent pink rash vest on, but it’s not high enough around the neck to hide a pair of very conspicuous love bites, which she’s tried to hide with the wrong sort of makeup. She laughs as she sees me looking.

  ‘Surfing injury. Came off the board, board got hit by a wave, came flying back and hit me in the neck. I turned around the other way and the same thing happened on the other side. What are the chances of that happening, eh? A million to one, I reckon.’

  I rummage in my handbag and give her a large stick of concealer.

  ‘Try this. I think it’s your skin tone.’

  ‘Well, it’ll come off in the water soon enough, but I’ll give it a go. Thanks, Saskia. Or can I call you ‘Sask’ now?’