Another Summer

by Sue Lilley

  Yet if she hadn’t dumped him, he might have been watching where he was going that day. His head was all over the shop. He felt embarrassed. He’d never had a problem getting it up. Maybe there’d been damage and nobody had told him.

  “I’ve never had a fuck-buddy who can’t fuck.”

  “A fuck-buddy? Is that what I am.”

  “Not looking good, so far, is it? Shall I try kissing it better?”

  She went for it. Hands. Tongue. The works. He lay there feeling pathetic. What was wrong with him? She was the love of his life. Why did he feel so out of it?

  Too late, he realised why. He rocked forward. And spewed, before he could shove her out of the way. She shrieked at him, calling him a loser. And tossed his stick after him as he stumbled out of her flat.

  Humiliated, he walked himself sober. But hours later, he still felt sick with an overwhelming sense of dread.

  At home, he gulped a glass of water and scrubbed himself in the shower while he tried to think what to do next. Evie was cosy on the sofa with a magazine. She looked fresh and young after her bath, her damp hair curling over the shoulders of her fluffy pink robe.

  “Dad had to go out so we had dinner early. I kept some for you.” She shuffled her legs underneath her, making room so he could sit down. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

  He didn’t know what to say to her. He had the strangest urge to bury his face in his hands and cry.

  “Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here.”

  “Are you saying you want to leave?”

  Her cheeks were flushed. She was fiddling with her belt, not looking at him. What would he do if she asked him to go? He’d started to feel comfortable there. He’d never even told her he was grateful.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve made you miserable,” he said.

  “Are you?”

  She sounded like she was going to cry. He found himself reaching for her hand. She was cold. He rubbed her fingers. Kissed her. Shyly, she kissed him back. Her robe came open. He saw the ripeness of her breasts, slid his hand in to cup one and felt himself harden at the thought of being the only one who’d ever touched her.

  But she wrenched away from his hand, tugging her robe together. “You’re after sex? After all this time?”

  He didn’t think he could cope with rejection from her, on top of everything else. The lump in his throat made his voice sound croaky.

  “I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away. I forgot you were so pretty.”

  “You know what I look like. You see me every day. Maybe you’ve forgotten you’re only here for Claire?”

  “If you only asked me here because of Claire, why are you crying?”

  She dabbed at her eyes with the belt from her robe. “Maybe I thought things would be better than this.”

  “Maybe they could be?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Truth was, he didn’t know. He needed somebody to want him. To adore him, even. But beyond that, it was all too much of a blur.

  In the end, they seemed to need each other. With Evie in his arms, his body did what it was meant to and it was more of a turn-on than he’d expected, to take his time and feel her responding to what he was doing. Afterwards, he felt a surge of relief and despite the ache in his leg, he nuzzled her neck, enjoying the vanilla scent of her hair.

  “Seems a bit mad that you’re in Vanessa’s room when we already have a baby.”

  “I don’t think your dad would go for us sleeping together.”

  “He’s old fashioned. He’d expect us to be married.”

  Still in the afterglow, he felt drowsy. Not really listening. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Before he’d realised what he’d said, it was already too late. Michael was clapping him on the back and announcing how proud he was. The juggernaut was rolling.

  He wanted to run away. He didn’t think he loved her but couldn’t bring himself to be that cruel again. Or to let Michael down after all he’d done. But if he was to go through with a wedding, Joe knew it would have to be quick, before he lost his nerve. And small. He couldn’t bear competing with the Drydens.

  He got his way and Evie did look gorgeous on the day. And with all the good wishes, he did get swept up in the mood. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling he was watching it happening to somebody else.

  He’d hated Evie’s idea of a honeymoon in Cornwall. His memories of that summer were best forgotten but he could hardly tell her that when she was so excited. But he turned down any suggestion of staying with her grandmother. Or worse, a freebie cottage belonging to the Drydens. He booked the Crown Inn at the last minute. He hadn’t expected much.

  But it was an old smugglers’ inn, cosy and full of atmosphere. The food was amazing and the weather was glorious for October. Although Evie missed Claire, she hoped that having her mother move in to help look after her would bring about her parents’ reconciliation.

  As she began to relax, Joe remembered why he’d fancied her. Walking on the beach was making his leg stronger. Sex on the beach was bringing them closer. She was eager, keen to please. He loved it. He even told her he loved her and a bit of him actually meant it.

  He came back from honeymoon to find he’d landed a job. He wasn’t thrilled it was telesales but he found it a doddle turning on the charm to get a sale. He hit all his targets, which made him popular with his team. The girls treated him like a hero for marrying his pregnant girlfriend instead of doing a runner. He didn’t put them straight.

  When they invited him out for drinks after work, it was easy to fall into a pattern. Easy to go on for food. A club. Nobody mentioned his limp. Nobody cared. They were all young and single, wanting a good time with no strings. He lapped up the flirting. The ego trip. The one-night stands he could almost pick from a menu.

  Evie seemed happy enough with the baby and getting stuck into her studies. Why would she mind him letting his hair down after a hard week at work? He always came home to her, didn’t he?

  One night she was waiting up in the kitchen when he came home a bit the worse for wear. She’d been crying. He managed not to groan. He just wanted a mug of tea and his bed.

  “Why are you so late? I cooked a celebration dinner but it’s ruined now.”

  Come to think of it, there was a faint smell of burning. “Celebrate what?”

  “I got a job.”

  “Didn’t know you wanted a job.”

  “Never bothered to find out, did you?” she sniffed. “Never noticed how frumpy and mumsy I feel? I’m eighteen and my entire life seems to consist of changing nappies and washing up.”

  She hurled a pan lid across the floor. It bounced off the cooker and landed with a clatter under the table. The noise banged round his head. He pulled out a chair. Sat down slowly, so he wouldn’t miss. Wished he’d thought to put the kettle on first but it was too much of an effort to get back up.

  “So, what’s the job?” he managed.

  “What do you care? You’re only bothered about your social life. Swanning around till all hours, coming home reeking of drink. And perfume. I’m not stupid. Who is it this time?”

  Joe opened his mouth. No words came out. Probably just as well. What was he meant to say? When he just sat there, she burst into tears.

  “I know you never wanted to marry me,” she sobbed. “But why do you have to make it so obvious?”

  The denial tripped off his tongue. She didn’t argue. Looked relieved.

  “So, you don’t want a divorce?”

  Why would he want to divorce her? He had nowhere else to go. The shock must have found its way to his face because she was on his lap, kissing him. Wanting make-up sex. Who was he to disappoint her?

  He watched her blossom and said all the right things when she was quickly promoted. Now able to afford their own place, they bought an Edwardian villa that a colleague of Michael’s had inherited from a maiden aunt.

  It had never been touched so they got it for a song. He was meant to be grateful for the fa
vour. He hated that. Hated being railroaded into years of commitment to knock it into shape. He’d never been big on commitment.

  He wanted a nice home but didn’t like getting his hands dirty. Or watching every spare penny disappear down the big black hole of renovations. But Evie loved it. Loved the idea of them building their future together.

  He watched Heather and Steve jetting off to exotic places. And felt left behind. Why should he settle for caravan holidays in Scarborough when all his single workmates were chasing the sun? It made him feel resentful. Entitled to his secret life on the side.

  He found it easy to job-hop, chasing bigger perks, keeping one step ahead of hot water if a girl ever got too clingy. It didn’t much matter what he was selling. He had the gift. Clients loved him and his bonuses stacked up nicely.

  He hadn’t let on about the first bonus. He paid the agreed amount into their joint account and bought himself a sharp suit. He liked how it felt with a crisp shirt and no tie. Then he fancied another one and didn’t want to wait until the end of the quarter. A secret credit card was obtained. Became a habit. Sometimes he bought treats for Evie and Claire, basking in the glow of their gratitude. Paying off the debt was never a risk as he’d never missed a target.

  Evie moved quickly up the food chain. He liked her new look. The smart clothes. Her confidence. Their tired old street became a sought after address and there was more money for the holidays he wanted. He wasn’t happy exactly. But he kept himself amused and they chugged along quite nicely for a good few years.

  Until this year, the year from hell.

  The client was adoring and sympathetic to his troubles. She was older, grateful for crumbs and the chance of a fling. She was nothing special. Just there when he wanted a shoulder to cry on.

  But he’d been careless. Got caught with his pants down and would’ve been shown the door if he hadn’t got in there first with his resignation. It was the wake-up call he’d been needing for years. He finally realised he had to get his life in order.

  It was a shock to realise he wanted the life he already had. And a bigger shock that Evie hadn’t been waiting at home for his token explanation. He knew he had to convince her that things could be different. He could be different. Not least because this year, there’d be no handy bonus to pay off his secret debt.

  Chapter 19

  Evie woke to the chink of a breakfast tray being slid onto the bed beside her. She hitched up against the pillows, wincing a bit at the shameless ache in her thighs. Sex with Jake was better than any workout.

  “Power’s off again,” he told her. “So no coffee, I’m afraid. Or toast. I couldn’t rustle up much beyond leftover cheese. The cupboard’s a bit bare.”

  “I hate grocery shopping,” she groaned. “And I don’t like driving in the rain.”

  “At least it looks like the roof’s holding for now.”

  “Thanks to you.” She kissed his shoulder as she picked up a slice of cheese. “I’ll have to do something about that pile of wet bedding, though. It’s starting to smell. Where’s the nearest launderette?”

  “Launderette?” he scoffed. “Someone’s forgotten where they are.”

  He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, his long hair flopping over one eye. She wanted to push it back. Push him back onto the bed and kiss him all over his hard tanned body. What had he done to her? She never behaved like that, no matter where she was.

  They shared the cheese and the dregs of orange juice. When she ate a slice of bread and marmalade, he licked a smudge off her lip and kept on licking.

  “I might be okay now on the energy front,” he grinned. “But you might have to help me a bit.”

  She helped him a lot. He helped her back. It didn’t stop raining. The power stayed off and the kitchen didn’t manage to re-stock itself.

  “So, am I going to take you to the nearest supermarket?”

  “What? Did you just willingly offer to do a supermarket shop with me?”

  “Why not? I might rustle up a bit of Jamie later and I like to pick out my own ingredients. I’ll even drive.”

  A man offering to shop and cook? Evie wondered if she was lost in some parallel universe, drunk on the intoxicating newness of him.

  He was lying back on the pillows, one arm stretched above his head. Her finger itched to trace along the ridges of his stomach but she knew if she touched him again, they’d never get out of bed. She turned her back and swung her legs onto the floor, removing herself from temptation. The window was still being lashed by rain.

  “I left in that much of a hurry, I can’t even remember if I packed a coat.”

  “You won’t need a coat in Ibiza. The summer’s going to be awesome.”

  Oh God! Ibiza? If she went with him, it would certainly be a summer to remember. But she couldn’t possibly go, could she? She’d only known him a few days. How could she even be thinking about doing such a thing?

  How would she explain it to Claire? As yet, she didn’t even know her parents were possibly splitting up. That could hardly be dropped into a casual conversation. Never mind hearing that her mother was running off to Spain with a hot young musician.

  And taking Claire along wasn’t the answer. She wasn’t three, easy to distract with ice-cream and a go on the swings. She was talking about a summer of nothing but sex. Who was she kidding? It was beyond inappropriate.

  And the sex itself. Lovely as it was, Evie was starting to wonder if she could keep up the pace for a whole summer. What if she just wanted to lie on the beach with a book? Mooch around the market? Her body would be constantly on fire. How much was too much of a good thing?

  “If I’m crashing here, I’ll need some stuff,” Jake was saying, oblivious to her dilemma. “We can call in at my place on the way.”

  They hadn’t discussed him staying on at the cottage. The old Evie would’ve minded about that. Now she just wanted to keep him around for as long as she could, especially if she decided she wasn’t going to Ibiza.

  “I wish I’d remembered my phone. I’m a bit worried that Claire may have been calling from Italy. If she’s been talking to Joe, God knows what he’ll have told her.”

  Jake fished his phone from his pocket as he pulled on his jeans. “Looks like mine died. I can fetch the charger but it won’t be much help around here until the power comes back on.”

  “I think I need to buy a cheap pay-as-you-go. Where’s the nearest place like Carphone Warehouse?”

  He laughed. “You’re such a townie, aren’t you? There’s a big Tesco in Porthrynton Heath. Will that do?”

  “Might be better to go there for supplies anyway. When the power’s this erratic, we should stock up on things that don’t need a fridge. I noticed Penwarren village has gone very up-market. It’s all artisan bakers and organic meat, these days. Lovely for a treat but not very practical.”

  “Like I said the other day, rich incomers are buying up all the property so there’s not much call now for shops selling seaside souvenirs. When I make my first millions, I think I’ll come back and outbid the lot of them.”

  They managed to keep their hands off each other just long enough to get washed in cold water and dressed, for what seemed like the first time in days. The nearest thing Evie had to anything rain-proof was a short blue trench which she pulled on over skinny jeans, a cream T-shirt and her flat leather boots. He’d put his white shirt back on but it was so grubby now it looked more bin-man than rock star.

  Seeing as he’d offered, she gave him the car keys. She’d never been a confident driver in wet weather. Next time she changed her car, she was having something less powerful. But changing her company car meant going back to work and she wasn’t ready to think about that yet. Whatever she decided about Ibiza, maybe she would enquire about taking some more time off so she could sort her head out.

  Jake pulled up outside a row of cottages painted in ice cream colours. It could only be more twee if he’d come out again in wellingtons and a fisherman’s chunky knit sweater. But he�
�d changed into clean jeans, biker boots and a brown leather jacket. He tossed a holdall, another leather jacket and two crash helmets into the boot.

  “Two crash helmets?”

  “I thought we could pick up the bike on the way back and take it for a last spin. It has to go back tomorrow.”

  “We? No way!”

  He grinned at her as he started the car. The rich brown leather perfectly matched his eyes.

  “You’re chicken!”

  “Better chicken than dead. It’s far too dangerous in this weather, surely?”

  “No more dangerous than a rear wheel drive BMW. I can handle it. You’ll just be on the back looking sexy.”

  “In a crash helmet?”

  “Are you saying you’re too old to look sexy in a crash helmet?”

  What could she say to that? It didn’t help that every female in the supermarket seemed to be drooling over him. She started to feel invisible, as if none of them considered that she could possibly be with him. When she was browsing in the aisle of mobile phones, a girl actually handed him a bit of paper, flicking her hair invitingly as she sashayed away.

  “I don’t believe some random girl just gave you her number.”

  He shrugged as he crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “Happens all the time. Sometimes I ring. Sometimes I don’t. Depends what else I’ve got on.”

  Evie didn’t trust herself to speak. Was she so out of touch that this type of thing had become normal?

  Smarting with humiliation, she trudged around the aisles. She felt self-conscious and miserably over dressed in her sassy little trench, certain that to all the girls eyeing him up, she was nothing but a sad old cougar trying too hard.

  Jake could have any of them. He only had to crook his little finger. She’d seen that at the gig the other night. Now here, in a supermarket of all places. It was ludicrous to think she could compete. If her own husband didn’t see anything in her, why would someone as hot as Jake?

  “What’s up?” he frowned as he put a bundle of candles into the trolley. “You’re just tossing stuff in without even looking at it. It’ll cost you a bomb and you won’t even know what you’ve bought.”