The Summer We Ran Away: From the author of uplifting women’s fiction and bestsellers, like The Summerhouse by the Sea, comes the best holiday read of 2020!

by Jenny Oliver

  ‘He has a website,’ Julia said. ‘He’s available for hire. Thin Air broke up, though.’

  ‘That’s not surprising,’ Amber replied.

  ‘There’s a Facebook page with a post about him holidaying in Noirmoutier. I checked Billy’s Instagram and he hasn’t updated that for a while. So I’ve found Pandora on Instagram and I’ve asked permission to follow her. She’s got a gazillion followers and I figured she wouldn’t have any idea who I was.’

  Lovejoy said, ‘And this is all to find out exactly where he is?’

  Amber felt herself bristle at Lovejoy’s involvement. ‘Course it is,’ she snapped.

  ‘Come on, Julia,’ Martin clapped his hands, acting as the peacekeeper, ‘don’t keep us in suspense!’

  Amber heard Julia’s changing room curtain open and with a voice all nervous with self-conscious worry Julia said, ‘What do you think? I’m just not sure…’

  ‘Oh swoon, swoon, swoon!’ cried Martin.

  Amber was intrigued. The black polo-neck she’d picked was too small and she couldn’t get it on over her head, so she slipped on the yellow shirt Martin had picked in order to go out and see what the fuss was about.

  Martin was in the process of buckling a brown leather belt around Julia’s surprisingly small waist and when done, he held her hair up as she stood in front of the mirror, tying a ponytail much higher than Amber had ever seen Julia wear.

  Over by the window, even Lovejoy was smiling.

  Amber could see Julia’s reflection, see her face start to split into a grin.

  Martin was pointing to her cleavage, her nipped-in waist, her elongated legs. ‘See, your best bits.’

  The stern shop owner glanced up with an appreciative nod.

  Julia looked cautiously at herself, turning from side to side, then she looked at Martin. ‘I didn’t really know I had any best bits.’

  ‘Well there you have it,’ Martin said.

  ‘It looks really good,’ Amber agreed. ‘The most un-Lexi-Warrington thing I’ve ever seen you wear.’

  Julia blushed.

  Amber was about to duck back into the changing room when Martin caught sight of her and dragged her out by the arm. ‘Come on, let’s see the yellow shirt!’

  ‘No!’ Amber tried to get away but he was surprisingly strong. She stood reluctantly in front of the mirror.

  They all stared again.

  Lovejoy did a double take.

  Martin started to say something but then seemed not to know what.

  Amber frowned at herself dressed in yellow. The shirt was silky soft and hung loose to where she was tucking it in at the front. The sleeves were too long, so she rolled them up. But it was the colour that seemed to do something to her skin and she couldn’t work out if it was good or bad. She had no make-up on and her freshly washed hair was drying in waves. She could see all her wrinkles.

  ‘I look old,’ Amber said, squinting disapprovingly at herself.

  Martin angled his head as he stared at her. ‘You do look a bit older, but not in a bad way.’

  Amber gave him a look.

  ‘I don’t know what it is,’ Martin went on. ‘You look sedate.’

  ‘These are not complimentary descriptions.’ Amber shook her head.

  Julia frowned. ‘I think you look really nice.’

  ‘Oh God,’ said Amber, starting to unbutton the shirt. ‘Old, sedate and nice. Who could ask for more?’

  Martin laughed. ‘No, she’s right, you do look really nice. Very soft.’

  Amber caught Lovejoy’s eye. He looked away.

  She went back into the changing room and stared at herself in front of the mirror. She swallowed. She gave her hair a shake, she stood again. She looked old but she also looked young. And Martin was right, she did look soft. Part of her felt that she looked too normalised, like she would fit in brilliantly on Cedar Lane now. But the other part of her didn’t hate it. It felt like what she used to wear. When she’d go to the antiques fairs with her dad dressed in multicoloured Nike high-tops and crazy print leggings. When she wore her hair in plaits or dyed it bright pink. She didn’t do anything like that now. Slowly she had lost the colour to walls of black. Like all the darkness, all the secrets, all the anger she’d held tight.

  This shirt felt like her, maybe the her she was meant to be.

  Opening the changing room curtain, she said nonchalantly, as if it meant nothing, ‘I’m going take the shirt, thank you, Martin.’

  Martin grinned. ‘You’re most welcome, Amber. You know it comes in a variety of other shades. I especially like this cobalt blue.’ He handed it to her and she took it with a smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  He reached over to the rail of jeans and said, ‘These aren’t bad either,’ and handed her a pale cropped pair.

  ‘No I draw the line at those,’ Amber said, turning her nose up.

  Martin laughed. ‘It was worth a shot.’

  All the while, Amber could feel Lovejoy over by the window watching. And to her annoyance she found she wanted him to like her in the shirt.

  Chapter Twenty

  Everyone was starving hungry. They found a table at a café next to the clothes shop and took their seats. The white plastic tables were shaded by giant orange Aperol umbrellas. Around their feet, pigeons and sparrows pecked at crumbs dropped on the floor. Lovejoy sat on the opposite side of the table to Amber. The sun was still bright but there was the veil of an afternoon haze in the air. Julia was high on the amazement of her own reflection in the clothes shop. She had looked in the mirror how she had never thought she could look – good in her own right, rather than thumbing through clothes rails trying to keep up with Lexi and co.

  She felt so good that while they were waiting for the waitress to take their orders, Julia got her phone out and was about to take a selfie for Instagram, but paused before she took it. Who was she taking it for? This was about her, no one else. She didn’t need comments and likes to tell her what she already felt.

  Instead she sent a text to Charlie updating him on what was going on.

  ‘Good luck!’ he wrote back. She wondered what he was doing. She thought how much he would enjoy this. The little tables, the carafe of water, the flickering light of the leaves on the square. He would enjoy the tensions and currents of the group, he’d find it interesting to observe. She also thought he’d quite like her dress.

  When the waitress appeared, everyone pounced to order in their hunger, Amber especially who ordered steak frites and salad while the rest of them had simple Croque Monsieur.

  Closing his menu, Martin said, ‘So what are we doing? Heading to Noirmoutier and waiting on either this Richard character or Pandora to update their social media?’

  Amber nodded, handing the waitress her menu.

  ‘And just to clarify,’ Martin went on, ‘Your van’s been impounded so are you going to have to come with us?’

  Amber nodded again and Lovejoy did an expression of reluctant agreement.

  Martin looked between the pair of them. ‘That’s going to be a fun journey.’ Then he mused for a second. ‘What if I don’t want to come? Maybe I have burning work appointments at home.’

  Lovejoy raised a brow. ‘You don’t have burning work appointments ever, Martin. And you’re so bloody nosy there’s no doubt that you want to come, but if it makes you any happier, I’ll pay you for the extra day. OK?’

  ‘It does. OK.’ Martin grinned, satisfied.

  Julia checked her phone to see if Pandora had accepted her Instagram request. Nothing.

  The shadows of the plane trees danced over the screen.

  The waitress bought the drinks.

  Over a sip of cold beer, Lovejoy said, ‘Come on then, let’s see the picture of this other dude.’

  Julia glanced at Amber, who paused for a second, then expressionless got out her phone and the image up of her and Richard Shepherd covered in mud at Glastonbury.

  It was weird seeing her in her loose yellow shirt. Her eve
ry action looked more vulnerable.

  Lovejoy took the phone and zoomed right in on the photo, scrutinising Amber’s long blonde grungy hair and Richard Shepherd’s porkpie hat and rosary. ‘What a joker,’ he said, looking up at Amber. ‘This is who you were with?’

  Amber pursed her lips. ‘Yes, Lovejoy,’ she said. ‘Got a problem with that?’

  ‘No,’ Lovejoy replied, amused and defensive in equal measure.

  Amber did a curt nod.

  Martin clicked his fingers to have a look. Lovejoy held onto the phone for a minute longer, his lip curled in distaste. His dark hooded eyes narrowing. Then he handed it over to Martin.

  Julia watched Amber watching.

  The food arrived, big plates of gooey toasted sandwiches and a huge plate of sizzling steak frites.

  Martin stole one of Amber’s chips.

  Lovejoy polished half his Croque Monsieur off in two bites, then said, ‘So how long were you with him?’ feigning disinterest, his attention focused on some activity on the other side of the square – a guy on a motorbike arguing with a ticket inspector.

  ‘Not long,’ said Amber, dunking a couple of chips into mayonnaise. ‘A month or so.’

  Lovejoy took the information in.

  Amber started to cut her steak.

  Lovejoy went back to his Croque Monsieur.

  They ate in silence for a while. Then Martin asked, ‘So what was this band he was in?’

  As she chewed, Amber said, ‘It was kind of grungy, nothing amazing but they were on tour and it was fun. I was a very good groupie.’ She smiled.

  ‘I’ll bet you were!’ said Martin. ‘I can just imagine it.’

  Amber forked some salad, then sat back. Lovejoy was watching the arguing motorcyclist with great attention. Amber said, ‘It was a funny story, actually, how we met. I was abroad buying and I’d just left a bar in the Czech Republic and was heading to the van when this real nasty bastard started coming on to me, you know grabbing me and trying to push me into this alleyway and I was terrified, to be honest.’

  Lovejoy looked back to the table.

  Amber said, ‘I had a sword in the van but I couldn’t get it—’

  Julia frowned. ‘You had a sword!’

  Amber nodded as if it were totally ordinary.

  ‘What would you have done with the sword?’ Julia asked.

  Amber shrugged. ‘Killed him probably.’

  Julia’s eyes widened.

  ‘You wouldn’t have killed him.’ Lovejoy shook his head. ‘At most you’d have stabbed him in the leg or something.’

  Amber raised a brow. ‘You don’t think I could kill someone?’

  Lovejoy’s lip tilted in a half-smile. ‘Oh I have no doubt that you could kill someone, Amber. I just don’t think you would kill someone.’ He leant forward a touch. ‘You’re not half as tough as you make out.’

  Amber narrowed her eyes. ‘I’ll kill you in a minute.’

  He smirked and went back to watching the row over the other side of the square.

  Martin took a bite of Croque Monsieur, and urged Amber to carry on, ‘So you’re running from this Czech bloke. And—’

  Amber tore her glaring eyes away from Lovejoy and went back to her steak. ‘Well then suddenly this absolutely gorgeous guy appears,’ she really put the emphasis on gorgeous. Julia glanced at Lovejoy and caught an imperceptible, incredulous shake of his head. Amber carried on, ‘and he yanks the other guy off me like a real hero and then punches him in the face. The first guy scarpers and Richard, that was who it was who’d hit him, was all shaking his hand like he’d broken it, hopping around the place in agony. Well I couldn’t help laughing. And when he’d finally got over the shock of what he’d done he said, “You’d better have a drink with me now!” and well that was that. We had a drink and fell madly in love.’ She gave Lovejoy a quick there-you-have-it look and popped a chip in her mouth.

  Lovejoy was focused on stirring his espresso. He tapped the spoon on the side of his cup, took a sip, put the cup back down, then said, all mock-confused, ‘So if it was all so bloody marvellous, how come you’re not still with him and, how come he doesn’t know about Billy?’

  Amber seemed caught off guard by the observation. As if she hadn’t thought ahead in her storytelling.

  ‘Are we to presume he found a better groupie?’ Lovejoy said dryly, sipping the rest of his tiny coffee.

  ‘Oh piss off,’ said Amber, wiping her hands on her napkin and downing her own espresso.

  The bill came. Amber said, ‘I’ll get this.’

  ‘No I will,’ said Lovejoy, whipping his wallet out.

  ‘No I will!’ said Amber firmly.

  ‘Why don’t you split it?’ said Martin, calmly.

  Amber and Lovejoy threw in equal amounts of euros and they all stood up.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Julia as they walked across the square, then immediately put her head down, concentrating on her phone when she saw the officer who had arrested Amber was on the steps of the police station, having a smoke.

  It was a sudden stark reminder of her fake passport alter ego and lies to the police. The new dress suddenly felt like a disguise to escape capture.

  Amber glared at the police officer leaning against the handrail, perusing the gang as they passed. ‘I can’t believe he’s got my sodding van,’ she muttered. ‘That’s all my Emerald House stuff.’

  ‘So it is,’ mused Lovejoy.

  The policeman lifted his hand in an amused wave as they passed. Julia felt Amber bristle. She felt his eyes following them. Felt her nerves start to simmer.

  Then just as they were almost out of sight, Julia heard him shout, ‘Madame! In the red.’

  She stopped up short. Her breath caught. She turned. Pointed to herself.

  The officer nodded, flicking the fag butt away, ripping open a pack of gum like he had all the time in the world.

  The others stopped walking. ‘What does he want?’ Julia asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Amber said.

  The officer beckoned for her to come over.

  Julia was sweating now. Her heart thumping around like a crazed bull. She was going to jail for passport fraud. Holy shit. ‘Remember the passport, Amber? Should you come too?’

  Amber exhaled, as if she couldn’t handle another problem. ‘I think that would be suspicious. Why would I go anywhere near him? You should just go casually and see what he wants. It’ll be nothing,’ she said, trying but failing to sound reassuring.

  Martin crossed his arms. ‘Go on. It’s never good to keep the police waiting.’

  Julia wanted to ring Charlie. But no, she was on her own.

  She walked back across the road trying to ignore her shaky legs. The officer watched her with bright blue eyes. She had visions of her parents hiring the best lawyers for the court case, not quite able to fathom why she’d done what she’d done. Or on the other hand, not done it slightly better and got away with it.

  She imagined the glee with which Lexi, Alicia and Nicky would discuss the news on their spin-off, Cedar Lane Blondes, WhatsApp group.

  The officer chewed his gum.

  Julia stopped in front of him. ‘Oui?’ she said, voice a touch higher than normal.

  She saw him glance down at her shaking hand. She moved it behind her back.

  He smiled, taking his time, enjoying himself.

  Julia was on the cusp of confessing. Anything to lessen her sentence. She was not someone who played it cool. She was the good one. The one who was never late at school, who never missed a deadline. She would be hopeless in jail.

  The officer glanced briefly behind her at Amber, then, on a lazy chew of his gum, said, ‘If you want, you can get the van out.’

  Julia felt her brows raise to the middle of her forehead. ‘I’m sorry?’

  He chewed, long and slow. ‘The van. Her van,’ he pointed at Amber, ‘You – not her – can get it out, if you can drive.’

  ‘I can drive,’ said Julia.

  He shrugged like th
ere you go.

  She felt a smile spread through her.

  He made a face like he wasn’t all bad-guy.

  An overwhelming euphoria rose up through Julia’s body – she wasn’t going to jail. She could get the van out. It would all work out OK. Then she realised that this man thought she was someone else. She was the woman in the fake passport. She couldn’t get the van out because Christine Miller didn’t have a driver’s licence. Julia paused. Christine Miller probably did have a driver’s licence somewhere in Amber’s bag but it would mean Julia having to imitate her once again under the terrifying eyes of the law.

  The officer said, ‘You can thank me, if you like.’

  Julia nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said. Distracted. Then she repeated it, snapping back to attention, remembering who she was talking to, ‘Thank you.’ Then she turned and hurried back to where Amber was standing, watching.

  ‘Well?’ said Amber.

  Julia said, ‘He says I can get the van out.’

  ‘No way!’ Amber laughed, she clapped her hands together.

  ‘But, Amber, he thinks I’m Christine Miller.’

  Amber stopped clapping. ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Lovejoy asked.

  Amber reluctantly explained.

  ‘Oh Jesus, Amber,’ Lovejoy exhaled, expression like she was a walking disaster.

  Julia felt he was definitely enjoying being on his high horse. Using the situation to vent his own annoyance at Amber. So she jumped in and said, ‘I can do it. I don’t mind.’

  Lovejoy scoffed. ‘Do you know the penalty for passport fraud?’

  Julia shook her head.

  ‘Well neither do I,’ said Lovejoy, ‘but it’s not going to be good.’ He looked at Amber. ‘And you’d let her do it, I take it?’

  ‘No, of course I wouldn’t,’ snapped Amber, although it was questionable whether she’d have given it a shot.

  They all stood where they were. The police officer still watching.

  Julia said, ‘He’s wondering why we’re not doing anything. I don’t want him to get suspicious.’

  ‘Well someone’s got to get the van out,’ said Amber.

  Julia thought of all the antiques in the back for Emerald House, all their work.