“Yeah I bet,” he agrees sympathetically.
“We’re here?”
“We are,” he confirms, coasting to a stop and turning the engine off. “Come on, I don’t want to miss it.” He lifts a picnic basket out of the backseat of the truck and taking my hand leads me down the same path as last time. He picks a spot near the high tide mark and opens the basket, pulling out a blanket.
“Sit,” he says. “I’ll be back in a tick.”
I do as I’m told and watch as he jogs down the beach a hundred metres or so, stopping every now and then to pick up bits of driftwood. When he’s satisfied he has enough he jogs back, dropping them to a pile on the sand in front of me. He fishes in a pocket and pulls out a few tissues and some matches, then he drops to one knee and in almost no time at all we have a little fire crackling away in front of us.
“Where’d you learn how to do that?” I ask, impressed.
“Boy scouts,” he grins. “All those Tuesday nights away from the telly weren’t a complete waste.”
He blows on it a few more times to make sure it’s well established then he sits beside me and pulls me close. “I hope you’re not disappointed.”
“About what?”
“That I’ve brought you back here instead of whisking you off to some five star hotel for a spa night.”
I snuggle in against him. “Of course I’m not disappointed.”
We sit in silence, admiring the sky stretched out in front of us. Everything around us, the sand, the sea and our skin, is bathed in a cosy, golden glow. There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, a feeling of freedom.
It’s not cold, but I shiver.
“Are you cold?” Albert asks, concern in his voice.
‘No. Just, happy.”
“Good.” He smiles. “Good.”
He pulls a bottle of fizzy wine and two plastic cups out of his picnic basket and we make a toast to the end of the day and welcome the night. I am already heady with the freedom of being here with him, so it doesn’t take much for the wine to go to my head.
“God this is just amazing,” I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of the ocean and wood smoke. “Tell me we can stay here forever.”
“We can stay here forever.”
I open my eyes. “I wish that were true.”
“What’s stopping us? Apart from money I suppose. And I guess eventually we’d run out of food. And wine. And clean underwear. Then again do we really need underwear?” He winks at me suggestively.
“I can’t leave my sister.”
“Well sure, not now. But you’ll have to eventually. Unless you’re planning on living at home for the rest for your life.”
When I don’t answer he pulls back so he can see my face. “You’re serious?”
“I don’t see any other option. Bee needs me.”
“She has your mum.”
“Who works, and needs help.”
“Isn’t there some kind of government help available?”
I snort derisively. “’The government’ has no idea what caring for someone twenty four hours a day entails. Sure, there’s respite care available, but we’re not keen on that. The care homes charge massive payments but only pay their workers a minimum wage, which means they pretty much do the minimum expected of them. Not everyone is like that of course, but enough for us to feel uneasy leaving her there. Bee can’t tell us if someone manhandles her or does something they shouldn’t. We’d never forgive ourselves if anything happened.”
“What about your mum? What does she have to say about it?”
“We’ve never actually discussed it. It’s more of an understanding. I can’t leave her to deal with Bee on her own. It’s too much for one person.”
I look down and burrow my toes deeper into the sand. The sun is low in the sky now and the first stars are making themselves known. The horizon is streaked a beautiful rose pink, that deepens into mauve and then violet as the darkness deepens. There is no sound apart from the waves gently sweeping the shore, their white caps a beautiful phosphorescent blue.
“Anyway,” I say firmly, my tone brokering no argument. “That’s enough talk of that. I thought you brought me here to relax and forget about everything back home.”
“You’re absolutely right. Here,” he reaches for the bottle and tops up my glass. “Drink up and relax, Ma Cheri, whilst I prepare you a feast.”
“A feast?”
“Yes, a feast.”
“You can cook?”
“Why do you ask like that?”
“Like what?
“Like you have doubts.”
“Well, you know.” I look him up and down.
He sighs theatrically and places a hand on his chest, pulling a wounded face. “Always I am judged by my good looks alone.”
I have to laugh. He is pulling a fake outraged face but it just makes him look cuter.
Half an hour later I am eating my words. Not only them, but the most delicious and juicy piece of salmon I have ever eaten in my life. After fetching a small chilly bin from the truck, Albert proceeded to smugly wrap salmon in foil and drizzle the pieces with olive oil, a generous sprinkling of salt and pepper and some lemon slices. Then he put them in a heavy soot stained cast iron pan with a long handle and held them over the fire. The smell when he opened the foil to check if they were cooked made me groan with anticipation. Something about the seaside air has kicked my appetite into gear and I’m suddenly starving.
“Who says one can’t eat gourmet food at the beach,” he said triumphantly as he handed me a plastic plate with the piece of salmon and a side of coleslaw that he’d bought pre made from a supermarket.
“I stopped quickly for supplies before I picked you up,” he explained. “We also have another bottle of wine, and marshmallows, because let’s face it, you can’t have a beach campfire without marshmallows.”
We eat with our fingers as the juices run down our arms, and we toast each other with wine that tastes of summer nights. I breathe in the deliciousness that is the seaside, and delight in the heady intoxication of his company.
Albert
She is incredible.
In the flickering flames from the fire her face comes alive and her eyes shine, like some enchanted princess brought back to life with a kiss. My kiss. Or kisses, I should say, because I bestow her with about a thousand of them while we eat and drink until she protests that her lips are becoming numb under the onslaught.
“I’m sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I’ll stop.”
“Don’t you dare,” she says. “I was merely observing, not complaining.”
She’s as sexy as hell but without being aware of it. I may not have known her all that long, but already I can’t imagine my life without her. I never want to stop seeing her smile, or hear her laugh.
She is addictive.
I can’t get enough of her.
If this is addiction, I hope I’m never cured.
Maddy
“Ok your turn,” I giggle, a little drunkenly. “Truth or dare.” I am feeling wild and free of responsibility, and it feels sensational.
He narrows his eyes while he pretends to think about it. “You already know everything about me there is to know, so I guess it will have to be a dare. But please, be gentle with me, it’s my first time.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true.”
“Ok, dare,” I cast my eyes around in the dark for inspiration. I hear it rather than see it. “Well there’s really only one option available.”
“I’m a little scared.”
“You should be.” I take another swig of wine from my cup. I am feeling tipsy enough to be merry, to lower my usual inhibitions. But not drunk, not by a long shot. The cool sea air and Albert’s close presence and the way he keeps looking at me keep me sober. His eyes reflect the flames from the campfire, the orange giving him a fiery, wicked look.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asks huskily.
He is
so close I can feel his intensity. It comes off him like heat waves, and I wonder if he is feeling it just as much as I am. He leans in and I realise he is going to kiss me.
“Do you know how cold the water is?” I whisper when he is only millimetres away.
He blinks, swayed from his course. “Cold?”
“Yes, cold. Despite you trying to change the subject, I dare you to find out. Now.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“You want me to swim?”
“No. I want you to skinny dip.”
His eyes flicker with amusement. He pushes a strand of hair away from my face, his fingers lingering on my cheek. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll have to think of some form of punishment.”
His eyes drop to my mouth and the longing in them is raw and unashamed. He wants me. I know this as sure as I know I want him just as much. I have never felt a level of lust for someone the way I do for him. It’s almost all consuming.
“Would I like this punishment?”
“I guess it’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
He is torn, I can see it in his eyes, but the daredevil in him can’t refuse a challenge. He stands up and grins down at me, then lifts his t-shirt and jersey over his head in one smooth movement. His shoulders are broad and his waist is slender. He is defined but not muscular, athletic yet not in an obvious way. He is delicious.
“You sure you’re ready for this?” he teases, and I squeal and cover my eyes as he drops his pants. Only when I hear his footsteps on the sand heading away from me do I risk peeking between my fingers. His bum flashes white in the night as he runs down to the water and without hesitation he plunges in. It’s his turn to squeal.
“Shit it’s cold,” he shouts. “Shit shit shit.” He cups his hands in the water and splashes his hair in an effort to acclimatise. Then he wades until he is waist deep and dives smoothly under.
I stand and walk quickly down to the water’s edge, laughter shaking my shoulders in a way it hasn’t for so long. This is what life should be all about. The light from a half moon is reflected in the smooth surface of the water I watch as he surfaces, water streaming from his head. He shakes it off and smiles at me.
“Come on in, the water is lovely,” he calls.
“Yeah right,” I give him a dubious look and let the lapping water embrace my toes. It is not lovely. I step back quickly. He does a dolphin dive.
“No seriously,’ he says, remerging. “Once you’re in it’s ok, refreshing even.”
He takes advantage of my hesitation to swim in closer, stealthily, and before I realise what he’s up to he is standing, taking large strides towards me. I have no time to run before his arms have scooped me up and he is pulling me into the water with him.
It is even colder than I thought it would be, and the shock of it takes my breath away. He drops down while still holding me until the water is around my shoulders.
“This wasn’t part of the dare,” I say between gasps.
His face in the moon is all shadows and contours, but there’s no mistaking the intent in his eyes.
“So punish me,” he says, and then he lowers his head and kisses me.
I have never been kissed like this. So urgently, like we have been desperately searching for each other. I weave my hands behind his neck and hold on like my life depends on it. He starts moving out of the water quickly and we stumble up the beach, kissing, only pausing to lift my sodden jersey over my head, followed by the rest of my clothes, leaving a trail behind us.
The air is cold but I couldn’t care less. The heat from his skin is keeping me warm, and no matter how I try, I can’t get close enough to him. We reach the fire and break apart, breathless. I realise I am fully topless, and automatically my arms go to cover myself.
“Don’t,” he says. “You’re so beautiful.”
I have never felt more beautiful than I do standing there with his eyes drinking in the sight of me. We stand on opposite sides of the picnic blanket, a metre apart, staring at each other, breathing heavily.
“I don’t normally do this,” I say.
“Me either.”
We meet in the middle of the rug and I fall/am lowered down, Albert on top of me. My legs go around his waist, we move to meet and I can’t help it, I let out a primeval, guttural moan. It feels so fantastically, unbelievably good, and I squeeze my thighs around his waist tighter, my hands in his hair as he kisses my forehead and my cheeks before grinding his lips onto mine with an urgency I thought only existed in movies.
Afterwards we lie panting, breathless, our sweat mingling as we stare into each other’s eyes and marvel at this wonderful thing we have just done together, as if we are the only people clever enough to have to have done it so perfectly before.
“That’s twice we’ve made love alfresco on this beach,” I murmur, tracing my fingers along the curves of his chest. “Anyone would think we couldn’t afford a motel room.”
He nuzzles into my hair, his lips sending shivers down my body. “Would you rather be in a motel room, or out here?”
“Do you even need to ask?”
We make love twice more under the vast milky way until neither of us has any strength left, and then we fall asleep entwined together, his clothes lain haphazardly over us for warmth. When I wake a few hours later the horizon is pink; dawn is almost upon us. The fire has gone out and I shiver, which wakes him. He opens his eyes, the most perfectly beautiful thing I have ever seen, and smiles up at me.
“Morning beautiful.”
“Good morning.”
He pulls me in close and together we watch the birth of a new day, brilliant and gentle in its beauty. Like the day, I feel like I have been awakened, and I wonder how I am supposed to go back to my normal life after an experience such as this.
“Are you ok?” he asks when I sigh.
“I’m fine,” I smile, reassuring him. “Just wishing this didn’t have to end, I guess.”
“We’ll have more nights like this, I promise,” he says fervently. “This is just the beginning.”
I can’t shake my melancholy though. He’s given me a taste of what life can and should be like. What I’ve never dared let myself believe I could have. But I meant everything I said to him the night before. I can’t leave my mother to look after my sister all on her own. I just can’t. So where does that leave us?
“Come on,” he says, standing and pulling me to my feet. “There’s bound to be fishermen along shortly.”
My jeans have been stolen by the tide so I’m grateful I packed extra clothes. I lean my forehead against the cool glass and watch the world flash by. Everything feels different. I am different.
And yet everything is still just the same.
Albert
My euphoric mood from our night at the beach lasts approximately three days, before my father destroys it with his usual cruel efficiency.
At first when I get home from work and see him sat at the dining table with paperwork spread out in front of him and a steely expression I think mum and I have been rumbled and he knows she’d gone guarantor for me on the truck. Even though it was her idea we’d rather hoped to keep it between ourselves. I’m not worried for myself; after all I’m used to disappointing him. But I don’t want him to be mad at mum.
“Albert, have a seat,” he says sternly.
“Before you go off on one, I can explain.”
“Sit.”
I do as I’m told and am about to launch into a prepared speech about how it was all my idea and I’d bullied her into it when I catch sight of the letterhead on the paperwork. I’d know that logo anywhere; after all I’d grown up seeing it stitched onto the shirt on my father’s chest every morning when he’d head out to work.
“I’ve called in some favours,” he says.
“What sort of favours,” I ask cautiously.
“You’ve got an interview on the twenty third of next month. Provided you don’t say anything too stupid and
you pass the physical and medical, you’re in.”
“In?”
“Well there’s the formality of training college of course. But even you should manage not to stuff that up.”
“College?”
He sighs, and rubs his temples wearily. “Jesus Albert, you act this gormless in the interview and all my bloody arse kissing will have been a waste of time. I’ve talked you up boy, so don’t let me down. It’s not just you who’ll look stupid if you stuff this opportunity up.”
“What opportunity? I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”
He pushes the paper across the table towards me, at the same time rotating it so I can read what it says on the top.
APPLICATION
The penny drops and so does my stomach.
“Not interested,” I say flatly.
“I don’t care if you’re interested or not. You think people join the police force because they’re interested?”
“Yeah.”
“Some maybe,” he admits. “The rest of us understand that it’s a steady pay check, and a pretty good one at that. Pension at the end. And yes, there’s the chance to make a difference and save lives blah blah blah. But it’s job security Albert. Time goes on we get more crime, not less. They’re never going to lay off cops.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still not interested.”
He pushes his chair back angrily and gets to his feet, leaning forward to point a finger in my face.
“Are you planning on working at the stables for the rest of your life? Earning peanuts?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“That’s your problem right there. You don’t think.”
“Look, dad. I’m sorry, ok? Thanks, but being a cop isn’t my gig. It’s yours.”
“Sorry? Gig? You’re an ungrateful little bastard, that’s what you are. Wendy!”
The laundry door opens and my mother comes out. He turns to her and she flinches under his red and angry gaze.
“Tell him,” he says, agitated. I see spittle fly out of his mouth and land on her cheek. “Tell him he’s being an idiot. You mollycoddled him growing up and made him the way he is. Now you fix it.”
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