by Chris Vick
‘Hannah … Lancaster. Goofy does stuff for your dad …’ It all clicked inside Jake’s head. ‘Pete Lancaster’s your dad?’
‘Yes. Is that … er, okay?’
‘Of course. I’m just … well. He’s a big cheese around here. He’s got a … rep, you know?’ Jake couldn’t find the words. Not honest ones. He’d never met the guy. But he knew plenty who had. And there was the time Lancaster had tried to buy their cottage off their landlord. That had been ugly. Too ugly to tell Hannah about right now.
‘He’ll want to know I’m okay,’ she said. ‘If I can get a message or two out, we can, you know, spend some time together? … If you’re not busy.’
‘Sure. I’d like that.’
Her smile came back. The sun, from behind a cloud.
They walked back to the dunes. Hannah sat on the bedding while Jake searched the sea of bodies.
Goofy was lying on his board bag. His jeans and pants were halfway down his bum, his mouth wide open and snuffle-snoring.
‘What a sight,’ said Jake. He picked up a seagull feather and wedged it down Goofy’s butt-crack.
‘Gerroff,’ Goofy slurred. ‘You’ve got your wetty on. You’ve been surfing and you didn’t wake me. Bastard. How is it?’
‘Decent. It’s got a bit of—’
‘N’er mind. What happened with you and that Hannah? Vanished, you did.’
‘She’s sat over there.’
Goofy looked over, and nodded his approval. ‘You be nice to this one, you hear?’
‘I’m always nice.’
‘Right. While it lasts.’
‘Listen, man, can you drive us? Hannah needs to get a signal, and we need some breakfast.’ Jake lowered his voice. ‘Away from this lot. Bit of privacy, like.’
‘Course. Gissa few minutes.’
*
They piled into the front of Goofy’s knackered van.
They’d drive to Penzeal, and get a signal over the moors. Then head to a café soon as one opened.
‘Quick brekky, then we’ll have you at your friend’s before they even wake up,’ said Goofy. ‘Don’t you worry ’bout nothing.’
‘Okay, great,’ said Hannah. She was looking at her phone. Concentrating on it.
‘You all right?’ said Jake.
‘Yes.’ She kept her eyes pinned to the phone. It lit up. Notifications streamed on to the screen. She scrolled through. Paused.
‘Shit. Dad’s coming to Phoebe’s to pick me up. We’re going to brunch with family friends.’
‘When?’ said Jake.
‘Now. Goofy, can you drive me there?’
Jake put a hand on Hannah’s arm. ‘It’s early. He’ll wait till you’re awake and you’ve sent a reply, right?’
‘Not Dad. He’ll just turn up.’ She was sitting bolt upright, looking at the screen. Frowning again.
‘Don’t stress,’ said Jake. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. He’ll be okay, as long as he knows you’re all right. Let’s go for coffee: we can drop you in a bit.’
Hannah shot him a look like he didn’t understand. Like he didn’t have a clue.
‘No. I know we – I – haven’t done anything wrong. Look, I just don’t want to do a whole lot of explaining. We have to get there before him. Goofy, I’ll give you directions.’
*
They parked outside the drive of Phoebe’s house. What now? Jake thought.
Number swaps. Arranging to meet. But definitely meeting up? Or super-casual, yeah-I’ll-text-you vagueness?
Not this time. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her to know it. Fuck playing cool.
Hannah glanced up and down the road before turning to Jake. She opened her mouth to speak. But before she could a sleek, blue Merc sped round the corner and pulled up in front of the van.
Hannah’s father got out and stood square in front of the windscreen, hands on hips, looking from Goofy, to Jake, to Hannah.
He wore pressed jeans, deck shoes and a white shirt. He was tanned and smooth, but serious-looking.
‘Look, maybe you guys should go,’ said Hannah.
‘Why?’ said Jake. She smiled, weakly. Clearly, he still didn’t understand.
‘Can’t just scarper, can we?’ said Goofy. ‘I know your old man. Be rude not to say hello.’
How would it look if they just revved out of there? Like they were running away.
When Hannah got out, Jake followed. Goofy got out of the driver’s side.
‘Dad. Hi.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘We just went to get some … things for breakfast. The boys came over this morning.’ Her voice was high and forced. She was a bad liar.
‘So where are the breakfast things?’ said Hannah’s dad. He didn’t move, or raise his voice, or blink. Hannah shrank in his gaze.
‘The shop was closed,’ said Jake.
‘You know Goofy,’ said Hannah. ‘This is Jake.’ Pete Lancaster looked him up and down.
‘All right, Mr Lancaster,’ said Goofy.
Lancaster nodded at Goofy, then turned his eyes back to Jake.
‘Good party, was it?’ How he said it. It was a simple question, but loaded.
‘Yeah, we had a great time last night,’ said Jake. Hannah bowed her head.
‘Hannah, you don’t look like you had much sleep,’ her dad said.
It was true. Gorgeous as she was, she looked washed out. Party-broken.
‘I’m fine, Dad.’
‘Anything you need to get from the house?’
‘No. The girls are asleep. I can get it later.’
Pete Lancaster turned back to the car, opened the passenger door, then went and stood on the driver’s side, waiting.
Jake hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Now he had to do it with this guy watching.
‘Bye, then,’ said Jake.
Hannah looked to her father and back to Jake. She put her hand on the door, about to get in.
Then she bit her lip, thinking for a second, and ran to Jake. She kissed his cheek, bringing her lips close to his. Lingering. She whispered her number in his ear.
‘Got it?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he whispered back.
Hannah and her dad got into the Merc, and it slid quietly away.
‘Pen, paper, phone. Quick,’ said Jake.
‘Why?’ said Goofy.
‘Her bloody number, that’s why.’ He went into the van, searching his sleeping bag and rucksack, saying the number out loud to himself. Repeating it over and over while Goofy laughed.
Hannah
SHE’D FALLEN FOR Jake.
It had only been a couple of weeks. But this was like some drug taking over her mind, her body and her every waking thought. Her dreams. Deeper every day.
Two weeks of cloudless summer days.
They lay on the sand till they baked. They cooled down in skin-biting water. Walked cliffs with her sheepdog, Beano.
In the evenings Jake worked shifts in the Queen’s Arms. Afterwards, he walked her home.
More than once she saw the curtains flicker in the shadows. She wanted them – Mum at least – to meet him, to see what she saw. But for now she wanted to keep Jake safe. From questions. Because there would be a lot of them.
*
So they visited Jake’s family first.
It was away from the village, at the end of a terrace of cottages, near the cliff tops.
All the other cottages gleamed smart. Not Jake’s house. Later, Hannah told Bess, it had ‘ramshackle charm’. In truth, the roof slates were loose and covered in moss and the walls were stained grey by summer sun and winter storms.
But the weedy lawn was freshly mown, and in the corner of the garden Jake had built a pretty pink painted shed for his sister. There were stickers and dream-catchers in the windows. The house was run-down, but it looked like a home.
They’d hardly got through the door when a boy and a girl appeared.
‘You’re the dolphin lady,’ said the girl. Hattie was ten, with dark ringlets, and round e
yes like Jake’s.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
Sean was fourteen. Runner-bean skinny, with straw-blond hair to his shoulders. He was grinning madly.
‘You must be special. He don’t normally bring them home.’
Jake took a firm grip on his brother’s nipple, and twisted hard.
‘That hurt!’ Sean yelped.
‘Good.’
Hattie laughed, and poked Sean, joining in.
‘Stop. Now.’ Jake’s mum stormed out of the kitchen. She was plump, younger than Hannah expected, with long dark hair and dressed in jeans and a shirt. She glared at her sons, wiping her hands on her jeans, then the hair off her face.
‘I’m April.’ She grabbed Hannah by the shoulders and kissed both her cheeks. ‘Come in, love,’ she said, walking back to the kitchen. Jake and Hannah followed.
The walls had paper peeling off in the corners, showing patches of mould. Wind whistled down the chimney. The kitchen was clean, but crammed.
‘We’re having curry,’ said April.
Hannah spied the pile of veg and the joints of chicken on the sideboard.
‘Yes. Lovely.’
‘Mum,’ said Jake. ‘She only eats fish. I told you.’
April sighed, heavily, like that was one thing too many to remember.
‘Get Sean to cycle down the Co-op for a bag of prawns.’
‘I’m fine,’ said Hannah. ‘I can just take the meat out. Let me help.’ She ran to the sideboard, pushed some letters out of the way and grabbed a chopping board and knife.
‘Oh,’ said April. ‘Um, okay.’ She tidied quickly, so Hannah had some room. But she wasn’t so quick that Hannah didn’t see the bills. One, unopened, was from the gas board. Another, open, had FINAL DEMAND printed in ugly, red letters. April saw Hannah’s face. Saw that she had seen, and gave a small, embarrassed smile.
*
The evening went well. Hannah was determined it would. She liked Jake’s family and home, and she worked hard at being liked, herself. She answered Hattie’s questions about dolphins. She teased Jake, with Sean. They ate the curry and drank beer and wine.
Sean and Hattie watched her all the time, carefully curious about everything she did. She forced herself not to lift her little finger off her wine glass, and to use just her fork to eat, in her right hand.
They asked Hannah about herself, her family.
‘Pete Lancaster’s your dad, isn’t he?’ said Sean. She’d heard those words before. Sometimes they made her nervous.
‘Yes. He is.’
‘He tried to kick us out of here,’ Sean said, stuffing rice into his mouth.
‘Sean!’ said April. ‘What my oaf of a son is getting at is that your dad wanted to buy this place.’
Hannah looked at Jake. ‘Really? Jake never said.’
Jake turned to Sean. ‘I told you not to say anything.’
That mad grin was splashed over Sean’s face. He was buzzed by the trouble he was causing.
‘You didn’t want to sell?’ said Hannah.
April laughed. ‘Bless you. We don’t own this house. Your dad tried to get us out so he could buy it from the owners. But we have tenants’ rights. And that counted, no matter how hard he tried to persuade us.’
The way April had said ‘persuade’, it could mean anything.
Hannah focused on her food, picking at it with her fork. She’d lost her appetite.
‘Sorry. About my dad. I don’t know much about his business.’
‘We didn’t want to leave, you see,’ said April.
‘Yeah,’ said Sean. ‘We told him where to stick his offer.’
Jake stared at his brother. Unblinking.
‘Well … good … for you.’ Hannah searched for words. ‘You did the right thing. I’m glad you stayed.’ She smiled at Jake.
April poured Hannah more wine. ‘Sorry, love. We didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘I’m glad we stayed too,’ said Sean. ‘We’re the only ones that did. All our neighbours are grockles now. Saps. This place is empty in winter.’
Hannah felt awful. She hadn’t done anything, but she felt blamed. Guilty.
‘Shut your mouth, Sean,’ said Jake.
Sean beamed his crazy grin at Hannah, then at Jake. ‘Make me.’
Jake leapt up and had his brother on the ground so quickly it made Hannah jump. It looked serious. She thought he was going to punch Sean, till she saw – with relief – that Jake had Sean’s forearms under his knees and his brother’s nose between his thumb and fingers, squeezing. He was playing, but making a point. The kid was hurting, but laughing too.
‘Say sorry for being a dick,’ said Jake.
‘Get off me or I’ll fart,’ Sean shouted.
‘No, you will not!’ said April.
‘Dare you,’ shouted Hattie.
Jake squeezed Sean’s nose hard, then his ear. Sean trumped, loudly. Hattie shrieked with joy.
April rushed to the cupboard, came back with a broom, and started prodding at her sons as Jake tortured Sean, and Sean wriggled to get free.
Hattie was holding her nose and waving her other hand to get rid of the smell. She was near helpless with laughter.
It might have disgusted Hannah. This scene. What Mum would call a display of vulgarity.
But she didn’t mind. And that surprised her.
She stood up and stepped back from the awful stench, giving April room as she poked and shouted. April looked at Hannah, pleading: What can I do with them?
Hannah shrugged. Soon, she was helpless with laughter too.
*
Later, Hannah helped April with the washing-up. April said she would do it herself, but Hannah insisted.
They worked, April humming, elbow-deep in suds, Hannah busy with the tea towel.
April had been so nice, but Hannah still felt bad, like there was a mark against her. After a while, she put the damp towel down and put her hand gently on April’s arm. She waited till April looked at her.
‘I’m not my dad,’ she whispered. ‘And I really like Jake.’
‘I know, love. I know.’
*
She sent him a text one morning:
Jake, Yr turn to see my home. As yr not wkng 2nite, wld u lk 2 come over for dinner?
Hx
PS M and D away. Will have place 2 Rselves
*
At a café in town, she showed Phoebe and Bess the text.
‘Well,’ said Phoebe. ‘I think we know what “place to ourselves” means, don’t we?’
‘It means more than frottage on the beach, Hannah Lancaster. Right?’ said Bess.
‘What does frottage even mean?’ said Hannah.
Her parents would be away. Hannah and Jake would be together. Not fumbling on a beach blanket, in some den between the rocks.
Jake would be in her bed.
Jake
HANNAH’S FAMILY LIVED in one of the old merchant houses on the cliffs near Whitesands Bay.
Jake got a good look at it as he walked down the drive in the evening sun. It was huge. Three storeys high, a covered porch, freshly painted white walls and a tall hedge surrounding the gardens. You’d need a sit-down mower for a lawn that size.
Amazing, the money you could make, owning boats and renting out cottages.
Jake knew there was no one there apart from Hannah, but he still felt on show. Watched somehow.
The security camera over the porch door didn’t help.
He rang the bell, and waited.
He was wearing jeans, but they’d been ironed. Mum had cleaned his shoes with a damp cloth. His shirt was crisp and white. He’d even trimmed his beard into trendy stubble. He had a bottle of wine in his hand, notes for a cab home in one pocket and condoms in another. Just in case. He didn’t expect it. But …
They hadn’t shagged yet. Almost, but not quite. The beach was no-go. His place was a dead end; even if Mum was cool, Sean would listen through the walls.
Tonight they were alone. It might be
different.
He rang the doorbell, again.
‘Hellooooooo!’ It was Hannah’s voice, through an intercom. ‘I’ve been watching you.’ He looked up, smiled at the camera.
The door opened. She was wearing a green Roxy summer dress, light and clinging. She had smoky eye make-up on. And lippy.
‘Wow. You look proper … I mean … Amazing. You look amazing.’
‘A change from shorts and a T-shirt, right?’ she said, curtseying. ‘You dressed smart.’
‘Um, yeah.’ He felt like an arse. Like he’d tried too hard.
‘You look great, Jake. Handsome. I’m glad you made the effort.’ She smiled, kissed him and took the wine. ‘Sancerre, niiice. Come on,’ she said, and led him into the house.
He’d known the family had money, but this? Bloody hell. Just the hallway was massive. In a corner was a large bronze statue of a nude girl. On the walls framed photos of the family sailing, a huge modern-art painting of the nearby cliffs, an ancient drawing of a girl selling fish at the quayside.
It wasn’t just money. It was taste.
His shoes thunked on the chequered marble floor as he followed Hannah. The kitchen was huge too, with black granite surfaces, a wooden work station and a breakfast bar. At the far end of the kitchen was an old oak table, set for two.
Nu-folk music drifted out of unseen speakers. He smelt herbs and candles. Good smells. Hannah’s dog, Beano, was sitting, strangely quiet in a basket in the corner, as though even he had to behave himself in this place.
‘The house is fantastic,’ said Jake.
‘Um, yeah. I guess. I’m making you steak.’
‘But you’re a pesky whatsit.’
‘Pescatarian. I’m having swordfish.’ She smiled and waved her hand over the table, like a magician’s assistant showing the final part of a trick.
‘This is all a bit grown-up,’ he joked. He felt out of place. Weirdly wrong about being there.
Hannah came up and stroked his cheek, then laughed.
‘Don’t worry, Jake. The folks aren’t here,’ she said. ‘No grown-ups. Just us.’
‘Yeah.’ He relaxed. This was just him, and Hannah. They could do what they wanted.
He opened the wine.
‘My dad collects it,’ she said as he poured. ‘That and boats. It’s like an obsession with him. He’s got loads. A cellar, full.’
