Another Summer

by Sue Lilley

Steve shrugged and poured water into his mug, sniffing the coffee as he stirred it. He shoved four slices of bread in the toaster. Joe hoped some would be coming his way. He was starving.

  “Congratulations anyway,” Joe said.

  “Yeah, we’re chuffed. Sorry about yours, though. Is that what finally fucked things up?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He’d never really talked about the lost baby. Or figured out how he felt. It was easier to pretend it had never happened.

  “So, Evie ran off to Cornwall? And you’re hot-footing it down there with another girl in tow? How does that work?”

  “Long story, mate. Give it a rest. I’ll be dropping Lisa off on the way.”

  Steve nodded, not really convinced. “So, ring Heather when you get there, yeah? She’s pissed off now but she’ll worry.”

  Thank Christ Lisa woke up before Heather and they managed to escape. She didn’t say anything about the sofa incident. Didn’t say much at all in the car for which Joe was grateful.

  Raking up the past always unsettled him, made him feel like a failure. It had been easy in the beginning, when Evie had worshipped the ground he’d walked on. And it was maybe okay to think of nothing but getting laid when you were nineteen. But in your thirties? Not so much. How had it taken him until now to get that?

  Steve was right. Evie deserved better and he owed it to her now to put things right. But first he had to get to her and the traffic on the M1 was barely crawling. They were down to one lane due to road works and an inconvenient dunch that looked minor rather than fatal. By lunch time they were still passing Sheffield.

  Joe could hardly see. Headlights in the middle of the day always gave him a headache. The wipers couldn’t cope with the relentless rain or the muddy spray chucked up by the lorry he had no chance of passing. At this rate they’d be lucky to make it to Cheltenham. Cornwall was an impossible dream.

  After another hour or so, he knew he had to stop. Lisa was asleep but he needed a break, a slash and more petrol. He hated motorway services but Burger King would have to do. Maybe the traffic would ease off while they were in there and he could claw back a bit of lost time.

  But it was nearly four when they hit the M42 and Joe’s aching body was locked in position. When the turn-off for Stratford upon Avon loomed ahead in the gloom, he knew if he didn’t get off the motorway, he’d be ready to kill himself.

  Lisa woke up rubbing her eyes. “Why are we stopping here?”

  “Because I’m knackered and I need a cup of tea and a sugar rush.”

  “If you fancy a proper tea shop, I know a place. We go sometimes for treats before the theatre.”

  Of course she’d know a place. It was on her doorstep. Just not quite near enough. They still had a hell of a drive.

  “I need to find a cashpoint.”

  “I’m costing you a fortune aren’t I?”

  “Let me worry about that. And don’t start crying on me again. There’s enough water around already.”

  Even so, he was relieved the machine didn’t chew up his card. If Evie had cleaned out their joint account, he could hardly have blamed her. It was mostly her money anyway. But he knew deep down, she would never be that vindictive, no matter what she thought he’d done.

  He bought an umbrella from an enterprising joker selling them for a fiver. Lisa tucked her arm in his so they could snuggle underneath it and he noticed yet again that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “You’re getting soaked again. Here, have this.”

  He practically forced her arms into his denim jacket. At this rate, she may as well keep it. But he couldn’t handle a see-through sweater on top of everything else.

  She led the way to the old town. The river was running very high, almost lapping onto the grass. There was no sign of the famous swans. They must have taken refuge in the reeds. He knew how they felt. The tiny umbrella was delivering a constant dribble down the back of his shirt.

  The tea room was quaint and traditional with exactly the black and white timbers Joe had imagined. Even the menu was in Copperplate script. Their tea came in a china pot and the cakes were arranged on a chintzy stand with a fancy silver handle.

  Eclairs, what else? Joe tried not to watch Lisa sucking the cream out of one end. What was wrong with him, to be so turned on? She was too young. Too pregnant. Too everything that wasn’t his wife. He had to get her home on the double.

  “Won’t your mum and dad be worried about you?”

  “Why? They’re not expecting me home until tomorrow. I’ll just say I got an earlier train.”

  Joe had fretted about Claire going to Italy, even with her grandmother. He couldn’t imagine, even in a couple of years, being anywhere near cool enough to let her travel the length of the country on her own.

  “Or I could come to Cornwall with you?”

  He almost choked at the thought of explaining that to Evie.

  “I think you’re just trying to put it off. Once they get over the shock, they’re bound to rally round and help you decide what to do. Come on, let’s get back on the road.”

  He paid the bill and gave her no option but to follow him outside. Rain water swirled down the street and over their feet. He couldn’t remember weather so downright miserable.

  He noticed a tear dripping down Lisa’s face, mingling with the smudge of cream on her lip. He wiped it away and knew he was on very dodgy ground. If he put his arm around her he’d be done for. But she looked so forlorn, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  “Don’t get upset. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

  He tried to keep a gap between their bodies but the umbrella was so small and she was so eager to cling, he’d have to be a shit to push her away. As they walked, she stopped crying but all he could feel was her hip nudging against his thigh.

  They were both drenched when they got back to the car. She threw his jacket onto the back seat but her sweater was damp underneath. Damn it! Why couldn’t she ever wear a bra? He dived into the boot and grabbed his bag, pulling out a couple of sweatshirts once he was back inside the car. He stripped off his shirt and put one on but didn’t look away in time when she did the same. What was wrong with the girl? Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? He couldn’t get to Cheltenham quick enough.

  But every way out of Stratford seemed to be flooded, more like its namesake ford than any main road. He had to inch through the water, praying the car wouldn’t stall and by the time they reached the M5, it was almost dark. The fields bordering the motorway were awash and flood water had started to lap onto the hard shoulder.

  Driving conditions were treacherous. Visibility almost zero. Joe’s neck and shoulders were aching from staring at the tail lights in front, trying to judge a safe distance. Two lanes were blocked by breakdowns and after a couple of hours, they’d barely done fifteen miles.

  It was hopeless. Knocking on someone’s door after midnight wasn’t the best way to deliver a pregnant daughter. Even if they got there at all, which wasn’t looking very likely. He knew he’d have to find somewhere they could spend the night.

  But by the time they got to the next motel, he was hard pushed to decide which would be the most dangerous. Taking his chances on the road. Or spending the night with Lisa in the only room the motel had left.

  Chapter 9

  The inn was packed when Evie got there. Local Goths and surfer dudes mixed with old hippies and trendy types from town. The stage had been built in a new extension but it was still her honeymoon inn and it was weird being back there.

  She’d fallen in love with Joe there and had believed they were going to live happily ever after. And now, here she was meeting Jake. Was she out of her mind? She didn’t even know what to call it, whatever it was she was doing.

  Hardly a love affair. Not yet anyway. And hardly likely to become one, when they only had a week. It could be nothing but a passing moment, nothing to do with reality. But how she wanted that one perfect week. And if she was going to behave like a d
ifferent person, at least she looked the part.

  The corset felt like fancy dress, the perfect disguise to hide behind, although it was straining to contain her boobs. But when it got the attention of the overworked barman, she was pleased she’d been brave enough to abandon her everyday clothes.

  She was nervous and wanted a vodka but made do with tonic and lime as she’d promised to drive Jake home. She may be sleep deprived but she wasn’t deluded. She knew the evening wasn’t going to end with a peck on the cheek but she’d stopped being shocked by how much she wanted that.

  She wondered where he was. Was she meant to hang about until he spotted her? Which wouldn’t be easy in this crowd. It seemed the band had quite a following. Their logo, Morgan Run was daubed like graffiti on the drum kit and a fair number of Tshirts. There was a buzz of anticipation and she hoped they were as good as Jake obviously believed.

  As she squeezed her way to the front, the lights dimmed and the cheers tingled up her spine. The first three on stage were a lethal combination of looks and swagger. But when Jake strode out, he nudged them into a different league.

  His skinny black jeans were sprayed on the muscles of his thighs, his white shirt fastened by a single button at the waist. His cuffs were undone, wafting in the lights as he caressed the saxophone, eyes closed against the glare.

  Then he sang solo and a hush fell over the crowd as he stood alone in the spotlight, his gentle voice haunting in the rustling silence. He seemed lost in some rapturous world away from the noise and the drunken adoration. Evie stood transfixed by his mouth and the thought of what it was going to do.

  He played again, the most poignant saxophone blues she’d ever heard. She wanted him so much she could barely breathe and she ached to reach out and touch him. He opened his eyes and looked into her soul. Then he smiled, just once, before he disappeared.

  She felt dizzy and tried to laugh at herself. What was she, sixteen again? It was only a song and he was a performer. He got paid to make people feel like that. But she still wanted him. It was a terrifying cocktail of guilt and excitement.

  She made for the ladies. But the corridor was crammed with gorgeous young girls, all tanned in tight little dresses. A sudden commotion and there he was, basking in the attention. Still playing to the audience, he tugged on the ends of a towel he’d slung around his neck. The white shirt was damp, clinging to the honed contours of his chest.

  “Jake, you didn’t call.”

  “Sorry babe, been busy.”

  “Can I have a photo, Jake?”

  “And me?”

  God! She needed a drink. And the spiky shoes were killing her. But she was trapped in the crowd and had to stand there and watch as he was grabbed by two insistent blondes.

  His hand dangled against one girl’s breast as she snuggled into him, kissing his cheek for the photo. He grinned down at her top, so tight it was almost transparent, as the other girl’s hand made a play for the button on his jeans.

  Evie shrank back into the shadows. He could have any of those girls on a plate. Probably already had. And here she was, doing nothing to resist while he reeled her in like a fish on a hook. What must he think of her?

  She made it to the ladies and wished she hadn’t bothered when the harsh lighting did nothing for her confidence. She looked every year of her age. And she’d been drooling so much she’d licked off all her lipstick. Who was she trying to kid?

  “Why are you hiding in here?”

  He leaned against the door, arms folded, legs crossed in a rock-star pose of arrogant amusement. Wishful thinking, she reminded herself. He hadn’t made the big-time yet. But it took major concentration to get the top on her lip gloss and back into her bag.

  “What makes you think I’m hiding?”

  He leaned closer, trapping her with a proprietary arm on the wall. She could smell the maleness of him. Could see the beads of sweat still clinging to his skin.

  “Don’t mind about that shit. Goes with the territory.”

  “Aren’t you the lucky one!”

  “Only if I get lucky with you.”

  “This is all a game to you, isn’t it? I’m not some toy you haven’t played with yet. If I had any sense, I wouldn’t still be here.”

  “Yet here you all, all sexy and mad. And I’m loving the outfit.”

  He was sizing up her boobs. She wanted to cry with anger and embarrassment as she tugged at the edges of the sheer lace jacket. Damn it! What had possessed her to buy the thing? It was clearly a size too small.

  He brushed his hand over hers, his fingers trailing deliberately over the swell of her breast. She closed her eyes, knowing she was being played. But she missed her chance to walk away.

  “I have to play another set. You’ll wait, yeah?”

  Wait for what, she wondered. More humiliation? She’d had a lifetime of that already. What was so different about Jake? But she only had to look at him to see that.

  Twenty minutes?” he coaxed, a finger brushing her cheek. “You promised me a lift.”

  Then he kissed her, sealing the deal with challenging persuasion. The kiss deepened into a spark of promise. When she opened her eyes, he was gone and she knew she wouldn’t be leaving without him.

  After another storming set, he came out looking for her. He had a bottle in his hand and he wanted to drive.

  “Look, water. Not very rock and roll, I admit, but I never drink when I’m playing.”

  She wished she’d had that vodka as she settled into the passenger seat, acutely aware of Jake’s hand on the gears beside her thigh. They’d opened all the windows but it was still stifling, the air heavy with the threat of rain. Robert Plant’s vocals scorched around the car.

  “This is a great track. Smacks you right in the gut. I’d never have pegged you as a Led Zeppelin fan.”

  “It’s my husband’s CD. Have it, if you want?”

  “I’d have his voice. Who else can sing like that?”

  “I thought you were pretty good.”

  “Good enough for a contract and a shed load of money? That’s what Ibiza’s about, a showcase. Only five more days. I can’t wait.”

  She closed her eyes. Didn’t want to think about him leaving.

  “Can you believe this heat?” she sighed. “There’s going to be a storm.”

  “Not yet, though. There’s time for a walk on the beach.”

  “In these heels?”

  “So, take them off?”

  He was already turning off the road, tyres crunching onto the verge by a gap in the arching hedge. There were dunes and rocks. Then lovely damp sand for her aching feet. He grabbed her hand and started running towards the froth of the midnight sea.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  “Is that a bet?”

  The water was icy. She gasped but he held her firm from behind, nuzzling the back of her neck.

  “You’re looking good, babe.”

  She laughed. “Half drowned, you mean?”

  “Don’t tempt me!”

  She ran out and he caught her, hooking his foot round her ankle. They kissed as they fell onto their knees, half laughing but greedy for each other. His thumbs found her nipples, stroking them free of the corset. They peaked at once. Her whole body was aflame.

  “Either you’re liking that, Mrs Marsh, or it’s the cold sea air. You want more?” he teased. “Like this?”

  His mouth was feasting on her nipples, her neck, her mouth. His fingers were twisting some magic into her hair. When he placed her hand on his jeans, he was rock hard.

  “You want me to come in my jeans? You up for this?”

  “You mean now, on the beach?”

  But the crack of thunder decided for them. They were drenched in seconds.

  “Bloody hell!” he laughed, wiping his face. “Talk about a cold shower.”

  They ran back up to the car. He took off his shirt, dried his face and passed it to her. She almost drowned in the smell of him.

  “You are one sexy woman,” he gro
aned.

  He circled her waist, squeezing up her ribcage until her breasts spilled over the cups of her corset. She was shocked at herself leaving everything bare for his eyes to feast on. But she wanted him to touch her again. Ached for his mouth. Yes, like that.

  “Car’s nice and dry?”

  She felt breathless, excited and terrified of her inability to resist him. What was happening to her? She’d almost had sex on a public beach. But the car was parked on the road. She moved his hand, kissed it as she adjusted her clothes.

  “A nice dry bed will be better.”

  “Spoilsport!”

  But he pulled on his shirt and started the engine, sliding into gear, just as a car passed by and pinned them in the glare of its unforgiving beam.

  In only minutes, the rain was so fierce it slashed across the windscreen. The wipers were hopeless but Jake was confident at the wheel, frowning in silent concentration as the headlights sliced through the darkness.

  Relieved she’d let him drive, she closed her eyes and imagined the night ahead. Would he tease her with his hands and tongue? Or would he be quick the first time, too eager to wait? What would he feel like inside her? She’d never had anyone but Joe.

  Chapter 10

  The morning after the Drydens’ party, Evie was sure she was going to die. Her mouth tasted foul, almost furry. Why had she drunk so much champagne? She’d let Joe undo her clothes, touch her, do things! And then she’d thrown up all over his shoes. She prayed she wouldn’t have to see him again for the rest of her life.

  “Feeling a bit fragile?”

  “You? Why are you creeping up on me? Go away!”

  She was horrified to see him on the beach. She’d only come down for fresh air to try and clear her head. But he sat down next to her on the rock and tried to share his can of coke. The thought of it had her stomach heaving.

  “Hey, you’re not crying?”

  She turned away, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her old purple cardigan. Had he come down there just to laugh at her and make her feel even worse? But out of the blue, he gave her a hug.

  “Sorry about last night. I should have warned you champagne can be lethal. I wish you wouldn’t cry.”