Summer of no Regrets

by Kate Mallinder

  I washed my hands and put on plastic gloves. Then I set about arranging the sausage rolls that Wendy was crimping on a baking tray before pushing them into the oven. My stomach growled. The smell of this place was just so good. Wendy reckoned I’d get immune to it after a while but it hadn’t happened yet. I still wanted to eat the displays.

  Wendy turned up the radio and started singing. The shop didn’t open till eight and the time before then was spent preparing, baking and singing.

  ‘Come on, Nell, join in,’ she said as she belted out the best of the 1980s hits.

  There was no way I could sing in front of her.

  ‘Before my time,’ I replied. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Well, if you work here long enough, you’ll soon pick them up.’ And she carried on singing.

  There was part of me that regretted not joining in. It looked fun. But there was no way. I’d only mess it up.

  ‘Wendy?’ I said, as I went to turn the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open’. I had to ask. I had no idea what I’d do if she said no. I didn’t want to let Cam down. But I didn’t want to let Wendy down either.

  ‘Yes,’ said Wendy.

  ‘I was wondering if I could have Thursday off?’

  Wendy frowned a bit. Not a lot. But a bit. And it made a pain in my insides.

  ‘How come?’ she asked. ‘It’s quite unusual to get time off in your first week, and you know Tom is away.’

  I couldn’t tell her about Cam. It wasn’t my secret to tell. I’d have to make something up.

  ‘My aunt died. It’s her funeral.’ My fingers were crossed tight behind my back. Would she believe me?

  Wendy’s face changed in an instant. ‘Oh, honey flower, why didn’t you say? Of course. I’m so sorry to hear that. Take the day off.’ And she turned back to her baking.

  The pain in my stomach didn’t go away, and it was with a funny feeling that I texted Cam later that morning in between customers.

  Me: Thursday is on – got the day off.

  Cam: Nice work. Me too.

  If this was living life with no regrets, why did it feel so bad?

  Chapter 13

  Hetal

  From the instant I woke up, I could feel it in my veins. This was no longer about a tiny star on an insignificant pedestal. This wasn’t a little skirmish. This was war. I would make Finn eat his words. I would beat him all around science camp with my knowledge.

  I jumped out of bed. Today was going to be the day I showed them all.

  Mum had always said that it wasn’t nice for girls to want to win. She’d always said that she lost every board game she played with my father, because it made him feel good. Dad laughed this off, claiming that he’d always won fair and square. And I was never sure who was telling the truth. Should I play it down maybe?

  But the thought had gone as quickly as it had come. It was the twenty-first century, for goodness sake, and it shouldn’t matter who wins, boy or girl. Just the best scientist. And that was me. I had read a study once that found girls have to do consistently better in order to achieve the same rewards as boys. I pushed the niggle to the back of my brain. I would simply have to be even better.

  I went for a run round the circuit of the camp. It was still early and most people were still in bed. I couldn’t sleep. My brain seemed to be wired awake. And studies show that physical activity boosts brain power. I wasn’t too proud to make the most of every edge I could get.

  I loaded up on berries and slow-release cereals at breakfast.

  ‘What happened to the usual sugar-fuelled Hetal?’ asked Maddy, glancing at my bowl of blueberries and porridge.

  ‘She wants to win.’ I smiled, like this was a light-hearted thing, but it was anything but. I would do more than win this. I would own it.

  The first session was chemical engineering. I concentrated hard. It was one area I didn’t feel too confident in. But I’d done some reading up on it the night before, so hopefully I was ahead of the pack.

  After answering three questions in a row, on the fourth the leader said, ‘How about giving someone else a chance, Hetal?’

  I put my hand down, my face glowing. Had I pushed it too far? Was I turning into an annoying know-it-all? No one likes that. But what if I know the answer? Should I hold back to give someone else a turn? I sat still and didn’t put my hand up again that session.

  It felt as if someone had plunged my candle into a bucket of water. The confidence I’d felt earlier had evaporated. How could I feel like I could conquer the world one minute and the next minute feel like I wanted to curl up and die? I mean, I understand the brain chemistry a bit but, seriously, science doesn’t prepare you for how that mix of chemicals feels. I wanted to go back to bed and pull the duvet over my head. It took all the strength I had to stay there. Finn was in all of my sessions and I watched as he answered question after question. Why wasn’t anyone telling him to put his hand down?

  At break, I grabbed some food and went off to sit by myself. Having not missed home for days, I now longed to be there. I pulled out my phone.

  Me: Hey guys. How’s it going? I’m surviving science camp. Bit intense tbh.

  Nell: Missing you – how long have you got left? Off with Cam tomorrow to Plymouth.

  Sasha: Geneva’s nice. Dad and gf, not so much. Bit like science camp – too intense!

  Cam: What Nell’s not telling you is that we’re stalking my birth father.

  Me: What? For real?

  Sasha: That’s major Cam – you’re doing this right, aren’t you? Like, you’ve told John and Jackie?

  Cam: There might be nothing to tell.

  Sasha: If you’re going all the way to Plymouth to see him, there’s something to tell.

  Me: Good luck anyway with it, Cam.

  I waited and waited on my phone, but no more messages came. Sasha had probably said exactly what Cam was thinking but trying to ignore. Cam does that when she’s being stubborn. You can tell her and tell her, but unless she wants to hear it, she won’t.

  Me: What are you doing with yourself in Geneva then Sasha?

  I waited some more.

  Me: Did you get that job in the end, Nell?

  Still nothing. Great. I scrolled through the photos Sasha had posted, looking at the beautiful scenery, and her gorgeous selfies. I missed her. I missed Cam and her quick humour. I missed Nell. I missed us being together for the summer. In the distance I heard the bell ring for the next session. I checked my phone one last time for messages, tipped my drink into a bush and went to the next workshop.

  I arrived a couple of minutes late and quietly pushed my way to the back of the lab. The tutor was already talking us through the experiment he’d prepared for us. I knew of the experiment, but had never done it myself.

  ‘So,’ said the tutor, ‘any questions?’

  There were a couple from the front, mainly about how to choose the best apparatus for the job, but once they had been answered, we were left to get on with it.

  I was partnered with a tall boy. I was just pulling out the stands we would need when I heard Finn.

  ‘You don’t mind swapping, do you?’ He was talking to the tall kid.

  ‘No, sure thing.’

  I turned. ‘Did you want to check with me, if I minded swapping?’

  ‘What? Did you want to work with Courtney?’ said Finn, his eyes wide, pointing to the blonde girl he’d been partnered with.

  I looked at her. She seemed to be smiling at the tall kid as if they were in on a joke. It made me feel awkward.

  ‘Well, let’s get started,’ I said. ‘We’ve already wasted a few minutes messing about swapping.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am!’ He saluted.

  He weighed out the chemicals we needed, while I measured the sulphuric acid. Why had he swapped? Didn’t he want to work with Courtney? Perhaps he was going to sabotage the experiment, making sure he got the right results and I didn’t. But we were being marked as a team.

  I looked at him sideways between the test tu
bes gripped in their stands. His face was lit by the flicker of a Bunsen burner, making his eyes sparkle. It didn’t make sense. There was no logical explanation for it. And my brain didn’t like unanswered questions. I was going to have to keep a very close eye on him. Finn was up to something.

  Chapter 14

  Cam

  The three days till Thursday dragged like a snail on a go-slow. Before I looked at the clock, I’d try and guess how many minutes had passed since I’d last looked. I was always wrong. Why did time always slow down when you wanted it to speed up?

  ‘What’s up with you?’ said Papa John on Tuesday. ‘You seem a bit distracted this week.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘My point exactly.’

  ‘Oh. It’s nothing. Just thinking, that’s all.’

  Papa John disappeared into the back room, shaking his head and muttering.

  I had to find a way to focus. I threw myself into anything that needed doing, sorting out stack after stack of products. Some had clearly been there a long time. Yellowing boxes and crispy sellotape told me that some ranges didn’t have a high turnover of stock.

  I started keeping a list of things that looked like they’d not been sold in a decade.

  ‘Papa John,’ I called, as he emerged from the back room on Wednesday. He came over.

  ‘Look at this shelf. None of this stock has moved in ages.’

  ‘How do you know?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, the products were spider-webbed to the shelf and, right at the back, I found an old mouse nest.’

  Papa John nodded. ‘OK.’

  ‘I was thinking we could stick all the old stock into a discount bucket, just to shift it, then we could use this shelf to display that new range of power tools you were going on about.’

  His eyebrows shot up then knitted back down as he thought.

  ‘That’s not a bad idea,’ he said finally. ‘Not bad at all. I was wondering where we were going to find the space to do those tools justice. Good job.’

  Rummaging through the storeroom out back, I found a sturdy old wooden crate which I lugged through into the store. I swept all the old stock into it and cleaned the shelves down.

  All I needed to do was accessorise it with an ‘All items a pound’ sign and I was done. I checked the clock. It was just about lunchtime. I grabbed my phone and skipped out. I only had an afternoon and a night until I would be going to Plymouth to meet him. My birth father. I took my sandwich down to the bench and sat munching.

  How was I going to play it? What should I say? Would he believe me? Maybe he’d been looking for me, too, and he’d be excited to finally meet me. He’d hug me and tell me he had so much to tell me. Would Nell mind if we went off to have a coffee? I’m sure she wouldn’t. It was to be expected really. You don’t meet your daughter, have a two-minute chat, then say see you later. Perhaps coffee wouldn’t be enough. Perhaps he’d take the afternoon off work. He might even give us a lift home in his car. I bet he has a really fancy car. I mean, he’s really high up in the company he works at, so he must.

  The afternoon seemed to go more quickly, as I mentally listed the things I had to tell him. He’d want to know all about John and Jackie, of course, and school. Wouldn’t it be weird if I had similar interests to him?

  Every now and again, a little warning would sound in my head. But I ignored it. Negative thinking wouldn’t help. I had to go into this with a positive attitude. Believe and it will happen, don’t they say?

  By the end of the day, the newly cleaned shelves were stocked with the smart new range of power tools.

  ‘Wow, Cam, that’s looking fantastic. You’ve certainly earned your day off.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, grinning.

  ‘And Cam? I’m proud of you – great job.’

  I kept smiling, but my heart fell a little bit. My birth father was going to have a lot to live up to. But Papa John wouldn’t be there forever. I needed to think long term.

  Chapter 15

  Sasha

  Dad had already left for work, leaving me in with Clarisse. Yeah. Cue massive cheering from me. Not. I had just poured myself a large black coffee from the pot when Clarisse appeared, looking all chic and sexy. How did she do that this early in the morning? When I got up I always had dried drool on my face and my hair stuck out at odd angles.

  I ignored her and tapped on my phone, while sipping my coffee. We didn’t need air conditioning in here. The atmosphere was already pretty icy.

  ‘What are you doing today?’ Clarisse asked in her thick French accent.

  I shrugged. I hadn’t given it much thought.

  ‘I’m going into Geneva. Clothes shopping.’

  Despite myself, my ears pricked up.

  ‘And I was wondering if you wanted to come too?’

  Clothes shopping. In Geneva. One of the fashion centres of the world. With someone who, despite all her many and obvious faults, had exquisite taste in clothes. I’d just have to put up with, you know, her.

  ‘Your dad said that you needed something better to wear.’

  I’m sorry, what now? What was wrong with the clothes I had? I couldn’t believe it: this was a makeover trip!

  ‘Are you sure you want to risk being seen with me? You know, looking like this?’ I didn’t know if sarcasm translated, and I didn’t care.

  ‘Well, we’ll get you something early on, then you can wear your new clothes while we shop for more.’ Clearly no, it didn’t.

  ‘Look, if I wanted to hook myself a bloke who was massively older than me, then I’d be right there with you but, thanks, think I’ll stick around here for the day.’

  Clarisse’s red lips squashed themselves into a thin line. ‘Suit yourself.’ Picking up her handbag and sunglasses, she slammed the door as she left.

  The low-level annoyance that had been simmering away for the last week or so threatened to engulf me. But there was no way, no way, I was going to let her ruin my day. She was gone. Dad was out. I had a day to do what I liked. With whoever I liked. A shiver of excitement pulsed over my skin. Perhaps a drink at the local café to start with? I tipped my coffee away, picked up my sunglasses and left.

  As I got to the café, I scanned around. Was he working today? Pierre had promised me that he’d walk me along the lakeside and I was all set to cash in that promise. I spotted him, working behind the bar, making coffees. I could smell the freshly ground beans.

  I walked slowly past the bar. I knew I looked good. Despite what Dad and Clarisse thought, these shorts did wonders for me. I sat down in my usual shady spot and watched Pierre as he delivered a tray of drinks to a couple on the other side of the restaurant. He tucked the tray under his arm and headed straight towards me.

  ‘Good morning, mademoiselle,’ he said, his smile liquefying my insides.

  ‘Hi,’ I said.

  ‘What can I get for you?’

  I bit my bottom lip. Did I have the nerve to say it?

  ‘How about that lakeside walk you promised? And I’ll get a mocha while I’m waiting.’

  He grinned. ‘One mocha coming right up.’

  I watched him go back over to the bar. He made a mocha while talking to the other waiter. They both laughed and I tried hard not to imagine they were laughing at me.

  He came back over, carrying the steaming cup. ‘One mocha, mademoiselle. And I am happy to say that I can finish work in half an hour. So I am at your disposal.’

  Despite wanting to whoop and punch the air, I held it together. I am a sophisticated woman, who knows what she wants and gets it. I smiled. ‘See you at the water’s edge in an hour then?’

  ‘It’s a date.’ He leaned forward to kiss my hand. ‘And perhaps bring your swimming stuff. We could hire a boat and go out on the lake, if you liked.’

  As I sipped my coffee, my hand fizzed and tingled where his lips had touched my skin. This was going to be a good day.

  An hour later I strolled down to the lake, beach bag slung over one shoulder and an excited buzz in my head.
Pierre was already there. I waved, then remembered I was supposed to be playing it cool. But he didn’t seem to worry as he waved back. He looked younger, somehow, out of his waiter’s uniform.

  ‘Hello,’ he said, kissing me on both cheeks, my skin on fire where his lips touched. I’d seen kids in town kissing each other in greeting, but I couldn’t get used to it. It felt so … weird. Over-familiar somehow. But I wasn’t about to complain.

  ‘I’ve got us a boat.’ He nodded towards a small sailing boat, bobbing and pulling at her mooring. He held my hand as we clambered aboard. The swell rocking the boat felt familiar under my feet.

  ‘Have you sailed before?’ he asked.

  Dropping my bag onto the deck, I hopped ashore, slackened off the rope and, looping it over, jumped back on board, giving the boat a push off as I did so.

  ‘Once or twice,’ I said.

  Pierre grinned and started to raise the sail. It felt good to be doing something. For days I’d done nothing but sit around and making my blood pump and getting out of breath felt fabulous. Though I’m not sure that was all down to the physical effort of getting the sailing boat to the middle of the lake. It wasn’t a big boat and Pierre and I kept touching, fingers reaching for the same ropes, feet searching for the same footholds. We didn’t talk much, just worked together to get the boat to where we wanted it, out of the path of the large ferries zigzagging the lake. Away from other people.