The Last Charm: The most page-turning and emotional summer romance fiction of 2020!

by Ella Allbright

  ‘I thought he was hurting you, Jones. I heard him call you a cow, and he was trying to grab you.’

  Something about the way he uses my surname grates on me, just like it did when I was fourteen. ‘He’s my friend. We were messing around. We always do.’ He flinches and opens his mouth, but I get there first. ‘You can’t just shove people around!’ I point my finger at him, uncaring of the crowd watching our little drama. ‘You could have seriously hurt him. What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘Quite a lot, it seems.’ His lips curl back over his teeth. ‘Including sticking up for spoilt little girls.’ He holds his arms out to his sides, ‘So the next time I see someone who needs help, I won’t bother—’

  ‘Spoilt?’ I screech, staring at him. ‘Well, I didn’t need help, and I definitely don’t need yours. You have no right to just come charging in.’ My volume climbs, my face getting hotter.

  ‘Jeez, when did you turn into such a feminist?’

  I gape at him, expecting better from him than that, before realising the look in his eyes isn’t anger. It’s pain.

  ‘After all,’ he continues, ‘you were happy enough to accept my help last time.’

  He’s got me, and it puts me on the defensive. ‘W-well, I didn’t ask for it then,’ I shoot back, ‘and I’m not asking for it now.’ I put my hands on my hips. ‘Anyway, since when did you adopt a “violence solves everything” ethos? Don’t be like your dad and go—’

  ‘What?’ His mouth drops open, wounded, before rallying. ‘I was just trying to protect you. We’re friends.’

  That stings. ‘No, Jake. We were friends once. And barely that. Then you left.’

  His jaw tenses, a pulse beating. ‘If that’s how you feel, fine.’ Spinning around, he marches off through a gap in the crowd, churning up shingle along the ground as he goes.

  Eloise and Chloe appear next to me. ‘Bloody hell, Leila,’ Eloise says, eyes wide. ‘I know you’re loyal to your friends and he hurt Shaun, but you sort of lost it with him.’

  Chloe nods in agreement, ‘It’s not like you at all. You okay?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ I say with a nod. As I turn to them, the anger drains away, leaving me shaking. Embarrassment fills me for losing control, especially so publicly. They’ve never seen this side of me. Dad would be so disappointed. We thought I’d left my temper behind when we moved back to the south coast.

  I simmer with resentment at Jake for bringing back memories of emotions past. Yet he didn’t deserve what I said, and I really shouldn’t have made that comment about his dad. I cringe. Then I burst into tears.

  ***

  Nearly two hours later I’m propped against Chloe, my head resting on her shoulder as we listen to ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ by Oasis. She’s smiling as she watches Simon and Jonny pretend to strum guitars in front of the fire, miming the way Liam Gallagher sings with his mouth practically kissing the microphone.

  I’ve calmed down and the atmosphere is muted now, not many of us left at the beauty spot. I hate ugly scenes, and it’s soured the evening. I wanted to go home straight afterwards, but Eloise couldn’t get any signal to call Max, and I could see my friends enjoying themselves, so I wiped the tears away and pretended I was fine. And I am – or at least I will be. I can’t understand why Jake behaved like that, or why my reaction was so strong. I overheard Eloise muttering to Chloe that in a way it was sweet he was trying to protect me, but I disagree. I’m not his to protect. Still, I wonder if he’s okay after our disagreement, and regret causes my stomach to churn.

  My attention turns towards the water, and the stone arch of the Door. There’s a dark figure on top of the high rocky outcrop. It disappears and then I hear a splash. Scouring the sea for a swimmer in the fading light, I see nothing. For a moment I turn away as Eloise waves at me, holding out a can of beer, but I shake my head. Michelle glances at me from beside Shaun and mouths okay? so I nod and give her a double thumbs up.

  I turn back to the sea, scanning it again for a swimmer, and then the shoreline for someone getting out. Nothing. Maybe I imagined it. But I feel uneasy. I uncurl my legs, pushing myself off the ground and moving away from the fire. It goes unnoticed as someone turns the volume to maximum and everyone stands up to sing together, voices raised as they throw their arms around each other’s waists and shoulders, shouting out about how Sally can wait, and that she knows it’s too late.

  Striding with effort over the multi-coloured pebbles to the water’s edge, I can’t get rid of the feeling that someone was— There! Squinting in the half-light, I spot a small dot in the sea at the bottom of the arch, and moments later, a pair of flailing arms. They look like they’re clawing at the sky. Whoever it is, they’re in trouble. Casting a look over my shoulder, I see everyone’s occupied, noisily singing, their heads thrown back. They don’t realise that a drama is unfolding only a dozen feet away, silent and unseen.

  ‘Hey!’ I shout, turning to the crowd and trying to get someone’s attention. ‘Hey, there’s someone in trouble!’ But they can’t hear. As I hesitate, I notice the arms sink beneath the glassy surface of the sea and realise I haven’t got time. I’ve wasted too much already.

  If nothing else, I’m a good swimmer – one of the few skills Mum instilled in me before she disappeared. My instincts take over. Taking deep breaths, I wade into the water, ignoring the slight chill. The sea hasn’t had the whole summer to warm up yet. As soon as it’s deep enough, I dive in, my arms arching over and alternating in firm, precise strokes. Hang on, I think hazily, just wait for me.

  It takes for ever but at the same time feels like only an instant, and then my left hand’s connecting with a struggling body, and I’m grabbing an arm and heaving them to the surface, both of us gasping for breath. Their fight for survival is making it hard for me to get a grip.

  ‘Stop it!’ I order, briny water filling my mouth. Turning my head, I spit it out. Salty water is splashing in my face and stinging my eyes. I can hardly see. I try hooking my right arm around their chest so I can get them to lie on their back and tow them in, but they – he, I realise from the width of his shoulders and shape of his skull – is dipping down below the water again. He can’t kick properly for some reason. There’s a current beneath us trying to pull us out to dangerous depths, but I resist it. Not today, I think fiercely, and not like this.

  Yanking him back up to the surface, I calm myself down, inhaling deeply to make sure I have enough air in my lungs to keep us both afloat. ‘Stop moving. Relax!’ I bellow in his ear through a mop of dark hair, trying to get through to him. ‘It’s okay. I’ve got you.’

  Thankfully he quietens, and I hook my arm around under his armpit across to his opposite shoulder so he’s floating in front of me, both of us on our backs. I draw him closer, noticing his right leg is dead straight, toes curled over tight. His chest is solid and broad beneath my hand, and I try to ignore the feeling of my boobs squashed against his back, working on keeping our lower bodies apart so our legs don’t tangle. Apart from the play-fighting with Shaun, this is the closest I’ve ever been to a guy. Nearly sweet sixteen and never been kissed, I think regretfully.

  Shaking off the thought, I set out for the beach in a slow but steady back-crawl, using my left arm, tilting my head back in the sea, and gazing up at the darkened sky as I swim. My long, pale hair floats to the top of the water, fanning out around our heads. The only sounds audible with my ears beneath the surface are the stones shifting against each other, as if in a sigh. Night’s fallen during the last few minutes, and sparkling stars have appeared in the velvet sky. It looks like there are a thousand at least, twinkling and saying hello. Telling us they’re here and that they see us too.

  There’s something magical about the moment despite the circumstances, and I can’t help but take in the view. The starry sky stretches above us, no end in sight. It’s like this boy and I are the only two people in the world. There’s just us, in the water. Everyone else has faded away and been forgotten. But strangely that’s oka
y. It’s comfortable. Right.

  The moment lingers. ‘Beautiful,’ I whisper, tilting my head to see more stars.

  ‘Yeah’ echoes back, and I know I’ve spoken in his ear again.

  ‘Jake!’ I recognise his voice, and for a brief pause I stop swimming. Even though I’m in chilly water, the warmth of embarrassment creeps over my skin. I wince. This isn’t how I’d imagined seeing him again, especially after earlier. Talk about awkward.

  He doesn’t reply, but I hear him mutter shit under his breath as I resume swimming.

  Before I’m ready for it, I feel smooth hard points beneath my legs and realise I’ve swum us all the way to shore with barely any effort. Planting my feet on the bottom, I stand up, helping him wade in. The water comes up to my hips and his thighs. It’s so dark, the night air is like a blanket, and the fire is too far away to let me see his expression.

  Bending over at the waist, he coughs a few times and inhales sharply before stumbling to the water’s edge. I follow him, hovering uncertainly and watching as he collapses in a heap, straightening his leg out before grabbing his foot and pulling his toes up toward his body. Muttering some swear words under his breath that would make even Grandad with his Navy background flinch, he massages the arch of his foot with a groan. The longer he works on it, the more it returns to its normal shape. His thick black hair is plastered to his head, and he rakes both hands through it, leaving it stuck up in damp tufts. At last, he looks up at me. One of the clouds covering the moon passes, and it shines down on us, painting his face a ghostly white.

  ‘Jake,’ I whisper hesitantly. ‘Are you okay?’ Given how I just helped him, he doesn’t look pleased to see me. ‘Are you hurt? What happened? That was scary.’ For both of us, I add silently. Not to mention unsettling. I close my eyes, blushing. I was right up against him, our bodies touching. There’s a weird feeling in my stomach, but I don’t like him in that way.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he says through gritted teeth, as I open my eyes, ‘stop fussing.’

  ‘S-sorry,’ I stutter in a high voice, too shocked to say anything else.

  Stepping away, I shiver in the night air. My white T-shirt’s soaked and sticking to my body. Pulling it away from my swimsuit helps a little, but not much. I need a towel and some dry clothes. Glancing along the beach, I notice everyone’s still singing, their choral voices soaring. For all intents and purposes, Jake and I might as well be alone together on the beach in the shadow of Durdle Door. It’s weird – only ten minutes have passed since I realised someone was in trouble and dove in after them, but I feel like I’ve aged ten years. Like the girl who came out of the sea is a different one to the girl who went in. Maybe that’s what happens when you save a life – you change your own.

  The thought makes me cross. I did a good thing, so why’s Jake being like this? Why’s he acting like I tried to drown him, rather than help him? He could have easily been swept out by the current that tried to steal us away. ‘You know, you could at least say thank you,’ I hurl at him, teeth chattering. ‘Without me, you’d have been in real trouble.’

  He pushes himself off the ground, avoiding my eyes. ‘No, I wouldn’t. I didn’t need any help. I’d have been fine as soon as I got rid of the cramp.’ Shrugging his broad shoulders, he bunches up fistfuls of his black swimming shorts, squeezing out the water.

  ‘That’s rubbish! You were sinking fast, and the current was strong. You would’ve been gone before anyone knew it. And what were you doing jumping off the top of the Door anyway? It’s practically suicide. Have you got a death wish?’

  ‘No.’ His voice turns cold, the new depth in it making him sound like a man. Then I realise he must be almost eighteen so he is practically a man. ‘I just thought it would be a cool thing to do. Owen dared me. You sound like my mum,’ he drawls, in a bored tone, ‘and I don’t need another one of those. Thanks, though.’

  I glare at him. ‘I thought I was too hard on you earlier – I felt bad about it actually – but you are so rude, and an idiot too if you think a dare is worth risking your life for!’

  ‘If you say so.’

  The final cloud drifts away and the moon shines its cool light more brightly on his face. The planes are smooth and hard, but there’s still some softness around his chin. The scar leading down into his top lip seems fainter than it used to. His eyes glint as they look me up and down.

  Hugging my arms around my middle, the breeze drifting across the beach makes me shiver again. Suddenly I’m cold and tired, longing for a hot shower and my bed. There’s salt drying in crusty zig-zags along my skin and my hair is dripping cool water down my spine. Shaking my head, I stare at him. I want to go home. I’m done with this. ‘Whatever,’ I reply, swinging around to leave. ‘If you’re not even going to say thank you … or apologise for earlier … See you around.’

  ‘Me, apologise?’ His voice makes me jolt. ‘You were the one who said we’re not friends.’

  ‘We’re not,’ I flash. He didn’t stay in touch, so how can we be friends? Well, I’m not spelling it out for him.

  ‘So why did you help then? And why bawl me out for saving you earlier, but think that it’s okay to do the same for me? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?’

  Turning, I gaze at him, pulling the hem of my T-shirt down. ‘I didn’t know who I was saving at the time, did I?’ As soon as it leaves my mouth, I realise how awful it sounds. That if I’d known it was him, I’d have left him there to drown. I rush on. ‘And maybe it does make me a hypocrite, but all I knew was someone was in trouble, and no one else had realised. I didn’t have a choice; I had to help.’

  ‘There’s always a choice.’

  ‘Not for me. What was I supposed to do, let someone drown?’ He opens his mouth, but I keep talking. ‘Anyway, now I know it’s you, I’m glad. Now you can consider us even.’ They feel right, those last few sentences on my lips, the shape and sound of them. I’ve just very probably saved his life, and when he took the blame for me that day at school, he unknowingly saved mine. Our school, my friends, the stability I’ve had with Dad and Grandad over the last few years, saved me. No more running away, no more losing control of my rage and frustration, no more silly decisions with disastrous consequences. I feel the skin on my lower back itch despite my drenched T-shirt, and wish for the hundredth time I’d been left unmarked by that night. Not just physically, but mentally too.

  ‘We’re not even. We don’t need to be. You don’t owe me anything,’ Jake snaps. ‘I used you.’

  ‘Used me how?’ The moon is swallowed up by another cloud and his face flickers back into darkness. ‘Jake?’ I demand, stepping forward.

  ‘I wanted out of there,’ he says. ‘Getting expelled from school was how I was going to do it. Mum was in on it. Luckily for me, it worked.’

  ‘So, you took the blame as part of some grand plan? I could have been anyone?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sounds so cocky, and I don’t like it. ‘I don’t believe you.’ I yank my T-shirt off over my head, hoping the breeze will take the dampness from my bare skin and help dry out my swimsuit. ‘I just don’t. That day at school, you made that weird comment about how you met me before you met me. It meant something; it was personal. And later, you brought Pandora back with the book charm.’

  ‘You remember what I said?’

  ‘Of course. So, what did you mean?’

  He sighs. ‘Is there any chance you’re going to let this drop?’

  ‘No. Plus, if you don’t explain it to me, I’m going to tell everyone I had to fish you out of the sea. That wouldn’t do your bad-boy image much good, would it?’

  ‘That’s blackmail.’ The northern edge in his voice sharpens.

  I shrug, waiting.

  At my silence, he huffs. ‘Fine. Yes. The day we first met—’

  ‘The day you moved into my old house,’ I murmur, still able to recall how furious I was at Mum for leaving, holding her responsible for us selling up and leaving town, and all my friends, behind.
‘What about it?’ I prompt, embarrassed to remember how resentful I was of the new family moving into my house. ‘Come on.’

  ‘I was out front, and you were in your dad’s van. We spoke—’

  ‘Yes. I was worried about you.’

  ‘You were?’ An odd note creeps into his voice.

  ‘Yeah,’ I admit. ‘I watched you and your dad. I didn’t like what I saw. I thought he was scary.’ It makes me feel bad all over again about the comment I made earlier when we argued. Sure, Jake grabbed Shaun, but he didn’t beat him to a pulp or enjoy the scene the way I suspect his dad would have.

  ‘I know.’ He sighs, clearing his throat. ‘Well, before that conversation, I’d been in the house for the first time. Dad had put me in your old bedroom; he thought that was funny because it was pink. But when I went upstairs and saw the paintings of all the doors on the walls, and how many worlds you’d imagined stepping into … it made me feel hope. Not something I was used to. I also discovered what was under the bed. I saw what you’d created there. It was like a magical place I could e-escape to …’ He stumbles over his words. ‘I felt like I was walking in your footsteps. It made me feel like I already knew you.’

  There’s so much pain in his voice when he talks about escaping that I daren’t ask any more questions. But, God … Squirming, I recall the picture he’s talking about, the one under the bed. I think of the fairy who was based on me, with silvery hair and starry eyes, holding a magic wand and a paint brush. That piece is so deeply personal and childish. The thought of another person seeing it makes me feel a bit sick. It feels intrusive, like he’s seen parts of me he shouldn’t have. On the other hand, there’s something about his confession that touches me. He used my creation to escape a world he didn’t want to live in, just like I did after Mum left. Perhaps we’re not so different, and maybe he’s not as hard-faced and cocky as he sometimes appears.