I found the key and let myself in to the cottage. Then I got my phone out and switched it on to see if Mum had left a message on my voicemail.
She had.
Three.
‘TJ. Your dad’s not good. I’m taking him to the hospital in case he’s had another stroke. Keep your phone switched on so that I can get in touch if there’s any news. I’ll call as soon as I can.’
‘TJ. Oh God, where are you? Why haven’t you got your phone on?’
‘TJ. I’m at the hospital now. The doctors are doing what they can. Here’s the number of the ward. 01752 33546,ward 14. Call when you get this message.
Suddenly the day felt cold. My happy mood disappeared like water down a drain.
Mum wouldn’t hear of me going to the hospital.
‘There’s nothing you can do. I’ll call as soon as there are any developments.’
‘But . . . what happened? Is he going to be all right?’
‘Too early to tell, love. Are you still with your friend Ollie?’
‘No. He’s gone.’
‘Then take Mojo out for a walk, take your phone with you and this time keep it switched on.’
‘But what exactly happened?’
‘He . . .Oh . . . got to go, the doctor’s come out. I’ll call later.’
She hung up. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I stared out of the window at the sea for a while. Hell, I thought. Heaven and hell. All in one day. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt numb. I didn’t want to eat. Didn’t want to drink. I flicked on the TV but couldn’t concentrate. I checked my watch. Four-thirty. Too early for MSN. I thought about phoning the girls up in London, but if I left a message then they might phone back when Mum was trying to get through. Best to leave the line free. And anyway, what could they say? Or do? Nothing. And I couldn’t call Hannah in South Africa. It would cost a fortune.
‘Come on,’ I said to Mojo. ‘Let’s go for a run.’
Mojo wagged his tail in agreement. He clearly thought it was an excellent idea.
I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and ran down to Cremyl, through the Italian gardens at Mount Edgecumbe, and then followed the footpath through the woods and along the coast. It felt good to run. It took my mind off the dark thoughts that were threatening to take over. SP Cassandra, prophetess of doom, had taken over. I could hear her moaning on in the back of my head. Woe, woe . . . Get lost, you creep, I told her. Dad’s going to be all right. I know he is. He’s going to be all right.
Mojo ran ahead of me and then back to make sure I was keeping up and then off he’d charge ahead again as we panted our way through the woods and over towards Kingsand. Once there, I ran down through the back lanes of the village and then on to the main street through into Cawsand. It was as if I couldn’t stop. The pound pound pound of my feet on the ground was stomping out bad thoughts. I ran down into the square at Cawsand then turned left on the beach area, and there at last I stopped to catch my breath. The beach was occupied by a few families still enjoying the late afternoon sun, so I scanned the area to try and find a quiet spot where I could be alone. Over to the left, there were several moored boats and behind there was an area where the beach looked stony. No one was sitting there. I made my way over and sat down on the gravel behind a large boulder.
Once I knew that I was hidden from the rest of the beach by a boat, I let the tears flow. Mojo looked at me with alarm and put his paws up on my shoulders and tried to lick my face.
I buried my face in my arms and sobbed. I hate this feeling, I thought, hate it hate it hate it. Not nice. Please, please God, let Dad be all right. The scare a few weeks ago was bad enough, but I thought he was getting better. Was this how it was going to be now that he was getting older? Scare after scare? Or was this it? The end? And Mum’s getting older. When would Mum die? Oh God. She was going to die sometime, too. On and on I sobbed. I didn’t want them to die. I didn’t want anyone I knew to die.
‘Hey,’ said a voice up to my right. ‘Are you OK? At least, I can see you’re not OK, but is there anything I can do? Anyone I get for you?’
I looked up and saw that a girl, about my age, with short dark hair, was standing by one of the boats and staring down at me. She had a sweet, pixie face,was very pretty and dressed in denim shorts and a pink T-shirt with a silver glitter star on it.
I wiped my nose and my eyes. ‘Oh God. No. Sorry. I . . . I didn’t think anyone would come over here. I . . . I thought I was safe.’
The girl came and sat down next to me. ‘You are safe here. I’ll go away if you want but . . . I can stay too if you like.’
‘Sorry . . .’was all I could say as another wave of tears rose up inside of me. ‘I . . . don’t . . . seem . . . to . . . be . . . hic . . . able to stop crying.’
The girl put her hand on my arm. ‘Hey. Don’t be sorry. Sometimes it’s good to have a good cry. I’ll let you into a secret. That’s how I know about this place. It’s my place to come and cry.’
‘Yours? But why?’
The girl shrugged. ‘Oh . . . few reasons. I used to come here when I was little with my family.’ She pointed at the families playing a distance away on the sandier side of the beach. ‘That was us. Happy families. Mum died when I was nine. So I come here partly to remember her and the times we had here when she was alive and partly to blub my head off when I want to. Don’t laugh, but I like it best when it’s really stormy, like really throwing it down and I can sit here and cry and watch the ocean and the rain and feel like the whole world is crying with me. It’s very therapeutic.’
‘Yeah. Sounds it.’
‘So what’s the matter?’
I took a deep breath and let the last sob subside. ‘My dad’s not well. He’s at the hospital and I’m scared . . . he’s . . . going . . . to die . . .’The tears started again.
‘Hey, hey,’ said the girl. ‘I understand. You don’t have to give me details if you don’t want. I know what it’s like. Like you’re raw inside.’
‘Yeah,’ I sniffed. ‘Raw and numb at the same time, and . . . I feel like every part of me is being stretched too far and it . . . it . . . sob . . . hurts.’
The girl put her arm round me and gave me a hug. ‘We all know that people die,’ she said. ‘But no one’s ever ready for it.’
‘Yeah,’ I sniffed again. Poor girl. Her mum actually had died and that only made it seem more possible that Dad might. I could feel I was going to start blubbing again.
‘Want me to leave?’ asked the girl.
‘No. Not unless you have somewhere to go.’
‘Nope. Nothing urgent. I mean, my dad could probably find me a million things to do if he wanted which is actually why I’m hiding down here. He runs the shop up in village. Have you been there?’
I shook my head. ‘No, but my mum probably has, I think. Um . . . I’m TJ by the way. Least, my friends call me that.’
‘Cool name,’ said the girl. ‘My friends call me Cat. Cat Kennedy. Short for Catherine.’
‘Suits you,’ I said. ‘You look a bit like a cat.’
Cat smiled. She seemed nice. Easy going. I was just about to say something else when my phone rang. I quickly answered it.
It was Mum.
‘TJ, love?’
‘Yes. How is he?’
‘He’s doing fine. Indigestion,’ said Mum. ‘So false alarm.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ I said. ‘So it wasn’t another stroke?’
‘No, it wasn’t. But it’s a warning, I think. He really does have to change his diet and keep off the rich food he likes so much.’
‘Are you still at the hospital?’
Yes. The doctors are doing a few more tests to be on the safe side, and of course your father is driving them all mad by telling them what to do and not letting them get on with their jobs, but . . . I guess that’s a good sign.’
‘Are they going to let him home?’
‘We’ll be back in an hour or so.’
I beamed at Cat as I clicked
my phone shut and let out a deep breath.
‘Good news?’ she asked.
‘He’s going to be OK. Oh, God. I must look a right mess. God. I’m so sorry, crying all over you. And nicking your secret place.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ she said. ‘I’m really pleased your dad’s going to be OK.’
‘Yeah. Mum said that they’ll be home in a hour or so.’
‘That’s great,’ said Cat. ‘So, I haven’t seen you down here before. Where are you from?’
‘London. North London. We’re staying at Rose Harbour Cottage . . .’
Cat nodded. ‘I know it. Oh. So your mum and dad are the doctors?’ Then she laughed. ‘Sorry. Everyone knows everyone’s business down here. Especially when your dad runs the local shop.’
‘That’s us,’ I said. ‘I’ve fallen in love with the place. I want all my mates to come down in the summer if they can as I think Dad wants to rent the cottage where we’re staying again. Hey, seeing as you’re local, you don’t happen to know a good B and B do you? Somewhere my mates could stay in case my brother and sister happen to be visiting the cottage and hogging the spare rooms.’
Yeah. I know just the place,’ said Cat. ‘My mate Mac’s mum runs one. Actually it’s his gran’s house. It’s a lovely place. Loads of space. Great views. She was really glad when they came down. His gran, that is. I think she was finding the place too big for just her. Anyway, Mac’s mum has great taste. She’s done the rooms out beautifully. Mac used to live in London, then his parents got divorced and he moved down here with his mum . . . anyway, long story. He didn’t like it at first, wanted to be back in London all the time, but he likes it now. Actually he’s in London for half-term visiting his dad. God, I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry. You asked if I knew a good B and B. Yes. Mac’s. Wouldn’t mind staying there myself. I’ll give you the number, and mine too if you like.’
‘Thanks. That would be brill.’
‘You could check it out before you go back if you want. It’s not far from Rose Cottage. God. Mac would love it if a bunch of London girls came down and stayed there. He’s always going on that there’s a lack of girls down here. He used to go out with my mate Becca for a while but they broke up. Still friends, though. But yes, if you and your mates came down, Mac would think he’d died and gone to heaven.’
‘What are the boys like here? Are there any decent ones? See, my mate Izzie is single at the moment and her horoscope said that she’d find love in the summer.’
Cat laughed. ‘Really? Hey. Maybe she’ll get it together with Mac. And then we can all be friends. But apart from him, local boys? Well, there’s a few. Mac’s cute. Not my type . . .’
‘What’s your type, then?’ I asked. After the intensity of the last hour, it felt good to be chatting about boys and normal stuff like I did back home with Izzie, Lucy and Nesta.
‘Mine? Hmmmm. I have to admit I do like good-looking boys. I know in the end it doesn’t matter, as it’s whether they’re good company or not that’s important, but I am a sucker for a handsome face.’
I laughed. ‘I know what you mean.’
‘They can be trouble, though,’ said Cat. ‘Especially the ones who know that they’re good-looking. They can mess you around.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I really liked this girl. She was so easy to talk to. ‘Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.’
‘I guess I am. Like, there’s this guy I have an on-off thing with. He’s so cute. Like sooooo cute. But good company, too. He’s dead bright. But I never know where I am with him. In fact, I’ve got a feeling that he’s seeing someone else at the moment and not telling me about it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. It’s funny because I met him here, too. Right here last summer. This very spot. He came over and chatted me up. I liked him straight away. And now well, we see each other when he’s down from school, but this half-term I’ve only seen him twice and it’s like he’s distracted so I don’t know . . . I feel like something’s going on. I think he’s two-timing me but then, because he’s at school up in London and I’m down here, it’s not as if we’ve made each other promises to be faithful, etc, etc. No point. I know what he’s like. His sister warned me that he was a Casanova. It’s just I thought that down here, well, you know . . . I thought down here that he was mine.’
Alarm bells had begun to rung when she said this boy came down from school in London. And was a Casanova.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’ I asked.
‘No way. That would really scare him off if I came over all possessive. I mean, I know this boy and he’s got severe commitment phobia.’
‘Er . . . what’s his name?’
‘Ollie,’ said Cat. ‘Ollie Axford. He’s one of the Axford family. His dad is Zac Axford. Ever heard of him?’
I felt myself wince inside. Outside, I nodded. ‘Rock star.’
‘That’s him. Really nice bloke, though. I’ve met him. I know his whole family, in fact. Lia, his sister, is one of my best mates. She goes out with Squidge, who was my boyfriend when I was younger, but we broke up and now we’re all mates. All mates together. Me, Lia, Becca, Squidge and Mac. Hey TJ . . . Are you OK? You look like you’re going to cry again.’
‘No,’ I said. Bugger bugger bugger, I was thinking. I meet this great girl. I know we could be friends, but how do I tell her that actually I’m the one who’s seeing her boyfriend. I’m the one that he’s two-timing her with. And as for Ollie Axford. I think I may have to kill him.
E-mail: Inbox (2)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: 29th May
Subject: Ollie!
My fruity little fruit fly.
Sorry it’s been a while, left my phone at Bruce’s so only just just seen your last text.
Excooth me? You were being groped in back of car by Ollie Wollie? Er . . . excooooooooth meeeeee? You can’t just leave it there. Details darlingus, details. Calling TJ Watts, calling TJ Watts, what on earth are you getting up to over there in Slutville? E-mail back tutto pronto.
Hannahlulu
E-mail: Inbox (2)
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: 31st May
Subject: Ou est tu?
Oi you! C’est moi, le grand poo.
Hasta la banana baby. Why have I bin cast so cruelly from your life?
Missing person alert. Where is u gone to my lovely? Oh I know! Mi forgeti. Tis the half termius and you wos going down to Cornwallus. Oh well. Don’t eat too many Cornish pasties . . .
Barbecue happening at Bruce’s, so got to go and do scoffie gobs.
Luvvie duvvie wotsits, spik spok soon.
Hannahlulu
PS: Bin thinking about the big quessie. The Big Boss. God. Think the lovely Lucy is right about no creation without un creator. Got to be something or someone over the rainbow and all. And I think that probably like all artists/creators, he/ she/it would probably like it if people appreciated his/her/its work. So Nesta is right, too.
Get on and enjoy it. Get down and boogie, baby. There’s so much great stuff going on to see, to hear, to feel, taste and touch so let’s get on and groove like a groovemeister and dig it, wasps and all. Olé.
PPS: I asked Bruce about God and he said that he is the Chosen One. Sad innit how all boys think that they are God.
PPPS: My mate Confucius, he say he who knows the way is wey hey hey.
XXXXX Squillion love things, and may your flobablobs be mighty!!
That evening, after meeting Cat, I didn’t even bother trying MSN. Nor did I feel like answering Hannah’s e-mails when I checked on the cottage computer. I needed to hear Izzie’s voice.
‘So why didn’t you tell her?’ asked Izzie after I’d told her what had happened.
‘Don’t know. Panic. I froze. I just couldn’t do it, Izzie. She’d been so nice to me about Dad and I didn’t want her to think that I am a rat
fink boyfriend stealer. I can’t believe it’s happening again. Last year with Luke and Nesta, and now with Cat and Ollie. She’d have hated me if I’d told her.’
‘But it wasn’t your fault, TJ,’ said Izzie. ‘You weren’t to know that he had a girlfriend down there . . .’
‘And God only knows how many up in London. No wonder he was so cool when he saw me snogging Luke before I came down here. Remember he said, “Oh well, it’s not as though we’re married”. I’ve been such an idiot. Naïve is my middle name. He even told me that one of his sub-personalities was called Casanova, so it’s not as if he didn’t let me know what he was like. I’m soooo stupid. I should have asked him if he was involved with anyone. It’s just that things felt so good between us that I presumed . . . well . . . I presumed that we were an item. Sadly Cat thought that too.’
‘Not your fault, TJ. And you mustn’t beat yourself up about it. You really mustn’t.’
‘Stupid and a coward. Cowardy cowardy custard. That’s me. A Minnie the Mouse. Part of me didn’t tell her that I knew Ollie because I’m a coward and I knew that we’re coming back to London on Saturday, and if I don’t come down here again I will never have to see her.’
‘But all week you’ve been saying that you wanted us all to come down in the summer? You, me, Lucy and Nesta hanging out down there.’
‘Changed my mind,’ I said. ‘There must be other parts of Cornwall. I’m never coming here again.’
‘But you love it down there, you told me.’
‘I know. I do. But what about Ollie and Cat . . .?’
‘Oh, TJ,’ said Izzie. ‘If you stay away from a place you like then you really are a coward. And to avoid Cat, a girl who you like? You’re mad. I bet you she’d understand if you explained it all to her. And what about Ollie? Are you going to see him again?’
‘He can take a running jump as far as I’m concerned. He’s already texted me to say that he’s on his way back up to London and is looking forward to seeing me up there. I haven’t replied, though.’
Mates, Dates and Sizzling Summers Page 11
