‘Hello again,’ said a voice. It was the Greek god of a boy.
‘Hi.’ It must have been the adrenaline flooding my blood after the spoilt-brat comment, but I felt invincible. I turned up the wattage on my smile.
‘What can I get you?’
‘What do you recommend?’ I was flirting, but it felt fun. This was my holiday after all. ‘I’m after a long, cold drink.’ I said the words slow.
‘I have just the thing.’ He walked away to the bar. I picked up some breadcrumbs off the table and dropped them into the water, watching the big, gulpy mouths of the fish as they surfaced and sucked them down.
‘Try this.’ He presented a tall glass to me with a flourish. If the waiter in Alley Cats back home had done that we’d have laughed ourselves sick, but here? Here it was fine. More than fine.
‘What is it?’ It was deep purple and had a straw sticking out of it.
‘Try it. If you do not like it, it is on the house.’
I sucked on the straw. It was gorgeous. ‘Mm, delicious!’
‘You are more than welcome,’ he said, before disappearing off into the kitchen.
The drink really was wonderful. It had a hint of fizz and the colour must have come from something grapey but, as for exactly what was in it, I didn’t know and didn’t care. I sat and sipped, my head feeling lighter. By the end of the drink, I still didn’t feel like going back to face Clarisse, so I ordered another and sat drinking and watching the sun dipping in the sky.
‘Is your friend not with you today?’ asked the waiter, as he laid the table next to me, ready for the evening.
‘What? You mean my dad?’ I laughed. ‘No, he’s at work today.’
‘Well, I had guessed, but didn’t want to presume. You aren’t from round here, are you?’
And there was me thinking my French was impeccable. I grinned. ‘No, is it that obvious?’
He shrugged. ‘A lucky guess, that is all. Have you walked along the lakeside yet?’
When I shook my head, he gasped in faux-shock, making me laugh again.
‘A travesty. You must see it. It is gorgeous. Peut-être, on my next day off, you would allow me to show you our fabulous lake?’
My stomach flipped. This was more than just waiter/customer banter now, right?
‘My name’s Pierre, by the way.’
‘Sasha.’
‘Enchanté, Sasha.’
I paused for a moment, before saying, ‘OK, sure.’ Why not? He might be a couple of years older than me, but that was nothing compared to Dad and Clarisse. ‘I’d like that.’
Chapter 8
Nell
It had taken me two days to build up the courage to walk past the deli again. And another two days after that in order to stop in front of the window. The advert was still there. I was desperate for the job but also wished the advert would disappear so that I didn’t have to try. In total, I walked past the deli twelve times and stopped twice. The food in the window looked fabulous. The pork pies and pasties, which must have been made in store, always got me right in the nostrils.
I bet if I went in now, he wouldn’t even remember me. Bet I was just one in a blur of customers. Bet I was over-thinking it, that there wasn’t really anything to be embarrassed about, that if only I could open the door, walk in and say, ‘I’ve come about the job,’ all my worries would evaporate. I put my hand out to push the door open, but changed my mind at the last moment and walked away down the street. Stupid. Stupid. Why couldn’t I do this? It seemed every time I tried, my mind rebelled, or was it my body? I was going to have a life crammed with regrets at this rate, never mind a summer. I’d already crashed and burned. Still here to cringe another day. I was going to do it. I was going to do it right now.
I made an old lady jump as I spun round and marched back up the hill. I was going to do this. And it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t get the job. At least I would have tried. It would be one less regret in my sea of regrets.
I pushed the door hard, the bell jangling. It was mid-afternoon, the early morning and lunchtime rushes were over and the shop was empty, apart from the woman I’d seen last time, who was busy wiping down the metal surfaces. There was loud music playing. She didn’t look up. She seemed to be dancing and … singing?
‘Hi,’ I said loudly. We were the only two people in the shop. It wouldn’t get much better than this. It was now or never.
‘Oh, sorry love, didn’t hear you come in,’ she said, turning the music down. ‘But you can’t listen to Aretha quietly, can you?’
I must have looked confused.
‘Aretha Franklin? Greatest singer of all time?’ She looked at me expectantly. ‘Never mind. What can I get you?’
‘I’ve come about the job?’ I said. ‘The one in the window.’
The woman beamed and wiped her hands on the cloth. ‘Great! So, tell me a bit about yourself.’
It was like I’d been plunged into a vat of dry ice. If I’d been tapped with a hammer I’d have shattered.
The woman smiled at me encouragingly.
‘Um,’ I said. I wouldn’t employ me. A kid who forgets how to speak. Making informal chit-chat with the customers is a vital part of the job. Come on, you idiot. Just say something. Anything.
‘How about start with your name?’ said the woman.
‘Sorry. Yes. Of course. My name. It’s Nell. Nell Cooper.’
You could have wrung me out I was sweating so badly.
‘Hi, Nell,’ said the woman. ‘I’m Wendy. If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?’
‘Sixteen.’
‘And why do you want to work in my little deli?’
‘Well. Um.’ Why did I want to work here? I wanted to get out of the house, get some money and this was the first job I’d seen. I wasn’t too sure that was what Wendy wanted to hear.
‘Your deli always smells fantastic,’ I said. What? I want to work here because it smells nice? Dig a hole and bury me now.
I was totally expecting her to say thanks but no thanks, or I’ll keep you in mind, or something else that basically meant get out of my shop, you deluded individual.
‘OK. The hours are quite flexible. There will always be someone else working with you and you get to take home any food that’s left over at the end of the day.’
Eh, what?
‘Have you got any questions?’
Yes. About a billion.
‘Are you offering me the job?’
‘Yes.’
‘Cool.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘Thanks,’ I said finally. ‘When do I start?’
‘How about tomorrow? You need to be here for seven. We bake a lot of our own bread and pasties, and there’s quite a rush of people collecting lunchtime sandwiches on their way to work, so it’s an early start. But you should be all done by two.’
‘Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then?’
‘Tomorrow.’
I pulled open the shop door and stepped outside, the air cool on my face. I felt like I was floating. I’d done it. I’d been in and asked and I’d got the job. For a split second I had a feeling of pure joy. A grin spread across my face. I should have asked about pay, and what days I was going to work and what I was expected to do, and wear.
The joy was souring, like yellow paint with a blob of black dripped in. What was I going to wear? And what would Mum say? I’d got a job. I’d not even told her I was thinking about one. Surely she would be pleased? Most parents are pleased when their teenagers get jobs. But Mum wasn’t most parents.
Over tea that night, I couldn’t swallow my food properly. It kept getting stuck in my throat and I was having to sip water with every mouthful to get the stuff down.
Dad was busy talking about the price of fish. Literally. He’s a fish merchant, so that’s pretty much all he talks about and all he smells of.
‘I can’t believe the price of fresh crab this last week,’ he was saying. ‘There must be a big posh do coming up in Salcombe because you can’t
get decent fresh crab for love nor money.’
Why anyone would offer love in exchange for fresh crab, or any crustacean for that matter, I had no idea. I kept shovelling my food. Mum watched what I ate closely. She’d heard that eating healthily can improve the outcome for amputees, but I suspected it didn’t make much difference a year on. Still, like a lot of things, she couldn’t let it go.
As a blob of chicken curry and rice scratched down my throat, I realised that this was my best chance to tell them about the job. Dad might be a helpful ally.
‘I’ve got some good news.’ I might as well give it my best shot. I smiled, stretching my face to try and look happy.
‘Really?’ said Dad.
‘I’ve got a job.’
I kept smiling but inside I was screaming: brace, brace, brace.
‘That’s brilliant,’ said Dad. ‘Congratulations! I got a job when I was about your age and it was the best thing I could have done. Great fun and loads of experience.’
‘But Ted,’ said Mum, lowering her voice, as if there was something wrong with my hearing. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea for Nell? You know. Because of everything.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Dad. ‘I think it’s great. So, Nell, what’s the job?’
‘It’s serving at the deli in town. I start tomorrow.’
Mum was panicking but trying to hide it. Only she’s crap at hiding it.
‘The deli? What? With meat-cutting machines and raw meat and strangers coming into the shop all the time?’
‘You mean customers, Mum?’ I said.
‘They’re people you don’t know, Nell, so strangers. They could follow you home after work. There’s some really odd people around, you know.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘And don’t you look like that – you can’t just go out and get a job without checking with us first. We have to know it’s safe for you. The brain isn’t mature till your early twenties. Who knows what sort of shop this is. Ted, back me up here.’
Dad looked trapped. Cornered, as ever, between us.
I pushed back my chair. ‘It’s alright. I don’t need your permission, either of you. I was only telling you. I’ve got a job at the deli and I start work tomorrow. And there’s nothing you can do or say that’s going to change that.’
I turned and stomped out of the kitchen, slamming the door hard behind me, making all the pictures jiggle on the wall. Things were going to be awkward at home but I didn’t care – I’d be out. At work.
Chapter 9
Hetal
On the second morning Team Cobalt were scheduled for a practical chemistry session. Fortunately, Maddy was on my team too, so we automatically became lab partners. We were testing the pH of a range of substances. As we racked up our test tubes and got out bottles of indicator solution and litmus paper, I made a list of the things we were testing. Some were going to be tricky because they were in solid form. Ideally, to test, the substance should be a liquid. I jotted down some ideas for how we could solve this.
Maddy and I worked hard, dissolving, testing and repeat-testing samples to check our accuracy. Most results were what we predicted, but one substance didn’t behave in the way we expected. It didn’t help that it was a blind test and neither me nor Maddy recognised the substance. We’d decided to dissolve it with water and test, but that gave different results from when we put indicator solution directly onto some of the substance in a test tube. We tested and retested. There was only one thing it could mean. It was reacting in some way to the water.
‘Let’s test it one last time before we let the session leader know,’ I said. We worked at re-dissolving and testing again. As we waited for our results, the boy at the bench next to us got very excited.
‘Hey, over here!’ he called to the leader.
The man in the white lab coat at the front walked over to his bench.
‘I reckon this one’s different,’ said the boy. ‘I get different results if I dissolve it in water.’
The leader chuckled. ‘Well done, Finn, good work. You’ve found my deliberate mistake. I was wondering who would spot it.’
We found it too, I wanted to say. And we’ve triple-checked it. But I didn’t. I should have called out earlier. But it wasn’t good science to guess before thoroughly testing. Maddy and I wrote up our results, ready to finish the experiment the following day.
That evening Josh, the camp leader, stood up while we were finishing our meal. He tinged his glass for silence.
‘I hope you’ve all had a good day today. And I hope those in the chemical testing session this morning have managed to get the smell of rotten eggs out of their hair.’
There was some laughing from a group on the far side of the dining area.
‘So now you’ve all had a chance to settle in, we thought we’d start our daily awards, which all add towards the awards given at the end of camp, and are worthy of going on your CVs and being stuck to the fridge.’
More laughing. I didn’t laugh, though. Awards aren’t things to joke about.
‘The daily award goes to someone who has done something outstanding that day, something that has impressed a member of the camp faculty.’
The room was silent. Which was hardly surprising. Science types like to know the criteria they are being tested on. It’s like the reassurance of a tick-box list. But this seemed wishy-washy. How did you manage to do something ‘outstanding’? Everyone here was the best in their geographical area. I’d done some investigating and I was the only person here from the whole of Devon.
‘To kick things off, today’s award, for spotting the anomaly in the pH testing, goes to Finn Gilbertson.’
I glanced over to Maddy. That was the guy who had tested once and called out on a hunch and got lucky. I watched as Finn left his friends and walked to the front while everyone applauded. I clapped. But only a bit. Perhaps at 30 per cent.
He was given a small star mounted on a tiny stand. Finn held it above his head in a fake celebration. My stomach churned. That should have been us. We’d found the same anomaly. It should have been me. And tomorrow it would be.
I stared hard at Finn as he walked past. He caught my eye and winked, before grinning and going back to his mates.
This game was on.
The next day, every session I was in, I shot my hand up. Question after question I got right. What’s the chemical symbol for sodium carbonate? How do iron and sulphur react? What precautions should you take? I didn’t get a single one wrong. It felt amazing.
At morning break, Maddy passed me a coffee.
‘Here, drink this. Not that you need any caffeine. You’re totally acing it this morning. What’s got into you?’
‘Nothing.’ I sipped the coffee. ‘I just thought there wasn’t any point in holding back, that’s all.’
‘You’re after the award, aren’t you?’
‘What if I am?’
‘Don’t let that Finn get to you,’ said Maddy. ‘Just because he got the results ahead of us yesterday.’
But it was getting to me. Next session was the second half of our pH testing experiment. Maddy and I got out the equipment ready. I was itching to get started. I wanted to double-check our results, then write it up well before handing it in. The leader would see that we’d done the right thing. Surely then he’d acknowledge that by giving me the award?
That evening, after the biochemistry session, Maddy and I walked along to dinner. I could hardly eat a mouthful. What if I didn’t get the award tonight? What if someone else had done something amazing in one of the other sessions? What if Finn won it again?
As Josh stood up, the room gradually quietened down. I could feel my pulse in my head.
‘I hear from everyone that’s it’s been another excellent day today.’
He paused. ‘Onto today’s award. This award has been given to someone who has answered questions and put herself forward at every opportunity, really embracing taking part and impressing the leaders with her knowledge. Today’s a
ward goes to Hetal Badesha.’
I stood up as everyone applauded.
‘Finn, could you come up and hand over the trophy to today’s winner?’
I waited next to Josh as Finn weaved his way between tables, bringing the tiny award with him. It was mine for the next twenty-four hours.
Finn handed it over and I clutched it to my chest. ‘Well done, Hetal, for putting your hand up and taking part.’
I glared at him. Josh had said ‘impressing with her knowledge’ but Finn had completely ignored that part. I’d watched fights at school and never understood why people end up punching each other. But, in that instant, I knew exactly how they felt. I wanted to use that trophy to inflict physical pain on that smarmy, know-it-all face of Finn Gilbertson.
Chapter 10
Cam
Nell had made me promise that I wouldn’t rush into anything. She said it was like Pandora’s box. Though I had no clue what that meant. It had been several days since I’d seen Phil Mirren’s photo and I couldn’t get his face out of my head. It had properly freaked me out when I’d dreamed about him, too. I couldn’t be doing that all the time. I had to make a decision one way or the other. Perhaps a little message wouldn’t hurt.
It was quiet late morning, as it usually was after the early morning rush of tradesmen getting their supplies for the day. Papa John had popped out to visit a supplier, so I had the place to myself. Or, more specifically, the computer to myself.
Summer of no Regrets Page 5
