by Holly Martin
‘I’m just going to sit over here with my friends, have an ice cream and a cup of coffee and then I’ll go, I promise,’ Amy said.
Suddenly an elderly lady bustled over. ‘It’s disgusting, you should be ashamed of yourself.’
‘Hey!’ Kat said, defensively, suddenly finding her voice and standing up with a great deal of effort. ‘She’s giving up her free time to raise awareness of cancer, she doesn’t get paid to dress up like that and be humiliated, she does it out of the kindness of her heart. So before you get on your moral soap box, consider what good she’s doing.’
The elderly lady gaped like a fish.
‘Does anybody else have a problem with Amy dressed like this?’ Kat said, defiantly. If anybody did, they certainly weren’t brave enough to voice it in front of the highly deranged pregnant lady.
Marcus sighed heavily. ‘Just be quick.’
Amy nodded and shuffled into the booth opposite Kat, knocking over three chairs and a menu stand en-route.
Libby stopped to tidy up the trail of devastation behind her friend, then noticing there was no room left in the booth now it had been taken over by the heavily pregnant lady and the penis, she pulled up a chair to sit at the table.
‘Thanks Kat,’ Amy said, picking up a menu.
Kat leaned over the table. ‘Amy Chadwick, I’ve laughed so hard today I nearly wet myself, so really I should be thanking you.’
* * *
It was as Kat went to the toilet for the third time since their arrival in the ice cream shop that Amy, finishing the last mouthful of her ice cream, leaned across the table and fixed Libby with a stare.
‘How’s the dating going, fallen in love with George yet?’
Libby smirked. ‘No, of course not…’
Amy watched her for a moment. ‘You bloody have, haven’t you?’
‘No, I promise, I haven’t. I just enjoy spending time with him, he makes me smile, a lot.’
‘There’s a reason you haven’t dated anyone since you moved here and I think George is a huge part of that.’
‘No one has taken my fancy.’
‘Because you have everything you need with George.’
Libby sighed. ‘He is my favourite person in the whole world, I can’t deny that, but you can’t force something that isn’t there. He doesn’t want me in that way. He’s in love with Giselle.’
‘And if he did love you, would you stay?’
‘I don’t know, Amy. I’ve been thinking I might stay a bit longer, not for George, just because I like it here. I haven’t decided yet but maybe, if I stayed and George wasn’t with the beautiful woman upstairs, maybe we could date.’
Amy smiled hugely. ‘I would love it if you stayed, I love you, Libby Joseph. Even if George doesn’t love you, I do. So if you’re not going to stay for him, stay for me, because you seriously don’t want to see me cry, that’s a whole lot of tears and snot that no one wants to deal with.’
Libby stared at her across the table. ‘You love me?’
‘Yeah I do. Not in a gay, I want to marry you kind of way, just you’re my best friend and I love you … and stop staring at me like I’ve got three noses. Tell anyone I said that and I’ll shave your head.’
‘OK,’ Libby said, the smile erupting on her face.
‘Stop smiling too.’ Amy pretended to scowl at her.
Libby forced the smile off her face but a few seconds later it was back again. She was still smiling when Kat came back.
‘Do you know how hard it is to wipe your arse when you have a belly the size of small car?’ Kat said. ‘Even getting into the cubicle was a problem.’
‘We should sue Marcus for being anti-pregnant women,’ Amy said.
Marcus, who was passing with a tray of empties, nearly dropped them in horror.
* * *
That afternoon Libby was waiting in the lounge for her date to arrive. She was surprised to feel that her heart was beating nervously in her chest, which was silly. This was George, her best friend; they’d been out hundreds of times before.
There was a knock on the door and she went to answer it. George, she was pleased to note, was dressed as she was, in jeans, a hoodie and walking boots, his waterproof coat slung over his arm. But in his hand was the single yellow rose she had given him earlier. ‘It missed its friends.’
‘Thank you, that’s so sweet.’ She took the rose from him, put it in the vase with the others and kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s lovely to see you again, George, I was so pleased you called after our date the other night.’
‘Well, I’m glad you agreed to see me again. I had such a great time the other night. And can I just say you’re looking very pretty today.’
‘Oh thank you.’
He took her hand as they walked to the door. ‘How am I doing so far?’ he asked in a whisper.
‘Very well,’ she whispered back.
‘What about the flowers? Too cheesy?’
‘No perfect, as was the compliment.’
‘Holding hands?’
‘A bit soon for a second date, but it’s OK, it’s very sweet, women like sweet.’
He led her down the steps and held the car door open for her. He eyed her hopefully, but she shook her head. ‘Too clichéd,’ she whispered.
He closed the door again. ‘Get your own bloody door then,’ he huffed as he went round to the other side. She giggled as she got in.
‘Do you want to do my seatbelt as well? You know as a little lady I might not be able to manage it.’
She saw him shake his head with a smile as he drove off.
They drove down the road that ran parallel to Silver Cove beach away from White Cliff Bay. It wasn’t long though before George parked up by the side of the road. Libby looked around, intrigued as to what they would be doing tonight. They were in the middle of nowhere, the sea was still on one side and large hills grew up like mushrooms on the other. So it was either hiking or maybe… she looked at the sea … fishing from that jetty over there. Fishing would be fun. George could help her to cast out, though her mum had already taught her that when she was little, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She could play the role of the helpless female today. He got out the car and removed a cool box from the back of the car. The cool box didn’t tell her anything; it could be for a picnic up on the hill, though it was a bit grey for that today. Or the cool box could be filled with wiggly maggots.
He came to her side, took her hand and headed out towards the jetty. Excellent, it was fishing. They could have a competition to see who caught the biggest one and later, if it stayed dry, they could light a fire on the beach and cook the fish and eat it. Very romantic.
But as they thudded onto the wooden jetty, she looked around and realised they didn’t have any fishing rods. Confused, she followed him until she noticed something at the end of the jetty that made her go cold. Oh no, not good, not good at all.
He led her to the end of the jetty and carefully lowered the cool box into the orange boat, then hopped down into it and turned back for her.
She looked out on the waves. It would be fine … it was slightly choppy but it’d be fine. Besides, she couldn’t spoil his carefully constructed plan now, he’d be crushed. She would just take deep breaths and keep her eyes on the horizon and pray really hard that the boat journey would be a very, very short one. It’d be fine, really.
It so wasn’t fine. Five minutes into the journey and she was already feeling violently sick. She always prided herself on trying anything once, on being brave and having a sense of adventure. She loved to do boys’ stuff like clay pigeon shooting, quad bike racing, potholing and abseiling. She didn’t get scared of the dark, heights, confined places, spiders or snakes. But her only weakness was seasickness. She had tried many things over the years to try to stop it, from elastic bands round her wrist, special drops of some ointment on her clothes and a multitude of anti-seasick tablets. Nothing had worked.
But today would be different. She was so not going to be s
ick. George was at the wheel, skilfully manoeuvring the speed boat through the waves. But the sea was choppy and the boat was bouncing hard over the water. In normal circumstances she might have found this ride exhilarating, which was obviously what he was hoping for as he gunned the boat to go faster, but with every wave came a surge of sickness in her belly. She drifted to the back of the boat, she’d heard that the back was the best place for sufferers of seasickness, but she had never found the back, middle or front of the boat to be any different. She wasn’t going to be sick. Definitely not. It was a case of mind over matter. She was not going to be sick. She was not going to be sick.
Oh God, she was being sick, her head was over the side, and everything she had ever eaten in her whole life was coming out of her mouth. In actual fact she was pretty sure she had just puked up a kidney, or maybe her appendix.
And George hadn’t noticed, he was too busy driving. She had to do something; at this rate she’d be too ill to do anything, especially eat. She took a handful of seawater, washed her face and sat up. She forced herself to her feet and her stomach lurched. Carefully she made her way back to his side, swallowing down the sickness.
He looked up at her, grinning hugely, though the smile faltered when he saw her face and how pale she probably looked. He quickly stopped the boat as it lurched to a halt and caught her arm to stop her from falling over.
‘You OK?’
‘Yes … can I drive?’
His face fell; clearly he was enjoying being in control. The boat bobbed on the waves and she swallowed another wave of sickness, feeling sure that she was just about to vomit again. Before she could explain or he could ask questions, she quickly sat down on his lap and took the wheel.
‘How does it work?’ she called over the dull thud of the engine.
‘Erm…’ His hands were at her waist, her thighs, then on her shoulders, clearly not knowing where was appropriate to put them. He settled for one hand on the wheel, reaching round her to help her control it and the other hand on the throttle. ‘It’s just like a car in many ways, first, second, third.’ He indicated the increments next to the throttle. ‘Just push it into first and it will move and then you just need to steer it.’
She pushed the throttle into first and the boat started moving slowly forwards.
He pulled the wheel slightly to the right. ‘We’re heading for the islands, over there.’
She nodded and steered in that direction, pushing the boat quickly into second and then third, the force of which pushed her back further into his lap. But the quicker they got there the better. And now, sitting down, concentrating on driving the boat, it had pushed the seasickness to the back of her mind. Her stomach still lurched, but she was pretty sure now she wasn’t going to be sick any more, although that was possibly due to there being nothing left in her stomach.
She just had to concentrate on driving and nothing else. Well, almost nothing else. She couldn’t ignore the fact that George’s hands had returned to her waist and felt very nice there.
As they drew close, his hands went back to the wheel again, reducing the speed down to its slowest as he slowly guided the boat in. He skilfully avoided the rocks and parked the boat next to a small metal pole, then picked up a rope which he threw round it and then cut the engine.
‘Well, that was… fun,’ he said, clearly bemused how his best friend had ended up sitting on his lap.
She turned round to face him, praying she didn’t have sickie breath. ‘Actually it was.’
She climbed over the side of the boat, onto the rocks at the edge of the island, relishing the feel of the solid non-moving ground beneath her feet.
He grabbed the cool box and joined her.
She took a few deep breaths as she walked up. She was OK now, the seasickness almost completely gone, though her belly did feel tender, and she felt a bit wobbly. She looked around. They were on a tiny patch of land probably about thirty metres long and the same across, large boulders jutted out from the middle. Sea stretched out for miles in every direction, though there were more tiny islands not far away. A thin black line in the distance and the tiny green hills indicated where they had come from. Though she couldn’t make out George’s car, they were too far away for that.
He put the box down and turned to look at her. ‘You OK, you look a bit pale?’
‘Just a bit seasick.’
‘So this wasn’t such a good idea, was it?’
‘No, George, this was a brilliant idea: the exhilarating boat ride, the picnic on a deserted island, it’s romantic, it’s exciting, it’s perfect.’
He brightened visibly. ‘Really?’
‘Really George, if this was a real second date, I’d be glad I was wearing matching underwear right about now.’
His mouth fell open. ‘Sex outdoors?’
‘No! Well, maybe if it was warmer, but I meant for later tonight.’
He grinned. ‘I know it’s not really Christmassy but I have that sorted too.’ He reached into his bag and pulled out one Santa hat and one pointy green elf hat with a bell on the end. She quickly grabbed the Santa hat, but only because the comedy value of seeing George in an elf hat was too good to miss. He put his hat on and nodded his head obligingly which jingled the tiny bell. Libby laughed, suddenly feeling a surge of love for him.
‘If this is really what you are going to do with Giselle I would just check she doesn’t get seasick first. Sickie breath is not conducive to a romantic snog.’
He laughed.
‘So this is nice.’ She looked round. It was barren and wild and remote. She loved it.
‘Oh, this isn’t half of it yet. Just you wait.’
She looked confused, as he dug into the cool box. He pulled out two large packs of cocktail sausages and walked down to the shore. She followed and he passed her one box, opened his and started flinging handfuls of sausages out into the sea.
Libby, bemused, copied him.
‘Don’t throw them all, just a couple of handfuls – we’ll save the rest,’ he said, softly.
She nodded, sensing that they had to be quiet.
‘What do we do now?’ she whispered.
‘Just wait.’
They waited, silently. She was almost holding her breath in anticipation. Then suddenly she saw it. A small grey head in the water, a grey head with big black eyes.
She gasped and she saw George grin by her side at her reaction.
The grey head disappeared and reappeared again a bit closer; this time he had another grey-headed friend with him.
‘Seals,’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘There’s a whole colony out here, they live on the islands over there.’
Five heads, with black wet eyes, were staring at them now, as curious about the humans as they were about them.
The seals swam closer and she could see they were eating the sausages, floating in the water.
‘They like sausages?’
‘They love them.’ He grabbed another handful and flung them out to sea.
The water was clear and she could see the silvery bodies gliding and twisting playfully through the waves.
‘George … they’re beautiful.’
He grinned and slung an arm round her shoulders. She leaned into him as she watched the seals play in the water. Periodically, they would throw another handful of sausages into the water, until eventually neither of them had any left. The seals hung around for a bit, hoping for some more, but when none was forthcoming they slowly drifted away.
‘You ready for dinner now?’
She nodded, still in awe.
He took her hand and walked back to the cool box. He pulled out a blanket, then spread his bounty on it just in front of the rocks which created a welcome barrier from the cold sea wind. An array of meat, salad, crackers and cheese was laid out on the blanket, along with strawberries, chocolate and champagne.
‘Wow George, you’ve gone to so much trouble.’
He shrugged, shyly.
They sa
t for ages chatting, eating and drinking champagne. When the food was all finished, he packed all the rubbish away. He picked the blanket up and wrapped it round them, sitting with his arm round her as they watched the sun set. The sky was a tangerine and plum colour tonight, the sun looking very orange as it sank beneath the waves.
‘So how have I done?’ he said, when the sun had vanished completely and the moon was making sporadic appearances between the clouds. ‘Marks out of ten?’
‘Twenty, no fifty,’ she said, cuddling into his arms. ‘George, this was the perfect second date; in fact this would be the perfect place to propose one day, when you find that special person.’
‘Really, that good, eh?’
‘You really are the perfect boyfriend. You’re sweet and incredibly romantic.’
He laughed. ‘Sounds like I’ve made a good impression.’
Libby swallowed. He was the perfect boyfriend. Maybe it was the champagne, but she was suddenly looking at George differently. Maybe Amy was right, maybe he would make the perfect boyfriend for her. She liked him so much and lately whenever she looked at him she felt this ache in her heart for him. She knew he would never do anything to hurt her. She hadn’t trusted anyone ever since she had left her dad fourteen years before, but she trusted George, she had done from the very first day they met. She slugged down the last of the champagne. She was feeling all warm and fuzzy now; she had polished off most of the bottle on her own.
The moon peeped out from the heavy clouds, sending a momentary white glow across the waves.
‘I’ve had the best date, George, thank you.’ She kissed him on his cheek and he looked down at her. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it. Maybe he felt the same way.
Suddenly a loud roaring rumbled angrily across the sky
‘Shit,’ he said, scrabbling to his feet. Over where the hills used to be, the sky suddenly lit up in a fantastic fork of lightning.
‘Shit,’ he repeated.
She got to her feet. ‘That’s not good, is it?’