Another Summer

by Sue Lilley

  “You young people have no stamina.”

  She smiled at him as he flipped onto his back. He looked older with ruffled hair and morning shadow. Sexier, if that were possible. Was she starting to have feelings for him? Justifying what she’d done by turning a one-night stand into a love affair? She’d have to be careful.

  But for now she felt drowsy and satisfied. She needed the loo but didn’t want to move. She was ready for hot food and coffee but was reluctant to break the spell. She listened to the rain lashing the window, the fierce wind howling under the eaves but was soothed by his heartbeat. The silence between them was peaceful, a world away from the chaos outside. She wanted to stay like that forever.

  He shivered a bit beside her and tugged the quilt over them. “We should do something about the fire. And your roof. Those bowls are probably overflowing by now.”

  She groaned. “I can’t be bothered to get up.”

  “Not sure I can get up. But maybe if you give me a little stroke?”

  “You’re insatiable!”

  “Pretty much.”

  “How about a shower?” she suggested as he kissed her neck again. “If there’s hot water we should make the most of it.”

  Warm soapy sex was something else again. Her knees almost buckled with the joy of it. Thirty years old and never done that before either. She was beginning to realise she hadn’t lived.

  He watched her towelling her hair. “You’re one hot older woman, Mrs Marsh.”

  “Don’t!” She didn’t want to be reminded she was somebody’s wife.

  “Don’t what? I just gave you a compliment.”

  “Maybe I should be complimenting you.”

  “That good, eh?”

  “Like you need to be told?” She found a smile. “How’s your coffee technique? I’m parched.”

  When she’d given herself a moment, she pulled on jeans and a lilac cotton sweater, deciding she no longer cared that her hair went wavy without her straighteners. The smell of coffee and the sound of piano music drifted up the stairs.

  Generations of village children had practised their scales in that very spot. But none of them had looked like Jake. He was dressed again, the white shirt dry and crumpled from a night by the fire. But unfastened. Tempting.

  “I didn’t know you played the piano.”

  “Comes in handy, being in a band. What about you?”

  “Granny Barbara taught music and she tried her best to persuade us but me and Vanessa always wanted to be outside.” She leaned on the piano as he finished the tune, a mellow sound crying out for words. “I haven’t heard that before.”

  “I just wrote it. Maybe I’ll call it Song for Evie when I get the lyrics.”

  “Man of many talents,” she quipped, a little overcome.

  So he’d been thinking of poetry after all. Writing a song for her. If this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. She picked up a roll from the plate on the piano, bit into the fluffy egg and almost purred.

  “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “If a fried egg has that effect on you, I’m tempted to cook you my Jamie Oliver special.”

  “You’re going to be quite a catch for somebody.”

  “But not you?”

  He picked up his mug, took a drink and watched her wrestle with the question. The banter had turned serious all of a sudden.

  “I just met you,” she hedged.

  “So? That twat destroyed you. It was hard to watch. But I made you smile. Made you come. More than once, if I remember?”

  “I’m worried about rushing into things.”

  “You’re not going back to him?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “But in the meantime, who says you can’t be happy?”

  She looked down, away from his searching eyes. She bit into her roll, chewed a bit more than was needed. A part of her had never been so happy. The rest had never been so terrified.

  “Jake, how old are you? Twenty-five?”

  “Do I look like I’ve had a hard life?”

  She put down the roll, frowning at him. “Go on, how old?”

  “Chill out. I’m in the ballpark. Twenty two,” he admitted when she continued to glare at him.

  “Eight years younger than me? That’s nowhere near in the ballpark.”

  “Says who? We connect, don’t we?”

  She couldn’t deny it. She’d never connected like that before. Probably never would again. And it was only for a week, she reminded herself. Different rules, surely? One blissful week and then he’d be nothing but a delicious memory. Why shouldn’t she make the most of it?

  He’d turned away, was tinkling on the keys, putting words to the melody she’d just heard him play.

  “Me and my Evie, we have this connection. I see your green eyes, I get an erection. Come away with me now and be my muse. If you turn me down, I’ll be singing the blues.”

  She giggled. “That’s truly terrible!”

  “But true, all the same. Ibiza would be great for you. You should come. We could have the whole summer.”

  “Jake, I hardly even know you. And there’s my daughter?”

  “Details!”

  “It’s more complicated than details.”

  “It’s sex. Only as complicated as you want to make it. You fancy me, don’t you? And you know I think you’re hot? We could have some serious fun. You could bring your daughter with you. The place we’ve rented is huge.”

  “But she has school. It’s only half term.”

  “Even better. All kids jump at the chance of missing school. Or leave her with her dad. Let him do his bit.”

  “You think I could leave my daughter for a whole summer?”

  “A whole summer of beach sex. Sun on your back sex. Sex in the sea.”

  “Stop! I get the picture.”

  “There’s no rush. You can have until the weekend to think about it.”

  She couldn’t believe she was so tempted. Her body was tingling at the thought of all that time with Jake. She’d never had a summer like it. Probably never would again.

  But it was beyond impossible. She wasn’t the sort of mother who could abandon her daughter, under any circumstances. She’d never been able to forget how much that hurt.

  ***

  That lonely summer had been the longest of Evie’s life. At first, she didn’t believe Joe would disappear without an explanation. But when she heard in the village that Steve Dryden had gone back to York, she had to accept there was no chance of Joe coming back to Cornwall without him.

  Heartbroken, she went through the motions, swimming as usual, pretending to read. But it became increasingly hard to concentrate on anything. By the end of August, she’d missed two periods.

  Pregnant. Even the word was terrifying as it hovered in the background, demanding to be dealt with. There was nobody she could tell, certainly not her grandmother who would be shocked and disappointed. Vanessa was working at her hotel in Edinburgh and her parents were still sending cheery postcards from ports they visited on their cruise.

  At long last, the day came when she was to be collected. It would be a relief to get away from Cornwall. She was certain she’d never come back. Her dad looked bronzed but grouchy as he kissed her absent-mindedly. He was on his own.

  “Where’s Mum?”

  “Where indeed? Couldn’t be bothered to come. Too busy discovering herself.”

  He made a drama of pulling out a chair and settling himself at the kitchen table. Granny Barbara busied herself fetching tea and scones for her son. Evie hovered, feeling sick with apprehension.

  “I tell you this cruise has gone to her head. The whole trip has been about fancy hairstyles, fancier clothes. Making a fool of herself flirting with every Tom, Dick and Harry on the boat. She’s never been satisfied being a schoolteacher’s wife.”

  “Michael, that’s ridiculous,” Granny Barbara scolded. “You’ve been married over twenty years.”

  “So why is she talking abou
t going into business? Her own boutique, no less.”

  “And you don’t approve?”

  “Of course I don’t bloody approve! Why would I? She’ll be turning our lives upside down for nothing. What does she even know about a business like that? It’s years since she worked in that dress shop.”

  “Hardly just a dress shop, dear. Wasn’t the owner a designer?”

  “Next thing we know she’ll be wanting to take up modelling again. Imagine! At her age!”

  “It’s nearly a new millennium, Michael. Maxine is still a very attractive woman.”

  “She thinks she’s spotted a gap in the market, smart occasion clothes for women who don’t want to dress like their daughters or their mothers, whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

  “She may just have a point.”

  “Her place is at home with the family.”

  Evie swallowed back tears. She’d never heard her father sound so old-fashioned. If he was so disapproving about her mother going into business, how would he ever accept a daughter who was a single mother?

  Single mother? That was the first time she’d said that, even to herself. Did that mean she wanted to keep the baby? And what of her own mother? If Maxine was going back to modelling, she wouldn’t take kindly to being a grandmother. It was all so bewildering. Evie just didn’t know what to do.

  So she did nothing. Said nothing. She went back to school to start her A-levels, avoiding any gossip about summer crushes and scandals. She buried herself in her books, praying that if she ignored it for long enough, her problem would go away.

  But it got worse. It seemed that as soon as she stopped throwing up all the time, her school skirt started to cut her in two. The zip broke and she had to keep it fastened with safety pins and a bit of elastic. She wore long baggy jumpers to cover everything up but she knew that wouldn’t do forever.

  She longed for somebody to put their arms around her and tell her everything would be alright. She wanted to tell her mother but Maxine never seemed to be at home on her own. And the longer Evie left it, the harder it was to say anything.

  One day in November, she trudged home from school in the biting wind. Tonight, she’d decided. She’d tell them tonight. She guessed she was about four months pregnant and she couldn’t go on any longer carrying such a secret on her own.

  But the words she’d carefully rehearsed were forgotten when she saw the two bulging suitcases in the hall of the bungalow. Maxine came out of the bedroom wearing a new winter coat and scarlet leather gloves.

  “What’s going on, Mum?”

  Maxine was obviously startled to see her. “I thought you were going to the library?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. Where are you going?”

  “I found the perfect property in Harrogate for my boutique. I need to be there to oversee the renovations.”

  “You’re going to Harrogate? When will you be back?”

  A car tooted outside. Maxine made to open the door but Evie was standing in her way.

  “The thing is, love, I’m not planning on coming back.” She pointed behind her, to the door of Evie’s room. “I left a note for you, explaining things.”

  “You were going to leave without saying goodbye? Does Dad know?”

  “I’m sorry, love, but I didn’t want to give him the chance to stop me. I’ve had more than I can take of his chauvinistic attitude. He’s stifling me. I have to get away or I’ll go mad.”

  Evie choked back horrified tears. “But what about me? Can I come with you?”

  “You’ll be fine here with your dad. You’ve always been a daddy’s girl. You’re grown up now, doing well in school. You don’t need me like you did when you were little.”

  Maxine put her hands on Evie’s shoulders but Evie shrugged her off. She didn’t want to be fobbed off with a hug.

  “But I do need you! You don’t understand.”

  “Look, when I get settled, of course you can come and stay. There’s a nice flat with a spare room. I’ll do it up so it’s pretty for you.” The car tooted again. “That’s my cab. I have to go.”

  “Don’t! Please?”

  “I’m sorry but you’re sixteen now. Please try and understand what it’s been like for me. This is my chance to have my independence back. You don’t know how precious that is. You’ll have choices I never had. Don’t waste your opportunities.”

  As the door closed quietly behind her mother, Evie sat on the floor, right there in the hall and sobbed as if her heart would break. She’d never felt so frightened. Or so lonely.

  Her dad became an old man overnight. He just sat in front of the telly drinking whisky. Evie cooked for them, tried to keep things normal. Ate as little as possible so she wouldn’t put on weight. But every day, her secret got bigger and harder to hide.

  Maxine wrote. Cheery letters full of life in Harrogate. Evie couldn’t write back. She felt cold and ill. She wished she was dead.

  Vanessa came home for the Christmas weekend. She looked like a stranger with her trendy new clothes and grown-up highlights in her bobbed hair. It seemed that as soon as she’d dumped her bags, she was out again. Partying. Catching up. Never being at home.

  Christmas day was grim. The sisters cooked a miserable turkey dinner and washed up while their dad slept it off in front of the telly. Maxine had sent presents before jetting off to the South of France with friends nobody had heard of.

  “Lucky mum,” Vanessa sighed. “Bet she isn’t eating rubbery turkey.”

  “I hope she’s choking on it. I hate her!”

  A dinner plate slipped from Evie’s hand. As it smashed on the terracotta floor, she burst into tears.

  Vanessa looked shocked. “It’s only a plate.”

  “It isn’t only a plate,” Evie sobbed. “It’s everything. I can’t cope anymore. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do about what?” Vanessa dried her hands and led Evie to a chair. “Come on, spit it out.”

  “I think I might be pregnant.”

  Chapter 13

  Evie sat down at the kitchen table, dabbing at her eyes. It had been such a relief to cry, to have Vanessa hold her while she poured out all her fears and heartache.

  “You poor thing, having to keep it to yourself all this time.”

  “I just didn’t know who to tell. I’ve been avoiding all my friends since the summer and Dad’s been impossible since mum left, you’ve seen him yourself.”

  “Mum’s going to be so upset about letting you down.”

  “You aren’t siding with her? She’s not interested in anything but her shop. I hate her!”

  “Look, she told me a bit more about what had been going on. I think I understand better now. But I’m sure she’d have changed her plans if she’d known about you.”

  “I doubt that,” Evie scoffed. “You weren’t here, you don’t know what it was like. Nothing was going to stop her getting into that taxi. And when did you talk to her, anyway?”

  “She came up to Edinburgh to see me. Said she’d rung home a few times but you wouldn’t take her calls. But I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell her on the phone. We’ll sort something out. Don’t worry.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  It was a relief that her secret was out but now she had to face up to it and her knees were trembling like jelly. Vanessa put the kettle on for coffee, which Evie couldn’t even smell without feeling sick. She sipped her glass of water.

  “Do you know how far along you are?”

  “I’ve been too scared to go to the doctor. But I guess around five months.”

  “That far? Too late for an abortion, then.”

  “I don’t know if I could do that anyway,” Evie shivered.

  “Well, after the holidays, I can go to the doctor’s with you, if you like? But what about the boy? Have you told him?”

  “No.” Evie’s eyes filled again. “He’s called Joe Marsh, one of Steve Dryden’s friends from uni. I haven’t seen him since the summer.”

&nb
sp; “And you didn’t think to use something?”

  “It wasn’t planned like that. But he wasn’t just anyone,” Evie stressed. “I thought I was falling in love with him.”

  “And I bet he was very persuasive? That lot think they run the world. We should try and find him.”

  “No! I’d be too embarrassed to get in touch with him now, after all this time.”

  “You don’t have to marry him or anything,” Vanessa insisted, patting Evie’s hand. “But why should he get away scott free? He should be made to face up to what he did. We should ring Steve’s mother and get his address.”

  “Vanessa, don’t!”

  Evie felt trapped. She’d longed for help but now it all seemed to be running away from her.

  “Why not? She knows us. She won’t think it’s strange, us wanting to catch up with Steve.”

  One phone call later, Vanessa had an address and a phone number scribbled on the back of a Christmas card.

  “Steve stayed at his flat in York for Christmas. I told her I was working there at the moment. I’ll drive you there tomorrow.”

  “But it’s Boxing Day tomorrow. We don’t need to actually go, do we? Can’t we just ring?”

  “Definitely not. Far too easy for Steve to lie and say he’s never heard of Joe Marsh. And if it’s Boxing Day, he’s more likely to be at home.”

  Evie couldn’t bring herself to tell Vanessa that Joe shared the flat with Steve. She knew, if she hadn’t been avoiding more humiliation, she could have made that call herself, months ago. And now, on top of everything else, Joe would be able to compare her to Vanessa and wonder what he’d been thinking.

  Evie had thought she had no more tears to shed but all through that night she cried into her pillow. She felt swamped all over again by the sick feeling of rejection. First Joe. Then her mother, made worse by the knowledge she’d made the effort to go and see Vanessa. And now Vanessa was making her turn up unannounced on Joe’s doorstep.

  “You look terrible,” Vanessa said next morning as she made Evie eat some toast. “You’d best put on some make up, cover up those black circles.”

  “What does it matter?”

  “You don’t want to show up looking like some charity case, do you? This Joe character must have fancied you once. If we do find him, we need to show him what he’s missing. Get back upstairs and put something nice on.”