'Well, just so long as one of you gets her back safely. She's such a daydreamer, she'd never find her way back on her own,' said Biddy, but she was smiling. 'Off you go then.'
I ran off with Cookie and Colin. We walked along the water's edge, suddenly all of us at a loss for words, even Colin. He started messing around, barging into Cookie, splashing him, trying to wrestle with him. I edged away, not wanting to get my lilac skirt splashed. Maybe I should have changed back into my swimming costume? No, maybe not. They both stared at me a bit too much as it was.
'What's up, Jacky? Come in paddling,' said Colin, kicking his way through the waves.
'I don't want to get all wet again,' I said.
'Have you been swimming this morning then?' Cookie asked.
'Yep. Well, surfriding,' I said.
'She's really good at it,' said Colin, though he'd never seen me.
'So are you a really sporty girl then?'
'No fear! I hate most sports. It's my worst thing at school,' I said. 'I can't catch a ball and I can't run for toffee.'
'But you like swimming?'
'Yes, I love it.'
'Maybe you're a mermaid,' said Cookie. 'Perhaps you've got green scales under your pretty skirt.'
We both blushed. Colin sighed and went tearing along, kicking hard, lost in a plume of spray.
The sun came out from behind a cloud and shone on the blue water. I looked at the sea, the sky, the sands.
'It's so lovely here,' I said.
'I know. We come every year.' Cookie looked up the beach to the rocks. 'There are caves in there. We could go exploring.'
'I don't think I've ever been in a proper cave before. Do they go back a long way?'
'Some of them do. When I was little I used to like setting up camp in them. I'd take a rug and my spade and some chocolate and stuff and crouch there in the dark, kidding on I was in some Enid Blyton book.'
'The Cave of Adventure! I read heaps of those. I love reading. Not Enid Blyton now, of course.'
'What do you like reading now then?' asked Cookie.
I had enough sense not to try and answer him properly as it would have taken all afternoon.
'I've just read a book called Billy Liar,' I said.
'Oh, I've read that,' said Cookie. 'It's good, isn't it. Funny. Those calendars!'
He really had read it.
'I wish he'd gone to London in the end,' I said.
'I'm going to go to London one day,' said Cookie. 'And I'll come and visit you and we'll go to . . . ?' He looked at me for suggestions.
'We'll go to all the coffee bars and jazz cellars in Soho,' I said, as if I frequented them every day. I thought hard, remembering my trips to the Royal Dental Hospital. 'And we'll have a meal at the Golden Egg in Leicester Square and then go dancing at the Empire Ballroom.'
'Jiving,' said Cookie, suddenly taking hold of my hand and whirling me round.
'Come on, you two,' Colin yelled. 'What are you doing?'
'We're dancing,' said Cookie.
'Oh, right. OK, so am I,' said Colin, and he started capering around too, splashing more than ever.
It took us ages to get to the beach hut, but Cookie's parents seemed entirely unfazed. His dad just smiled and waved at Colin and me and then went back to his paper. His mum went into the beach hut and brought back four cans of Tizer and a mound of egg sandwiches in a big Oxo tin. The fourth can was for Cookie's sister, a shy, sweet girl several years younger than me. She looked admiringly at my flowery skirt and coral lipstick. My heart was beating fast again. I wasn't the shy young girl this time. I was the older girl with the cool clothes and make-up, the one the boys liked.
We ate and drank and then played a silly game of deck quoits, where luckily you didn't need much skill at all. Then Cookie and Colin and I went down the beach near the sea where the sand was firm and started making a giant boat with some old spades that had been propped up inside the beach hut. Colin dug wildly of course, flinging sand over his shoulder, but he had bags of energy and got a lot done. Cookie was good at organizing the shape of the boat, smoothing and sculpting carefully. I wandered around collecting shells to stud the sides of the boat and carved stylized waves all around it.
It took us hours but it was a truly magnificent boat by the time we'd finished it. We clambered gingerly inside on the sand seat, begging Colin to be extra careful. Then the three of us sat there, feeling proud and yet a little foolish too, because we weren't children any more.
'What are we supposed to do now?' said Cookie.
'We row the boat to China,' said Colin, using his spade like an oar.
We all three rowed wildly, singing the Row-row-row- your-boat song, waiting for the sea to come splashing up around us.
'I wish we could keep it. It's a magnificent boat,' I said wistfully.
'We can build another boat tomorrow,' said Cookie.
'Yeah, we'll build an even bigger boat tomorrow,' said Colin. 'A houseboat, with a proper room inside, with beds and benches and all sorts.'
'No, no, a cruiser the length of the beach,' said Cookie.
'Like the Queen Elizabeth. Only we'll call it the Queen Jacky!' said Colin, cackling with laughter.
Cookie came with us back to the hotel. 'I wish I was staying here too,' he said.
'Yeah, I shall have Jacky all to myself every evening and every morning before breakfast.' Colin thumped his chest Tarzan-style and gave a loud jungle yodel.
I shook my head at him. 'Idiot!' Then I looked at Cookie. 'See you tomorrow then?'
I saw him every single day. I wanted to stay with them all the time but I was forced to go on all the outings Biddy and Grace had planned, though I always had several hours on the beach with Cookie and Colin. I plucked up the courage to go swimming with them – at least I could retire into the beach hut to change into my costume, rather than struggling inelegantly under a towel.
I blushed as I stepped outside in my blue and white swimming costume. It suddenly seemed much too skimpy and revealing. Colin wolf-whistled, inevitably, but Cookie smiled at me and held out his hand to take me down to the sea. We ran right into the water and started jumping each wave and then diving like otters until our eyes were stinging with the salt.
We queued at the surf shack another day and I showed off my surfboard skills to both boys, and then we went back to the beach hut and wrapped ourselves in big towels and ate sandwiches from the Oxo tin.
Biddy was worried that the Cooksons might think I was sponging off them, so she gave me money to treat everyone to ice creams. Mrs Cookson invited Biddy and Harry and Ron and Grace to the beach hut and the adults all had a cup of tea together while we fidgeted and fussed, and then declared we were going off for a walk.
We splashed along at the sea's edge, Colin and Cookie often wrestling and fooling around or telling idiotic jokes or making stupid noises. I'd get impatient and think, What am I doing here with these two loonies? and I'd wish myself back with my books and my journal. Then Cookie would suddenly take my hand or Colin would say something so utterly silly I'd burst out laughing, and I'd realize I wanted to be with them more than anyone else in the world.
Well . . . I liked Colin very much, fool that he was, but I liked Cookie much more. Whenever Colin whooped off by himself for a minute or two we talked hurriedly, suddenly serious. Once or twice Cookie said, 'Let's push off, just you and me, just for a little while, please.'
'But what about Colin? Wouldn't it hurt his feelings if we push off by ourselves?' I asked anxiously.
'Oh, never mind Colin,' said Cookie – but he was just as concerned about upsetting him as I was. We stayed a threesome all week.
We went exploring in the caves one afternoon. I was initially disappointed. They were damp and chilly and rather smelly. Every now and then you slipped on empty crisp packets or tripped over beer bottles. Still, it was fun feeling our way through all the winding passages. There was always a thrilling clutch of fear that we would get totally lost and end up going further and furthe
r into the dark interior. The constant drip of water from the roof made me wonder if the sea could possibly suddenly come surging in . . .
Colin was very taken up by the echo possibilities in the caves and went running ahead, yodelling enthusiastically. I sighed and went to follow him, but Cookie held onto me, steering me round a rocky boulder. He didn't say anything. He just put his arms round me and bent his head and kissed me. I kissed him back, clinging to him, and for a few moments we were lost in our world – but then a manic cry circled round our heads: 'Jackyyyyyyyy – Cookieeeeeeee!' We laughed and went to find Colin.
I spent far more time with Colin than with Cookie, because we had our evening meal back at the hotel. I got changed quickly and went down to the recreation room, where Colin and I played endless games of ping-pong, plus a silly version of Snakes and Ladders, going up every snake and down every ladder.
There was a special dance at our hotel on Friday evening.
'So I'll be dancing with Jacky all evening,' Colin crowed triumphantly.
'No, I will,' said Cookie. 'I'll come to the dance.'
'It's meant to be for residents only,' said Colin.
'And their guests,' said Cookie firmly. He looked me in the eye. 'I'm definitely coming.'
I didn't fool around playing games with Colin on Friday before dinner. I locked myself in the communal bathroom, ignoring the rattles on the door from the other guests. I washed all the salt out of my hair and had a quick bath. Then, back in my room, I changed into my white dress with the apricot sash. I was really brown now so it looked good on me. I didn't bother with much make-up, just mascara and lipstick. I stared at myself in the mirror. It was as if I was looking at a girl in a picture, not me. I seemed to have stepped out of myself into a strange new girl who totally startled me. I clutched the edge of the mirror, wanting to hang onto myself in this moment.
I could barely eat my dinner I felt so excited. We all went into the ballroom and sat at little gilt tables around the edges of the room. I sat with Biddy and Harry and Ron and Grace. Ron bought us all a round of drinks and started clowning about. Biddy laughed at his antics, but Harry and Grace stayed po-faced. I think they were both glad we were going home tomorrow. Biddy and Ron were probably sad. And I was desperate. I wanted to stay here in Newquay with Cookie for ever.
I kept peering all round the room for him but he wasn't there. People started plucking up the courage to dance. I did a waltz with Harry, a quickstep with silly twiddly bits with Ron. Colin clearly wasn't up to any kind of ballroom dancing, but he came charging across the room when they announced a jiving session. He couldn't actually jive either, but he jerked around and clicked his fingers and kicked his legs while I circled him, spinning round until I was dizzy.
I leaned against the wall, the room still spinning even though I was still, and saw Cookie walking calmly through the French windows at the end of the room, in a white shirt and black trousers, his hair gleaming gold.
I rubbed my eyes, wondering if I was just imagining him, but he came right up to me, smiling.
'Hello, Jacky. Do you want to dance?' he said.
I danced with him for the rest of the evening. Whenever there was a jiving session Colin joined in too, the three of us gyrating on the spot in our odd trio.
Then I danced a slow foxtrot with Cookie, the two of us shuffling gently about the room. His arms were round my waist, my cheek was touching his, but we couldn't get really close in front of everyone, especially not Biddy and Harry.
'Shall we go outside for a bit?' Cookie whispered into my ear.
I nodded. We simply held hands and walked through the French windows into the hotel garden. It was so cool and quiet there after the noise and clamour of the dance floor. We stood still, breathing in the sweet smells of stocks and roses. But then we heard giggling behind us, and another couple stumbled out into the garden too.
'Let's go for a little walk,' said Cookie. 'Shall we go to the beach?'
'Yes, let's,' I said.
I didn't go back to tell Biddy where I was going. We simply linked fingers and walked out of the garden, down the road, towards the sea. We looked up at the moon and tried counting the stars.
'Do you know what they're all called?' Cookie asked.
'Well, that's the Pole Star,' I said, peering up at the brightest and biggest star. 'And could that be the Great Bear, that cluster there? And I think that's the Pleiades, seven stars together, the smallest in the sky. One of them's called Maia.'
'You've been reading an astronomy book.'
'No, it's Mary Poppins. Maia was my favourite character,' I said. 'Did you read it, Cookie?'
'I think my sister did. I read the Jennings books. And William. They didn't tell you about stars. I know all about space though, from Dan Dare in the Eagle comic.'
'Well, we're both well-informed then,' I said as we got to the beach.
The sea sucked at the sands, the shushing sound seeming louder at night. I slipped off my heels and stepped onto the beach.
'The sand feels so much colder now,' I said.
'We won't go for a paddle then, we don't want to freeze,' said Cookie. 'You're not too cold now, are you, Jacky?' He put his arm round me. 'Here, I'll warm you up a bit.'
'I'm fine,' I said, snuggling into him. 'This is lovely. I've never been for a moonlit walk before.' 'I like walking in the dark. There's this graveyard near where I live. When I was a little kid it spooked me out and I thought there were all these ghosts hanging round the gravestones. I felt embarrassed I was so scared. I even had nightmares about it, so one day I forced myself to go there by myself. I was actually shaking like a leaf, but when I got in the graveyard it was fine. It was so peaceful, and I just walked around touching all the gravestones, and ever since then I like to cut through the graveyard and have a little quiet time there. Do you think I'm a bit crazy?'
'No, I think you're the most interesting boy I've ever met,' I said truthfully.
'No, I'm not, I can't be – but you're definitely the most interesting girl I've ever met,' said Cookie, and he stopped and kissed me.
We didn't quite have the beach to ourselves. There was a dim glow from a barbecue party down at one end, and several mad surfers were yelling in the water.
'Come with me,' said Cookie, and we went into the caves.
It was so dark I couldn't see anything at all. I had to cling to Cookie and he clung to me, and then we were kissing and whispering and wishing we could stay there for ever.
Neither of us had watches. It was very very late when we eventually walked back up the beach towards the hotel.
'So I suppose this is goodbye,' Cookie said.
'Oh, I wish it wasn't,' I said, putting my arms round his neck.
'I've scribbled my address – here,' said Cookie, tucking a piece of paper into my pocket. 'Will you write to me?'
'Of course I will!'
'And we'll maybe meet up again next summer?'
"Yes!'
'And you won't ever forget me?'
'I'll never ever forget you,' I said, and then we kissed goodbye for the last time.
I did write to him, of course, a long long letter, page after page of my innermost thoughts. He wrote back to me, just two sides of paper, but he addressed me as 'Darling Jacky' and signed it 'Love from Cookie'.
I wrote again. I had to wait a week or more before I got an answer, just a postcard this time, with a lot of boring stuff about his school. I wrote a proper letter – and then another – and another. Eventually I got a letter back – from his mother! She was very sweet, and said how the whole family had enjoyed meeting me and that Cookie was very fond of me – 'but I'm afraid he's not very good at writing letters'.
I wrote back to thank her. And that was it. I never heard from Cookie again, and we didn't go back to Cornwall the following summer. I was heartbroken. So what did I do? I wrote about it.
The next year I started a new, more elaborate journal. I wrote in it in February 1961:
Ever since last Summer I
've been trying to write a novel. This was vaguely based on last summer holiday, and dealt with Cookie in detail. I was convinced that I was writing what was to become a great classic, and dabbled around with it at the weekends and in the evenings. I now know that it was only very adolescent escapism. I had no boyfriend or anything, and in the Summer I had spent a nice week with Cookie, so I unconsciously comforted myself by my very infantile book about my 'adult' experience.
I was pretty hard on myself! I wish I still had that story now. Later, in April, writing in my diary I said:
Hello. I've nothing much to write about as today was so quiet and ordinary, so I'll write down anything that comes into my head. The nice thing about keeping this diary is that I write about everything without being laughed at; I can write down secrets with no fear of them being told; I can just scribble away to my heart's content. I don't even have to worry about writing or spelling because I don't mind a bit if I'm untidy. You get a lovely sense of freedom this way. It's funny, I'm getting very enthusiastic about diary writing, and yet when I was on holiday I decided to give it up. I'm still terribly conceited – I thought I would write a full length novel based on my Bruges holiday [a school trip that Easter, my first time abroad]. All this time and I'm still not cured. After several attempts to begin I wisely admitted defeat and returned to you. But I'm still not crushed – I'm going to write a book, but not yet, because 15 is too young, too immature. After all, I wanted to write a book at 14, about last summer. I thought I knew it all; now my attitude has changed completely and I feel much more grown up, and yet not so superior. I know I'm just a silly little fool, probably with absolutely no gift for writing at all, yet that doesn't prevent me from trying. I've got to be a writer and nothing else.
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