Cold Comfort

by Isobel Hart

  *

  By the time Saturday arrived, the visit from Hardy felt like it must have been a dream. Emily was beside herself with excitement, having spent the time since she’d turned up on my doorstep at eight in the morning trying on every bikini she possessed. I didn’t know how it was possible to own so many in a country that had about three weeks of the year (if we had a good summer) actually warm enough to wear one.

  She’d been trying to determine which outfit showed her assets off to best effect. It seemed that less was more where she was concerned, despite my voiced concern that she should leave something to the imagination.

  “Don’t be such a prude,” she scolded me. “You’ll never get a boy interested in you if you dress like you normally do.” She nodded meaningfully at the dress I was wearing. It was a long white maxi dress that I loved. I’d twinned it with some flip-flops. I didn’t care what she thought of it. In fact, given what she was wearing – a dress so short I could see her crotch every time she bent over – I took it as a compliment.

  I had only one bikini, a red halterneck, but I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to put it on in front of a bunch of strangers. I’d stuffed it into my weekend bag, along with my sleep shorts and vest top, a dress for the evening and some clean clothes for the next day. “God, you piss me off,” Emily told me, as she watched me sweep my hair up into a high ponytail. “You don’t even have to try and you look stunning.”

  “You’re prettier than me,” I reassured her.

  She looked at me intently. “You really think that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, bemused. She shrugged but said nothing. She’d been slightly off with me since the bonfire, warning me not to get in her way if there were any guys she liked. I had promised her repeatedly I wouldn’t.

  “Girls, everything okay? Are you ready to go?” Mama’s voice drifted up from downstairs.

  “Yes Ma,” I replied, grabbing my bag and heading for the stairs.

  “Oh, baby, you look lovely,” she told me with a smile when she saw me. I smiled back as I took the last few steps down and hugged her. I felt terrible I was lying to her about where I was going this weekend.

  “Do you need some money for the card?” she asked. I blinked, not understanding what she meant until Emily chipped in.

  “No, Mrs Thomas, we’ve all clubbed in together to get Amanda something.” Guilt filled me again. She’d been offering me money for the birthday card for the girl whose birthday party we were supposedly attending. “We only need money for a taxi there and back is all,” Emily continued. She was a natural with the lying.

  “Oh, I could give you a lift if we’re quick,” Mama said, looking at her watch.

  “No need, Mrs T. It’s a good few miles away. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Mr Somerville. We’re happy to get a taxi.”

  “Well if you’re sure?” Mama sounded relieved.

  “We’re sure, Mama.” She kissed me again on the cheek.

  “Text me and let me know you’re okay tonight, won’t you?” she asked.

  “Of course,” I assured her. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Look after each other,” she said, a little sterner this time. “No alcohol, please.”

  “Mama, I don’t even like it.” Emily just shrugged and then turned so her back was to us as she called the taxi firm on her mobile.

  “I’m not stupid, I know there’ll be boys there,” Mama whispered to me as Emily talked to someone at the taxi company. I flushed with guilt.

  “Mama, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

  “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’re growing up. It’s normal. Just be sensible. Don’t do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. Alcohol removes your judgement. You’re a good girl – I couldn’t be any prouder of you than I already am. You’ve never given me a day of worry. Go and have some fun and don’t worry about me. I’m here if you need me, though, no matter the trouble. You can call me… anytime. Okay?”

  “Okay, Mama, thank you. I never wanted to lie to you.”

  “You didn’t. Emily did,” she said, looking over at my friend and frowning. “Have fun, sweetie, and make sure Emily doesn’t have too much.”

  I laughed. “I will,” I promised her.

  *

  As we pulled up in front of Charles’ house, Emily was nearly popping with excitement. She had texted him to let him know we were on our way, but he’d not replied. The house was yet another enormous mansion, and I wondered what we’d let ourselves in for – a repeat of Clarissa’s? The driveway, like last time, was filled with expensive cars. I hadn’t been certain who else, other than Charles and Hardy, would be here; Charles had suggested it would be a small gathering. It seemed, however, his idea of a small gathering was a little different than my own. I hugged my trusty guitar to my chest, with my weekend bag over my shoulder, and walked to the front door. It opened before I’d even reached for the bell.

  “You’re here.” Charles grinned at me. “Come in, come in, let me take those,” he said, reaching for my guitar and bag.

  “Hi,” Emily said brightly as she shouldered past me and handed Charles her own oversized bag.

  “Emily, how are you?” he asked politely.

  “I’m good, Charles,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes, “I’m really good. You have a nice house.” She looked around at the grand hallway we were stood within. It was about double the size of our sitting room at the cottage, and bordered with fancy French furniture with spindly legs, topped with antique vases. I clutched my guitar closer, afraid I’d bump into something.

  He just shrugged. “Everyone else is down by the pool. Let’s dump your stuff in your room and then I’ll take you down and introduce you.” He had already turned his back on Emily and was talking to me. I smiled back shyly and followed as he led the way upstairs. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said as he opened the doors to an enormous double room, “you’re sharing a bed. With the demand on rooms we’re a bit tight on space. I hope that’s okay?” He looked embarrassed. The room was stunning, filled with deep red velvets, complimented by warm cream tones on the walls.

  “Really, it’s fine,” I assured him. “I could have slept on a roll mat on the floor if it made life easier? I’m used to camping. I don’t want to be any bother.”

  “Well, you might have been able to, but I couldn’t,” Emily said, laughing at me. “Really, Lila, you say the silliest things. I’d be happy to share with someone else, though,” she added, her suggestive tone leaving little space for misinterpretation. Charles’ horrified expression would almost have been comical if Emily hadn’t looked so furious on seeing it.

  “Anyway,” he said, “if you’re ready we can go down to the pool house?” I shrugged, discomfited by the prospect of putting on my costume so soon. That and the fact I couldn’t swim.

  “I’m ready,” Emily said, grabbing the smallest of the three bikinis she’d brought with her. I grabbed my one and only.

  My eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t bring a towel.”

  “We have loads spare that we keep down there anyway,” Charles reassured me. He really was being an extremely hospitable host.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked.

  “South of France. We have a house down there they spend most of the summer at. Means we get to pretty much do what we want here.” He smiled and reached for my hand. I thought of what Hardy had said and chose not to take it. Instead I walked beside him, back down the stairs, through the house and out into the beautifully manicured gardens. If Elizabeth Bennett or, even better, Darcy in a dripping shirt had appeared, I wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

  As we approached the pool the noise grew. It seemed other people had arrived a lot earlier than we had. The whole area in the vicinity of the pool was littered with guys in board shorts and women in scanty costumes. They all looked a good deal older than Emily and me. I felt out of my depth. Charles must have sensed my hesitation because he grabbed at my hand again. This time, in
the grips of my insecurity, I let him. He led me around the pool to a large building, whilst I tried to ignore the stares we attracted. “There’s a changing room in there,” he said. “You’ll find clean towels in a heap inside the cupboard. I’ll save you a space,” he said as he patted a sun lounger. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Just a water,” I whispered.

  “Beer for me,” Emily piped up from beside me. I’d nearly forgotten she was there. Her eyes were dancing with excitement as she absorbed the sight of all the man candy on offer, ignoring the glares from various girls as she eyed up their men. “Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand from Charles’. She pulled me inside where we found the changing rooms and a bathroom, equipped with a shower that was better than the one we had back at the cottage. “God, I could get used to this,” Emily groaned. “Don’t fuck this up for me by being all standoffish. These guys expect a little something for their efforts,” she warned. She laced up her bikini, what there was of it, while I worried about her words. Would they expect something from me just for coming here? I hoped not. I was glad Ma had said I could call her anytime if I needed to. “Don’t just stand there,” she barked at me. “Get your bikini on.” She set about fluffing her long blonde hair, so that it fell in loose waves over the tops of her breasts which were barely covered by the tiny triangles of material. I hadn’t envisaged wearing a bikini so soon, not until I at least knew a few of the people’s names, so I moved slowly, reluctant to remove my dress.

  “You ready?” Emily asked, when I’d finally tied the top and adjusted it so that I was well covered. I nodded. “Come on then,” she said, stuffing our clothes into the bag and leading the way back out into the bright sunshine.

  “Delilah,” Charles called the moment we emerged, “over here.” I felt a number of women, including Emily, look at me and scowl as they heard him call my name. I was just grateful to have someone I vaguely knew to head for. I walked towards him and saw he’d already got some water, laid a towel out on a sunbed for me and positioned it underneath a parasol, right next to his own. “Got to keep that beautiful pale skin of yours from burning,” he said with a smile.

  “What about me, Charles?” Emily whined in a baby voice. It was awful, and I was embarrassed to see Charles cringe.

  “Oh, sorry. Yes, um, you can have mine,” he said, getting up from his bed. “Your beer is on the table.” We both turned and looked over to where her beer was sitting in the sun, condensation pooling around the base.

  “Never mind.” Emily scowled again and threw down the bag. “Look after my stuff.” With that she strutted over to the edge of the pool before wading thigh-deep into the shallows where she stopped to cup some water. She then proceeded to pour it all over her cleavage. It was quite a display. I knew she knew exactly what she was doing. Judging by the degree of male interest she’d attracted with her little show, she’d get exactly what she wanted out of it too. I looked over at Charles, but he was staring at me as I stood there in my bikini. I blushed in the face of his open admiration… and the obvious tenting in his shorts. I’d never received any male appreciation before. At school I’d always been too tall, a bit too thin, awkward and shy. Labelled as weird for my love of music I’d faded into the background, grateful for my apparent invisibility. I didn’t know how to deal with such obvious attention, so I just blushed. Charles noticed as my gaze fell upon his crotch; he grinned at me, swiftly sitting down and pulling a towel over his lap.

  “Sit down, Delilah, before you attract all the attention your friend is so desperate to have for herself.” I frowned at his words and glanced over at Emily, who wasn’t looking my way. “You look amazing,” he said, still staring at me. “Are you really only sixteen.”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’m glad. You’re completely unsullied. I like that. Too many of these girls,” he said, looking around at the open sexuality that surrounded us, “have been around the block a lot… too many times. They’re jaded. To find something different makes a refreshing change.”

  “That’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?” I surprised myself with my challenge.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, these girls have only ‘been around the block’, as you put it, with these guys, I assume?” I said, looking at the group. He nodded. “Yourself included?” I suggested. He had the decency to colour a little. “It’s hypocritical to judge the girls as bad for doing exactly the same thing the guys have been doing. If they want to be sexually active, as long as it’s consensual, who are we to judge them?”

  “Who indeed?” he replied. He seemed surprised by my words. “And have you ever…” He didn’t finish.

  “That’s very personal information, Charles. I hardly know you.”

  “But I want to know you. I want to know you well. Really well…” He paused and leaned closer, to make the meaning of his words clear. “You’re in the sun. Have you put any lotion on?” I shook my head. It hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  “I don’t have any with me,” I worried.

  “Ah, but I do,” he said, producing a bottle from beside his chair. I reached to take it, but he pulled his hand back. “Here, let me,” he said, obviously delighted by the prospect. “Turn over,” he instructed. Once I’d complied he started to rub cream onto the top of my back. I couldn’t deny his hands felt really good as he massaged my shoulders, forcing a little moan to escape at one point. I tried to ignore the occasional brush of what I could only imagine was his erection as he leaned over me.

  “Delilah,” a voice barked as a shadow fell across me and I shivered. I turned to find Hardy standing beside me, his gaze on Charles’ hands as they massaged my back. He looked furious.

  “Hardy.” I felt the usual flush of warmth I always seemed to feel around him, despite the iciness of his glare as he took in my proximity to Charles. Charles, it seemed, wasn’t as impressed by his looming presence.

  “You’re back, Somerville. Where’s Clarissa?” The reminder of Hardy’s supposed girlfriend was like a bucket of cold water over me.

  “I don’t know, inside somewhere.” He vaguely gestured towards the house. “Where is Emily?” he asked me.

  “There,” I said, pointing at the pool, where Emily currently occupied a position on a guy’s shoulders as she wrestled with another girl who was also on shoulders. They had an audience of admiring men who, I suspected, were all hoping for a major bikini malfunction at any moment. Hardy smiled, despite himself, then turned back to me. “Can I have a minute, Delilah?” he asked, looking meaningfully at Charles.

  Charles bristled. “Now, look here, Somerville,” he started.

  “It’s okay, Charles,” I said, putting my hand up to halt his words. I stood and both men seemed momentarily silenced by the movement. Hardy’s face was the one I watched, though. His eyes swept over my body, and he swallowed before grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the pool area.

  “Hardy, slow down,” I grumbled as I tripped along in bare feet behind him. He didn’t acknowledge my words, as pig-headed as he ever was, and just headed further from the pool and the house, deeper into the grounds. He didn’t stop until we reached a small pagoda, hidden within a little walled garden. As soon as we were within the confines of the wooden building he turned to me and pinned me against the side, encased within his arms.

  “You promised me.”

  “What?” I asked, confused by his statement.

  “You promised me you wouldn’t let him touch you.”

  “I didn’t promise anything. Anyway, he was only rubbing in suntan lotion.”

  “The lotion had been absorbed ages ago. I watched him. He was caressing your skin, and you were letting him.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. He’d been rubbing it in for a couple of minutes, that’s all. Anyway,” I said, starting to get annoyed with his overreaction, “what gives you the right to tell me what I can or can’t do? I’ve done nothing I need to feel guilty about. I don’t have a boyfriend.” As if on
cue, a shrill voice called “Hardeeee”. It was Clarissa.

  “Fuck,” Hardy exploded, running his hands through his fringe, exasperated. He was more worked up than I’d imagined.

  “Hardy, calm down.”

  “I can’t fucking calm down, not when I see him with his hands on you. I can’t see anyone with their hands on you and be calm. It’s not going to happen. I can’t explain it, can’t describe it.” He’d started pacing now. I knew we had only moments before Clarissa appeared. “You looking like that, with all these fuckers around. Why did you have to come back into my life now? I was always going to come and find you when you were old enough. It’s too soon. I’m going to end up killing someone.” He was shouting, furious. I knew it would hasten Clarissa’s arrival, something I wasn’t looking forward to.

  I grabbed him on instinct and hugged him, desperate to calm him somehow, burrowing my head into him. At first he tensed as my arms went round his chest, his body rigid as I held myself against him. Then finally with a deep groan he gave up the struggle, his head came down and pressed into my neck, and I felt him breathe me in deeply. He held me tighter against him as his body sagged in relief. “I won’t let them touch me,” I promised him, not even sure why I was saying it, only knowing I needed to calm him, “not like that. Not today.”

  “Not ever,” he growled.

  “Hardy, you barely even know me. You can’t make me promise things like that.”

  “I know. I know I’m being an unreasonable prick. I’m sorry. I’m not normally like this.”

  “I know you’re not. You were always a bit bossy, but you were nice too. You looked after me when I was little.”

  He looked at me then. “That was one of my happiest childhood memories. I meant it when I said I intended to come and see you. I always intended to make something of myself so I could come and get you. So I could look after you properly. Even back then, as young as I was, I knew exactly what you would become, how much others would want you too. You were my secret. Now they’ve seen you, they’re all going to want you,” he said with a nod over his shoulder back in the direction we’d come from.