A Second Chance Summer

by Katharine E Smith

  “I haven’t seen much of him these last couple of weeks, him and Julie are full-on, aren’t they?”

  “Yes,” I say carefully, “in fact she’s gone with him to the hospice this afternoon.”

  “Really?” Sam sounds a little surprised but doesn’t say any more.

  “Yes. Have you… been to see May?”

  “Not in the hospice, no, but I’ve been round their house, I was helping Jim with some shelves he wanted to put up, and I had to help move a bed downstairs; Luke was up in London trying to sort some work stuff out before he came back here.”

  “That’s great… that you were helping, I mean.” I don’t know where to go with this conversation. It’s so sad. Possibly not the best topic to start an evening off, but that’s just selfish, I know. I look at Sam sneakily while he’s drinking. He looks just the same. Well, he doesn’t; if anything, he looks better than ever. Julie says Luke has grown into himself and I can only say the same of Sam. Except he has dark shadows under his eyes, like he’s tired. But his tan manages to conceal them unless you look closely. His dark-blond hair is still thick and wavy, and he has a fine stubble around his chin, which I’d like to rub the back of my hand against. Probably a bit of a weird thing to do, though.

  He looks back at me. “It’s good to see you,” he says.

  “You too.”

  “I can’t believe it’s been ten years.”

  “I know, it feels like nothing’s changed. Well, I’ve got a bit older, and wider…”

  “Don’t be daft! You look as great as you ever did.” His voice is soft and I am not quite sure I heard him right, but he’s looking at me earnestly.

  God, I want to kiss him. Right here, right now. I can’t. I take a big gulp of my drink. “Shall I get us another, and we can maybe grab some comfier seats?” I point towards one of the low tables by the open front of the bar, which is just being vacated by a group of lads.

  “Sure,” he says.

  “Same again?”

  “Same again.” He smiles, and walks to the table. I sit at the bar, my heart pounding furiously. I catch Andrew’s attention.

  “I’ll bring ‘em over,” he says. “We’ll sort out a tab if you’re staying.”

  “Great,” I say, thinking that I hope we’re staying. If we’ve got a tab maybe there’s more chance of us hanging on longer.

  Sam is sitting on a long, low, dark red settee, with faded seaside-designed cushions, which I am sure I remember from ten years back. He looks at me as I walk towards him and I feel self-conscious. I flop down next to him, and sink into the cushions. We both look out, towards the sea, where there are still plenty of surfers and even the odd swimmer.

  There is so much I want to ask Sam. When Andrew has brought our drinks over, I decide to jump straight in.

  “Sam,” I say.

  “Yes?”

  “David, you know, my landlord…”

  “Yes,” he says.

  “Well he said something that I’ve been wondering about. He said that you’d mentioned someone to him… a guy I knew, called Geoff.”

  I see a slight cloud cross Sam’s expression. “Yes,” he says flatly.

  “And he also said you’d had an accident.”

  “Yep, that’s right.”

  “So… I don’t know what to say, or how to ask this, really. But what happened to you? To us, I suppose. And how did you know about Geoff?”

  Sam looks long and hard at me. “I thought you must have known about the accident.”

  “Luke said the same thing, but I didn’t. How could I? I only kept in touch with you, and with Bea a bit, but she never mentioned anything.”

  “Oh. Maybe she wouldn’t have known. We don’t exactly mix in the same circles,” he smiles.

  “So what happened?” I press.

  “I don’t remember the accident itself,” he says, “all I know is, I woke up in fucking agony, in hospital, my crappy old Golf was written off, and I couldn’t remember much for weeks. I couldn’t make sense of anything. I knew Luke, I knew Auntie Lou, but I didn’t know much else. It started to come back to me, bit by bit. And the guy who crashed into me was charged with dangerous driving, the stupid fucker,” Sam growls. “Only good thing to come out of it was my compensation, though that took long enough to come.”

  “God, it sounds awful.” I can’t believe all this was going on whilst I was just back home, going to uni, completely oblivious.

  “It was, but it’s a long time ago.”

  “I had no idea, no idea. I thought…” I feel childish and selfish for even beginning to think about how I felt back then.

  “You thought I’d just decided not to bother with you?” Sam laughs humourlessly.

  “Yes, I’m sorry, I know that sounds really childish.”

  “It doesn’t. I was gutted about you. It didn’t take long for me to start remembering that side of things, but there was nothing I could do. My phone was totally wrecked. I knew where you lived, but it was miles away. I knew where you were studying, though. So I came up, when I was better, or better enough to get the train. I came up and I came to your uni. I found out when your course lectures were, and I waited outside one day but your bloke warned me off,” he said bitterly.

  “Geoff?” I exclaim but now I am not surprised. I know it makes perfect sense.

  “Yep. Geoff,” he says. “What a tool. Sorry, you’re not still with him, are you?”

  “No!” I say. “And I had no idea, no idea about any of this.” I could kick myself. Why hadn’t I tried harder to find out if Sam was OK? It was pride, I suppose. Those unanswered texts and calls. I just thought he didn’t want to know.

  “Good. He seemed like a tosser.”

  “He was.” And I find myself telling Sam the whole story; how I’d thought he was no longer interested. How Geoff had taken me out, charmed me, started to control me. I can see Sam’s face growing darker all the time.

  “He did what?” he says angrily when I tell him about Geoff cutting up a top I had because it was too ‘low-cut’ and ‘trampy’. I tell him everything I can bear to; how my parents didn’t like Geoff, and how he took me away at Christmas so I couldn’t spend it with them. The expensive presents. The shouting, the bullying, the black eye. The restraining order. The court case. Geoff killing himself.

  By the time I reach the end of the sorry, sorry story, I am crying and Sam has his arm round me. Which is what I’d been longing for, but not like this.

  “Oh my god,” he says softly, “you’ve really been through it.”

  “So have you,” I sniffle, trying to pull myself together.

  “I think yours beats mine, though, hands down.”

  “Let’s agree it’s a draw, and move on, shall we?” But I can’t help thinking of what might have been. If Sam hadn’t had his accident we could have carried on, tried that long-distance relationship which we had promised each other. I would never have got together with Geoff.

  Or if I’d seen Sam when he came to find me; it would have been before things got out of hand with Geoff. There would have been no question of carrying on seeing Geoff when I found out what had happened to Sam, that he still wanted to be with me.

  For Geoff, I feel like his fate was sealed. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. It took me a long time and many of hours of counselling to believe that, but I got there eventually. I’ve learned to be happy on my own, and in control of my own life.

  “So what did you do, when Geoff sent you away?” I ask, trying to picture a nineteen-year-old Sam returning, dejected, to Cornwall.

  “Oh, nothing, really. I still had physio to get through, and I was behind on my studies so I delayed for another year. I suppose I just spent time with the boys and pretended none of it had ever happened.”

  Andrew, who has been keeping a discreet distance, signals to Sam, asking if we want more drinks. Sam looks at me and I nod. “Please, mate,” Sam calls.

  “Well, that’s not entirely true,” he says. “There was
…”

  “… a girl?” I ask the question I’ve been dreading, even though I know I couldn’t expect Sam to have been saving himself for me all this time. He nods.

  “And you’re still with her?”

  “No!” he laughs, “God, no. I mean, sorry, that makes me sound like a total twat. She was… let’s say, high maintenance, shall we?”

  Inwardly, I’m thinking, Yes! But I try not to show it.

  “Were you together long?”

  “About three years. Which was two years too long. Three years too long, if I’m being really honest.”

  “Quite a while, then?”

  “Yeah, well it was… complicated…”

  Andrew brings our drinks over, with some bowls of olives and bread. “These were going spare,” he says, “so I’d rather you have ‘em than they get chucked away.”

  “Thank you!” I say. I’m really hungry, I realise.

  “Yeah, cheers mate,” says Sam. His arm is no longer around me, but we’ve settled in close together. It feels so right, which I know sounds horribly cheesy, but it’s the only word I can think of.

  We tuck into the snacks, and our drinks. I suddenly don’t want to talk any more about the past.

  “So you’re working now?” I say.

  “Yeah, doing Facilities at a place in Falmouth. Been studying too, though. I never quite finished my course back then, what with the accident, and Kate and everything.”

  Kate, I think to myself, squirrelling that tiny piece of knowledge away.

  “That’s great,” I say, “do you still want to get into conservation?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been volunteering for years anyway, with the RSPB and a bit of work with the Wildlife Trust. But I want to work for them, properly. Need some qualifications, though.”

  “So you don’t want to leave Cornwall anymore?”

  “No,” he laughs, “not for any longer than I have to.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I say, “I can’t bear the thought of having to leave again at the end of the summer.”

  “Do you have to?”

  I’m in the middle of trying to spear a particularly awkward olive with a cocktail stick. I look up at him. “I suppose so. I can’t see a way of earning a living here. And I’ve got my own flat at home now. And a job, well I did have.”

  Jason has told me that there’s always a job for me if I want to come back. I suppose in my heart of hearts, that’s what I see myself doing. These golden summers are all very well but I know they can’t last forever.

  “That’s a shame,” Sam says. And he leans forward and kisses me. Just like that.

  His mouth is salty, from the olives, and tastes mildly of beer. I kiss him back, and I don’t want to stop. But we are in a bar. And we are nearly thirty years old. We can’t sit snogging like teenagers.

  He looks at me, raising his eyebrows. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist any longer.”

  I smile, not quite sure what to say. We finish our drinks and settle up with Andrew, an unspoken agreement between us.

  Walking out onto the beach, the sun is setting just round the bay, casting shadows over the land and throwing splashes of colour across the sky and the sea. We hold hands as we walk, suddenly shy with each other, but we both know where we are going. We trudge along, pushing hard, determined footprints into the sand, all the way to the end of the beach, and up the steep stone steps which meet the coastal path.

  Sam helps me up the last few steps and at the top we turn back towards the beach, and the town, where we can see the sun squeeze the last few drops of life from the day, before vanishing behind the rooftops. Sam stands behind me, his arms around me and his mouth finding my neck. He kisses me and goose pimples break out all over my body. I turn and my mouth finds his, sliding easily open to allow his tongue in. Now the sun has gone, it’s slightly cooler but the heat of the day still hangs in the air and tiny insects hover around and above us, while the birds sing their evening songs to each other.

  Sam’s hands are in my hair, then one is sliding down my back, pulling my body close in towards his. He feels at once familiar and incredibly exciting. He stops for a moment, and smiles at me, his eyes on mine, then he’s pulling me back, further away from the edge of the cliffs, to a warm, mossy clearing, back from the path and surrounded by gorse. We sit down, kissing eagerly again, then his hand is inside my top, finding its way inside my bra, gently stroking then teasing my nipple. I place my hand on his warm skin, unbuttoning his shirt and seeing how his teenage body has developed into that of a man. I shiver.

  “Are you OK?” he asks, pulling back.

  “I’m fine,” I croak, and I kiss him again.

  He eases his hand out of my top. “Sorry,” he says, “I was getting a bit carried away with myself.”

  “Really, it’s fine,” I assure him.

  He kisses me. “Plenty of time for all that,” he says, and he pulls me towards him, turning me around so that I am leaning on him, and looking out to sea. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers in my ear. And although I’m disappointed that we’ve stopped just as things are getting exciting, I feel a rush of warmth. He never rushed me back then, and maybe now, given everything I’ve told him about Geoff, he’s being even more thoughtful, and cautious. I let myself relax, and I listen to him breathing. I just can’t believe I’m here, in my favourite place, with the man I’ve dreamed about all these years. He’s right, I hope; there is plenty more time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wake up happier than I have felt for a long, long time. My waking thought is, of course, Sam, and I lie in bed, the sun peeking in through the window, letting the memories of the previous evening wash over me – new waves of happiness coming again and again.

  After we’d sat for a while, we walked – along the edge of town, along all three beaches, and then into the Mainbrace for a nightcap. We left the deep stuff behind and we just chatted, and laughed. I’d almost forgotten just how funny he is. We punctuated the laughter with more kissing, ending the night outside David’s front door, in a full-on romantic clinch on the doorstep, the moonlight shining on the narrow street.

  After I’d got into bed, I’d picked up my phone to send him a message saying what a great night it had been, but he had beaten me to it…

  That was the best night. So happy you came back xxxx

  I read that message now, smile and hold the phone to my chest, then laugh at myself for being such a saddo. In the other room I can hear murmuring. I guess Luke and Julie have stayed here for a change.

  I creep to the bathroom. I don’t want to talk with Julie about the previous night while Luke is here but you can guarantee I’ll have the full inquisition as soon as she sees me.

  I go to text Sam, but think I’d better wait. I don’t know why; he’s not the type for ‘playing it cool’ but I don’t want to wake him. It is, after all, only 8.00am on a Sunday morning. As I tiptoe back to my room, I hear the church bells start up. I sigh contentedly and lie back on my bed, looking at Sam’s message again. As I do so, two, then three messages ping in.

  Casey.

  Morning Did u hav a gud nite?

  Fancy meeting up today?

  Lunch at the beach? Have S with me KCx

  She’s keen, I think, but I don’t mind. She is obviously a bit lonely, and I think it’s nice to have a ‘local’ friend – it makes me feel like I belong a bit; a pretence I’m happy to continue for as long as I can, until I have to traipse back to the World of Stationery, so far from the sea.

  Sure, let me know where you’ll be, I’ll come and meet you. I’ll bring cakes! X

  I’m feeling like celebrating, though I’m not going to tell her why. She might even know Sam; it’s that kind of small town.

  Gr8. Text ya l8r. KCx

  For now, I am going to laze in bed, reading, and pretending not to think about Sam. I close my eyes and listen to the church bells, unable to stop the smile which is stretching across my face.

  In time, I realise I must have dozed off
. I hear the door go downstairs, and then Julie’s footsteps carefully tracking their way back up to the flat.

  Here she comes, I think, and prepare myself to tell all. But she doesn’t knock on my door; instead, she goes into her room, closing her own door quietly behind her. Weird. Maybe she’s tired. I check the time; it’s nearly 11am. I need to get showered, packed for the beach, and pick up those cakes I promised. I wonder if Sophie considers herself too old for playing in the sand? I am hoping not.

  By the time I’m out of the shower, it seems that Julie has gone out. She probably shouted through to me and I didn’t hear her. Once I’m dried off, I send her a message telling her where I’ll be, and inviting her to join us – although I am not sure if Casey will approve of me bringing another friend along.

  As I press ‘send’, a message pops up from Casey:

  We’re here! Surf beach. Near that rock we met u at. KCx

  Great, I reply. See you soon x

  I’m looking forward to an afternoon at the beach. I stop at the bakery and pick up three jam doughnuts and three chocolate brownies – as well as an olive loaf, a slab of cheese, and some apples. Next stop, a seaside tat shop, as Julie calls them – where I get a couple of buckets and spades.

  My bags bang against my legs, the plastic spades gently grazing my skin, as I walk up the cobbled hill, but I have a sudden need to see a particular view, as it is a perfectly clear day, with a dazzlingly blue sky and an equally dazzling turquoise sea. I am hot and sweaty by the time I get there but it’s worth it. I reach the crest and turn my gaze slowly from left to right, surveying the town in all its unbelievable beauty, with the miles and miles of glowing, dancing water reaching far into the distance. I just love it. I love it. And my eyes focus on something moving, quickly and confidently, across the bay. A pod of dolphins, swooping and diving, egging each other on. I don’t know when I last felt this happy.