Another Summer

by Sue Lilley

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

  “Not really,” Evie sighed. “She’ll think I’m still having a go at her for leaving us.”

  “And are you?”

  “I don’t know what I think any more.” She flopped back on the grass, plucking at a patch of daisies. “Vanessa was here at the weekend. All she talked about was clothes, nights out, gossip. I’d looked forward to her coming but I was ready to scream by the time she went back to Edinburgh. All of a sudden it’s like I’m the older sister.”

  “You’ve got different priorities now, that’s all. I’ve got three older sisters. It’s always complicated.”

  “Everything seems complicated at the moment. I don’t regret keeping Claire. Not for a minute. But I want my own life. If I can’t have that yet, I can’t help feeling I should have a proper family.”

  “But you do have a family. They’re all in different places but you do still have them.”

  Evie sat up, deciding it was now or never to say what was on her mind. But she couldn’t quite look Heather in the eye.

  “I don’t want the only man in Claire’s life to be her grandfather. She has a father. She has Joe.”

  “You still want him, then?”

  “I want the best for my daughter. Our daughter.”

  Evie knew she hadn’t answered the question. She was too scared to face up to how she felt. She held her breath, waiting for Heather to speak. She was taking her time, sipping her juice, obviously struggling with what to say next.

  “I’ve been wondering whether to tell you this. I don’t want to make everything worse.”

  But hearing about Joe’s accident was almost a relief. There was a proper reason why he hadn’t been in touch.

  “He will be alright, won’t he? There won’t be any permanent damage to his leg?”

  “The doctors are being very cagey. It’s a bad break and he’ll need weeks in traction before he can even try standing. He was lucky not to be killed. But he seems to be on the mend, thank goodness.”

  Evie felt faint. Joe could have died without ever seeing his daughter. She stroked the baby’s pretty little feet. It stopped her having to look at Heather.

  “He does know about Claire, doesn’t he?”

  “As soon as Vanessa rang me, I told him. I thought he had the right to know. But it was the day he was hit by the lorry and I can’t help feeling a bit responsible. It must have been playing on his mind.”

  “Why? What did he say when you told him?”

  Heather took Evie’s hand, obviously weighing up how honest to be. Evie held her breath, surprised by how much it mattered.

  “Look Evie, don’t go getting your hopes up. At the best of times, he’s worse than useless at anything domestic. Right now, he’s not in a good place. I’m sure you’d be better off sorting out your life without relying on Joe.”

  Evie wiped her eyes. She hadn’t realised she was crying. “He doesn’t want us, does he? You must think I’m really stupid?”

  “I think you’re very brave.”

  “So, would it be brave or stupid to go and see him? Talk to him face to face?”

  The words were out before she realised she was even thinking about it. She made a great show of adjusting the baby’s sun hat but her hands were trembling so much she could hardly breathe.

  “I really don’t know, Evie. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m already hurt. And I’ve tried to get over him, I really have. I mean, we didn’t even know each other all that well. But I can’t believe he won’t want his daughter once he sees her.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Well, then I’ll know.”

  “He’s my little brother. I’ve always looked out for him and I want him to be happy.”

  “And you don’t think he’ll be happy with me and Claire?”

  “He’s stuck in a hospital bed. He’s bored and cranky. It’s not the right time to be making big decisions.”

  “But maybe it’s the right time to start talking about those decisions? I have to try, Heather. I’ll go mad if I don’t.”

  “I really don’t know how he’ll feel about it. He’s in a bit of a state. I don’t want to be blamed for a relapse or something.”

  “So, just tell me which hospital and I’ll leave you out of it. We can go on the train or my dad can take us.”

  “If your mind’s made up, I’ll take you,” Heather decided. “Claire’s my niece, isn’t she? But promise you’ll be careful. Don’t expect too much?”

  Evie couldn’t promise that and Heather didn’t press her. They hugged, both of them close to tears. Then Heather got up to go, flicking the daisy chains off her capris.

  “Anyway, I haven’t told you my news yet. I don’t know if you remember I was seeing Joe’s mate, Steve? Well we just got engaged.” Heather waved her left hand. “No ring yet, it’s being altered. I’m so happy. I love him to bits.”

  Evie couldn’t think what to say. She couldn’t imagine Heather, who was so lovely, choosing someone like Steve Dryden. But maybe she was being unfair when all she knew of him had been coloured by her lonely summers in Cornwall. And people could change, couldn’t they?

  “Congratulations,” she managed.

  “I’m hoping Steve settling down will be a good influence on Joe. He’s drifting at the minute. Fingers crossed, a visit from you and Claire might turn out to be a good thing.”

  Evie waited a couple of weeks until her belly had shrunk enough to get into a pretty summer dress. The baby looked so adorable in her little pink outfit, it was hard to imagine how Joe would be able to resist her.

  Heather took them to the hospital, waiting in the car with the baby so Evie could go in alone and test the water. As she walked along the corridor, it dawned on her that Joe was a virtual stranger and felt suddenly terrified.

  There were four beds in the ward. Joe was by far the youngest patient. One leg was winched up on a pulley. He was naked from the waist up, a huge bandage strapped across his shoulder, partially covering the garish tattoo. A nurse was fussing with his pillows, flirting a bit. Joe was just lying there looking glum.

  He glanced up and saw her so she made herself go in. Her knees were wobbly. She wished she could’ve got into her jeans as the cotton dress was wrapping itself round her legs. She’d brought him a magazine. She clutched it like a lifeline.

  “Hi,” he nodded. “Heather said you might come.”

  His voice was husky, as if he needed some water. She’d expected him to be a bit wary. But he smiled politely, as if she was nobody.

  She put the magazine on his locker and sat on the chair by the bed. He didn’t look at her. He had some nasty cuts on his body but his face seemed untouched. He looked pale. Deflated. Evie felt sick. She asked him how he was feeling.

  “Like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

  “Have they said how long you’ll be in here?”

  “They won’t be letting me out of this contraption in a hurry. Then after that I’ll be on crutches for a while, then sticks, physiotherapy. The works. I’m thrilled about that, obviously.”

  “Maybe that’s what you get for arguing with a truck.”

  He looked at her then, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. “You’re meant to say how sorry you are.”

  “Maybe I’m not sorry. Maybe I’m wondering if you were drunk or stoned.”

  “You think it was my own fault?”

  “I don’t know. Was it?”

  “You tell me.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  He was as handsome as she’d remembered. But he looked so flat, as if his spirit had been smashed along with his leg. She’d expected to feel angry. But mostly she just felt sorry for him.

  He reached for her hand. She froze. Did she want him to touch her?

  “Why are you here?”

  “I thought you should see your daughter.”

  “So, why aren’t you thrusting her in my face, trying to make me feel guilty?”

 
“Do you feel guilty?”

  He stared at her, his eyes deep and unfathomable. She sat still, not moving her hand from his, as though the next few minutes would be the answer to everything.

  “I do want to see her.”

  When Heather brought the baby in, she placed her carefully in the crook of his arm. She looked tiny but somehow safe. Joe couldn’t stop looking at her. He touched every finger and toe and when he finally glanced up at Evie, his dark eyes were glossy.

  “I was thinking about you when I stepped into that road.”

  Heather groaned. “I had a feeling it might be something to do with me telling you the news.”

  “It wasn’t your fault I’d been such a shit,” he insisted. “I was wondering if it was too late to put things right?”

  Evie’s throat was so dry she couldn’t speak. She felt overcome. Didn’t even know what she wanted to say. She hadn’t expected this. Not so soon.

  Joe kissed the baby’s cheek and handed her back to Heather who disappeared tactfully back to the car.

  “Are you going to forgive me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “While you’re thinking about it, will you come again?” He squeezed her hand, impatient for her answer.

  “Why? Because you’re bored?”

  “Out of my skull,” he admitted. “I’m not great at promises but there’s stuff to talk about, isn’t there?”

  She found she liked him for his honesty. Maybe that was a good enough start. Better than she’d hoped for when they were really no more than strangers. If she noticed the glint of quiet desperation in the depths of his eyes, she decided quite determinedly to ignore it.

  Chapter 18

  Joe’s bed was a prison. They might be fixing his mangled leg but they couldn’t do much to fix his mangled life.

  He’d probably been chucked out of uni by now. He had no money. No job. Nowhere even to live. And no mates to speak of. Just Steve, who was getting it on with Heather. How did that happen?

  There’d been no word from Kat. He suspected nobody had cared enough to tell her. But he still lay there every day, watching the clock, longing to see her rushing in, as soon as she found out what had happened to him.

  But weeks passed. Silent weeks that gnawed at his insides. He dreaded feeling this lonely forever. Then Evie showed up.

  She was prettier than he remembered. Nervous, obviously. And a bit wary. But not the mouse he’d expected. He couldn’t believe she still wanted to know him but soon he was living for the sound of her footsteps tapping outside the ward.

  The baby was cute and seemed to be smiling at him. Affection became a drug. He was hooked before he knew it. And scared of how he’d cope when they said he could go home.

  Home? Were they taking the piss? Steve was storing his stuff from Kat’s. But his flat and Heather’s both had steep stairs. Joe was on crutches and in constant pain. He needed daily physiotherapy. He was stranded.

  Then Evie got her father to let Joe move into their bungalow in Newcastle. It was close to several hospitals. He felt trapped by this perfect solution but couldn’t come up with an alternative or a reason to say no.

  They gave him Vanessa’s room. Put up with his erratic moods and tried not to crowd him. Not many would have taken in someone who’d got their daughter pregnant but Joe discovered Michael Lee was a top bloke. He was easy to talk to. He knew so much about books and politics, stuff Joe had never considered. He wasn’t heavy but was clearly biding his time.

  Maxine was the opposite of any grandmother Joe had ever come across. Super groomed and scary, she swooped in to visit the baby. Joe expected to be glared at. Tolerated. But for whatever reason, she seemed to take to him and never seemed to mind his company.

  Joe didn’t get what was going on with Maxine and Michael. They were obviously into each other, yet weren’t together. And there was no mention of divorce. Evie said she hoped the baby would bring them back together. Evie was a girl who liked a happy ending.

  Her family behaved like they had adopted him. Apart from snooty Vanessa, who treated him like shit on her shoe on the odd days she came home to visit, they were almost killing him with kindness and understanding. But he knew they were all waiting for him to man up and do the right thing.

  He kept waking up in a cold sweat, knowing he’d swapped one prison for another. He didn’t think he fancied Evie any more. He hadn’t had sex since Kat and she’d been beyond hot. Evie was in a different zone. He managed the occasional peck on the cheek but couldn’t imagine going there again. He’d fallen in love with his daughter but the mother thing freaked him out.

  He hated the drudgery of being stuck in the house. He was twenty. It was a sick joke. He just wanted to take off on his own, get pissed and forget all about it. But he was doped up with painkillers and trying to walk sober was effort enough.

  It didn’t help that when Heather dropped by, the talk was all about weddings. Steve’s family, being loaded, were paying for everything. Heather said she didn’t mind, she was content just to pay for her dress. But Joe minded for her. He’d always hated that feeling of being a poor relation.

  She wanted Joe to give her away. He was horrified, laughed to cover it up. Made jokes about him tripping over her dress if he tried to walk her down the aisle.

  Heather didn’t find that funny. She expected her only brother to be there for her. If he didn’t want to do it on crutches or sticks, it was up to him to learn to walk again without them.

  The physiotherapy wiped him out. But he got off the crutches and onto a stick. Michael was always encouraging and Joe, who’d never known his own father, found himself wanting that praise.

  Gradually, Michael started nudging him into making plans. Getting a job. The future. Joe couldn’t admit out loud that he was spooked by the way people looked at him. Or didn’t. As if the sight of his odd walk offended them. As if he’d lost his marbles, not just the temporary ability to walk in a straight line.

  But Michael managed to talk him into signing on, although there weren’t many options for him on the jobs front. He hadn’t finished his degree and had no experience of anything but bar work, which he couldn’t do now, thanks to his dodgy leg. They mentioned courses and he went through the motions to keep them off his back.

  But he got into the habit of wandering round town when he was out, looking at stuff he couldn’t afford. Even though his leg was killing him, the exercise was good and he found that for those few hours he could pretend he wasn’t a father at twenty and he wasn’t being railroaded into doing the husband thing next.

  One day he spotted a poster for the university art show. Curious, he went in. A woman was sitting at a desk selling catalogues, her long black hair hiding her face as she bent over a book. The room was cool but her tanned arms were bare and her nipples poked out of her flimsy top. It was Kat.

  His stomach lurched as he stood there dithering. But she glanced up and saw him. Looked him over, eyebrows raised. No hint of a smile. Or anything approaching sympathy.

  “Been in the wars?”

  “Something like that.”

  “No lasting damage, I hope?”

  Her gaze settled on his crotch. He felt himself tighten as if she’d touched him. His leg was wobbly, as much from the memory as the pain from standing up.

  “What are you doing here, Kat? I thought you were in Amsterdam?”

  “I came back,” she shrugged. “I’m teaching for one semester. Then off to Greece for the winter. A friend runs an artists’ retreat.”

  “I live here now,” he told her although she hadn’t asked. “I missed you.”

  “Did you?” she laughed, as if she couldn’t think why.

  He felt stupid for blurting it out. Maybe she didn’t even remember him. It had been months and she’d never been short of playmates.

  “We should get a drink sometime?” he tried, more casually.

  “Maybe we should. Actually, now works for me. This place is closing for the afternoon.”

 
She took him to the darkest bar he’d ever been in. The music was sleazy late-night blues, disorientating in the afternoon. They snogged like teenagers, knocking back doubles of Jack and coke until he was so turned on he thought he would burst. He switched his thoughts to something else.

  “I’m still thinking about a portfolio.”

  The words surprised him, coming from some hazy place in the past. He’d lived for her approval once. Hadn’t moved on, it seemed.

  “Are you?” she scoffed. “Take my advice, babe. Don’t waste your time. That classical crap’s going nowhere. Find a friendly local club if you want to play. But leave the real work to the big boys.”

  He was stung. “You used to say different.”

  “Did I? Maybe I was just being nice.”

  She kissed him again, not interested in talking. When she dragged him to his feet, she almost pulled him over. He made a grab for his stick where it was leaning against the wall.

  “Do you need that thing? I still fancy you Joe but maybe you’re not up to it now?”

  “I’m good,” he insisted, afraid she was leaving.

  “My place, then?”

  It wasn’t far to her flat. But he was in agony when they got there. And his head was swimming with the cocktail of bourbon and painkillers. He needed to sit down, catch his breath. But Kat had kicked off her jeans as soon as they got through the door.

  Her miniscule underwear was pink and see through. She never shaved, he remembered. The damp hair was erotic. Inviting. She leaned against the wall, legs apart, took one of his fingers and stroked herself through the lace. Then inside. And up into her open wetness. Joe felt woozy. Worse if he closed his eyes.

  “Could we sit down?”

  She laughed and pulled him to a sofa, straddling him when he’d fallen onto it. She lifted her top, pulled at her nipples. Held them out to his mouth. Joe sucked. He felt odd. Tried everything to concentrate on what he was doing.

  Her hands were on his belt now. His zip. Tugging him free of his jeans.

  “What’s this?” she scoffed as he flopped into her hand.

  “Just give me a minute?” he pleaded, mortified. “I got run over by a truck.”

  “Not my problem, babe.”