Summer of '76

by Ashdown, Isabel

  ‘Simon Drake, you mean?’

  ‘Of course I mean Simon.’

  ‘You’ve got a family, Richard! Simon’s never out of that damned garage of yours, drinking our beer and carping on about his marital problems. As if we don’t have enough of our own to deal with! He might as well move in, the amount of time he’s been spending here lately. I only asked you to cut it back a bit! It’s not good for us – it’s not good for Kitty. Believe it or not, we’d like to spend some time with you too.’

  Dad shakes his head. ‘I work hard all week long, and all I ask of you is that I can have a bit of peace and quiet every four years, to watch the Olympics.’

  ‘All you ask of me? If only!’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She looks at Luke, glaring at him when she sees him chewing on his sandwich, listening in. She turns back to Dad. ‘Every four years, you say? Aren’t you forgetting the weekly football? The cricket coverage? The snooker?’

  ‘The wrestling,’ Luke chimes in.

  Dad shoots him a petulant glance.

  ‘Yes, Richard, you go out to work, but don’t you think I’d rather go out to work than stay at home washing your dirty socks, cooking your meals, cleaning your house –’

  ‘Ha! Cleaning the house? Can’t see that you do a very good job of it.’ He runs his finger along the hood of the cooker and holds it up as if he’s just won the battle.

  Mum’s jaw drops and she’s about to launch into her defence when they hear Diana calling in through the open front door.

  ‘Coo-eee! Anyone home?’

  Mum throws Dad one last scornful glance, and picks up her handbag. ‘So, I’ll be home about four or five. Just make sure Kitty has something to eat at lunchtime and she’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.’ She leaves, slamming the front door behind her.

  Dad shakes his head as he pushes past Luke and stomps into the living room to turn on the television. ‘Thanks, son. Thanks very much.’

  ‘What?’ Luke mutters, shaking his own head in response. He fetches his uniform from his bedroom and goes straight next door to call on Tom for his lift. He doesn’t need to get going for another half-hour, but he can’t stand to hang around here a minute longer than he has to.

  As Tom starts the engine, Luke gazes back at the house, where he sees Kitty standing on the front doorstep clutching her blue elephant, her little hand raised forlornly. He waves from the car window, and Kitty turns and disappears through the open front door.

  The day at work passes in a flurry of hot activity, as everyone in the camp gears up in preparation for the school holidays. Luke meets Gordon and Sam at Housekeeping, where they check their schedule and collect their kit, and Tom leaves them for his day’s work in the kitchens.

  ‘Don’t forget to give Cheffy a big kiss from me,’ Gordon calls after him, as Tom swaggers along the path, his thumbs hooked in his pockets. ‘A dirty big one,’ he adds with a laugh.

  Tom looks back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow over his dark shades. Just yesterday, Chef kicked Gordon out of the kitchen when he called for Tom at the end of their shift, calling him a dirty little faggot. ‘Your lot disgust me,’ Chef said, according to Gordon, and Tom had pushed back his sleeves, ready to take him on. But Gordon wouldn’t hear of it, told him it wasn’t worth losing his job over, and managed to drag Tom away to cool off at the pool. Tom says Chef’s a Nazi, the way he orders them about and makes them all wait on him when it’s time for his break.

  Now, Tom reaches the end of the path and turns the corner, disappearing into the shadows of the kitchen block.

  Today they’ve got more rooms than usual to get through and so they work at double speed, with minimum chat, Luke and Sam on the cleaning, Gordon on the beds. It’s hard going in the blistering heat, even in the shade of the chalets, and by the end of their shift Luke’s exhausted, sweaty, and ready to go home. After they’ve dropped off their kit, the trio creep alongside the kitchen windows, trying to spy Tom inside without getting caught by Chef Cockgobbler, as Gordon has rechristened him.

  ‘Tom,’ Luke hisses through the open window, when they spot him serving up at the hob.

  Tom checks his watch and jogs over, talking in a whisper. ‘I’ll only be a sec,’ he says, nodding at the plate in his hand. ‘Just getting Mein Führer’s supper.’ He reaches over for a bread roll.

  ‘Is that for him?’ Gordon asks. Tom nods, and Gordon lunges through the window to grab the roll, sticking it up his T-shirt and rubbing it liberally beneath his armpit.

  ‘That’s disgusting, man,’ says Luke, grabbing it off him and doing the same. He passes it to Sam to repeat the process, who then returns the bread roll to Tom.

  He shakes his head, looking unimpressed. ‘Man, that’s just wrong.’ He looks over his shoulder before shoving it down his trouser front for a good jiggle, finally placing it ceremoniously on the edge of Chef’s plate. ‘Bon appétit.’ He spins on his heel and pushes through the double doors to the dining hall, to hand over Chef’s supper.

  Shrill with laughter, Gordon and Sam sprint off to the pool together, waving back at Luke as they go. The afternoon sun is still scorching, and, instead of hanging around at the car while Tom finishes up, Luke decides to call in at the managers’ office to collect his wages. He knocks once and eases the half-open door into the office, where Philip is sitting behind the desk in his swivel chair, rosy-cheeked with the heat, drumming his fingers to a track on the radio. He sways his upper body in time, while Suzy sits slumped on the bench beside the window, glugging back a can of Coke.

  ‘Luke Wolff!’ Philip says, making it sound like they’re long-lost friends. Suzy looks Luke up and down and jerks her chin briefly as Philip riffles through the pay packets, his head never missing a beat. Luke stands awkwardly beside the desk, his fingers resting on the edge, while Philip continues to search. ‘How’s your friend Tom getting on in the kitchens?’ he asks, smirking at Suzy.

  ‘Fine,’ Luke replies. ‘I think he gets on quite well with Chef.’

  ‘Good, good. I hear he got on quite well with you too, Suzy. Isn’t that right?’ He snorts to himself, as Suzy throws a ball of paper across the room.

  Luke is about to tell Philip he’ll come back for his wages tomorrow when finally he locates the envelope, holds it aloft and waves it in the air like a drumstick, to mark the final notes of the song. He hands it to Luke.

  ‘Suppose I should get going in a moment,’ Suzy says, sounding bored, not making any effort to move. The sunlight streams in behind her, accenting her shiny, uneven complexion, and Luke wonders if this is what they do all day in the duty office: just push bits of paper around and air-drum to the latest top twenty hits. Suzy gives him a puzzled look, a kind of what-are-you-waiting-for expression, and he backs out of the hut and leaves them to it.

  The afternoon’s rays are beating down hard now, and beads of sweat quickly rise to his brow as he pauses to lean against the wooden handrail and check his wages. Beneath his plimsolls he can feel the bottom tread of the wooden step, smoothly curved, worn down at the midpoint through years of use. He absently runs his hand across it as he stoops to pick up a dropped coin.

  ‘His lot were part of it,’ Suzy says, the words carrying clearly through the crack in the door.

  Luke reaches for the stair rail, his eyes focusing on the heat haze that shimmers over the distant lawns.

  ‘You know. That orgy over at Bembridge. I heard his lot were there. His mum and dad.’

  As his pulse quickens and his heart thuds against his breast-bone, Luke holds on to his breath, too stunned to exhale.

  ‘No way!’ Philip replies. ‘Aren’t they teachers?’

  ‘His dad is – taught me PE in the fourth year. He was alright, as they go. Wouldn’t have put him down as a swinger, though. Apparently these parties have been going on for years.’

  ‘How’d you hear about it?’

  ‘I know John, one of the taxi drivers at Sandown Cabs. He picked them up after t
hat last party – apparently their car wouldn’t start when they went to go home. Anyway, he recognised Mr Wolff from the school. John said the wife was in a bit of a state, couldn’t get out of there quick enough. Maybe he was more into it than she was.’

  ‘Flippin’ ’eck. You just never can tell, can you? I wonder if Luke knows about it, poor bastard. Here – turn the volume up, Suze. I love this one.’

  Luke can feel the burn of the sun across his forearm, where his hand now grips the glistening blue paintwork of the handrail. Beyond the half-closed door Philip whistles tunelessly; Luke stuffs his wage packet into his back pocket and runs across the dusty forecourt towards the car park, where he finds Tom leaning against the car, smoking a cigarette, his face turned towards the sun.

  ‘He ate it,’ Tom guffaws as he pulls out on to the main road. ‘Chef – he ate the bread roll. The whole thing.’ He turns up the volume of the radio, his lop-sided smile curling up at the opening bars of Bowie’s ‘Golden Years’.

  ‘Nice one,’ Luke replies, dropping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. He breathes slow and deep, letting the music wash over him, knowing he has to confront Mum and Dad tonight. There’s no more avoiding it, and the thought of it makes him want to puke. ‘Listen, mate, I’ve got a bit of a headache. Do you mind if we don’t talk?’

  Tom reaches for a fresh matchstick to slot between his teeth. ‘Suit yourself, man,’ he replies, and they wind their way back down towards Sandown, Luke dozing lightly in the warm breeze of the open windows, as the sweat and anxiety of the afternoon pools in the small of his back.

  Back home, he leaves Tom and heads for his front door, just as next door’s car pulls into their driveway. Mum and Diana get out, Mum with one small carrier bag, Diana laden down with several.

  ‘Cooee!’ Diana calls over to Luke. ‘Did you boys have a good day together?’

  He nods, waiting for Mum as she says goodbye to Diana and walks back round the gate and into their front drive. Luke holds the door open for her and they go through the hallway together to find Dad still watching the Olympics in the living room. The curtains are drawn to keep the sunlight off the television screen, and an empty beer bottle sits on the floor beside his armchair. It looks as though he hasn’t moved for hours.

  ‘Oh, you’re back,’ he says idly, rubbing his eyes as if he’s just woken up. ‘Get anything nice?’

  Mum holds up her carrier bag. ‘Not much. Just a new pair of shorts and some underwear.’

  ‘Cor! Let’s have a look, then!’ Dad says with a lecherous chortle as she snatches the bag away.

  Luke’s stomach contracts as he wonders how to tackle the subject of the parties. He stares at them a moment, before sighing deeply and throwing open the curtains to let the afternoon light in.

  ‘God, Dad, it’s like a morgue in here. I swear you haven’t moved since I left for work this morning.’

  ‘He’s right,’ says Mum. ‘Have you been sitting indoors all day?’

  ‘It’s the Olympics!’ Dad replies. ‘Once every four years!’

  Luke pushes open the French doors that lead out into the garden, frowning hard. ‘Poor Kitty. She must have been bored out of her mind.’ He turns back to Dad, who at once looks startled.

  Mum’s face alters. ‘Richard? Where’s Kitty?’

  Abruptly, he leaves his seat, striding out into the garden. ‘I expect she’s just playing nicely out here –’ He returns. ‘What about the bedroom?’ he says, his voice giving away his nerves.

  ‘Kitty!’ Mum yells, her panic immediate. ‘Kitty!’

  Individually they hurry about the house, calling her name, pulling open cupboards and searching under beds.

  ‘Kitty! It’s not funny any more!’ Dad shouts at the top of his voice. He stands in the hallway, his jaw slack, a film of sweat forming across his brow. ‘Kitty? Come out NOW!’

  Mum clasps her hands beneath her chin, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘She’s not here, Richard,’ she gasps. ‘Where is she?’

  They all rush to the front garden, and stand at the open gate, frantically looking up and down the road.

  ‘Get the Michaelses,’ Mum whispers, and Dad sprints over the wall and across their lawn, returning seconds later with Mike, Diana and Tom. The men stand in next door’s garden, on the other side of the low wall, as Diana dashes down the path to comfort Mum.

  ‘You’ve lost Kitty?’ Mike asks in his booming voice, a deep crease of concern slicing his forehead.

  Mum’s crying now, her fingers shakily hovering over her mouth. ‘Richard has lost Kitty.’

  Mike reaches over the low wall and rubs her shoulder. He turns to Dad. ‘When did you last see her, Richard?’

  Dad pinches his lip, staring intently at a patch of scrubby grass growing up through the concrete.

  ‘Richard!’ Mum screams. ‘When did you last see her?’

  He shakes his head, his face ashen. ‘Maybe an hour ago? I can’t remember! Christ!’

  ‘Keep a hold of yourself, man,’ Mike says firmly. ‘Has she ever wandered off on her own before?’

  ‘Never!’ Mum is almost panting with fear, and Luke reaches out and nudges her wrist, but she won’t look at him. ‘It’s so hot out here,’ she says, barely a whisper, pushing the heel of her hand up over her sweat-beaded forehead. ‘It’s too hot for her to be out all this time on her own. What if she needs a drink? She’s only four!’

  ‘We’ll find her, Mum,’ Luke says softly.

  Mike massages the back of his ruddy neck, and surveys the gardens and the street beyond. ‘Richard, have you had any visitors at all today?’

  ‘Only the postman,’ he replies. He bends forward, placing his hands on his knees, studying the pavement as if the answer is to be found there.

  Mike slaps his back, causing him to straighten up. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘Well, we saw the postman after he’d been to yours, and there was no sign of Kitty then. What about Simon? I saw him coming out of here this afternoon – he might have seen something?’

  Mum looks up, her expression suddenly severe. ‘Simon Drake was here?’

  Dad darts a guilty glance at her.

  ‘Richard?’

  ‘I didn’t mention it because I knew you’d react like this. He just popped in for an hour or two.’

  Luke looks from one to the other, his mind racing. ‘Dad? What’s wrong with Simon coming round?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he snaps, bringing his flat hand down hard on the wall post. His face is coated in perspiration.

  Mum throws her hands out, her tears now flowing with ease. ‘Nothing? Simon Drake’s been round here – again – drinking beer with you all afternoon, and then Kitty goes missing?’

  ‘Mum, what’s wrong? Simon wouldn’t take her.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake – she just means me spending too much time with him, Luke, not that he’s taken her.’

  ‘Who’s to say he hasn’t?’ She turns fierce eyes on Dad.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘Stop it, Jo!’ Dad shouts angrily, his hands working madly through his hair. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous!’

  Diana stands by, looking confused and helpless, as Mike puffs on a cigarette under the oppressive heat of the sun. He takes a step towards Mum, laying a condescending hand on her shoulder. ‘Come along, Jo. You know Simon wouldn’t do anything like that. Now, let’s try to think straight.’

  ‘All I know is my daughter’s missing, and if she’s not with Simon –’ Mum shrieks, shrugging Mike’s hand from her shoulder ‘– then who –?’ She breaks off, unable to complete the sentence, sinking on to the low wall and covering her face with her hands.

  Dad’s face is suddenly animated. ‘Oh! And Martin called round looking for Luke – about threeish – yes it was half-three, because I told him you were at work, and he said he might call back later on. He might have seen her?’

  ‘Now that’s a different kettle of fish altogether!’ Mike bellows, searching his pockets for his car keys. ‘Why didn’t
you say something before, man?’

  ‘What?’ Luke says, raising his voice and looking from face to face. ‘She’s not with Martin. Bloody hell. Just wait a minute, will you? I’ll go and call him.’ Luke runs back inside and picks up the receiver, dialling the number and listening as it rings and rings at the other end. He can see the others from here, gathered at the gate, a vision of paralysed panic.

  ‘Hello?’ It’s Martin’s dad.

  ‘Oh, Mr Brazier – it’s Luke here. I wondered if Martin was around.’

  There’s an uncomfortable pause at the other end, a heavy sigh. ‘No, he’s not. Haven’t seen him since he went off after lunch. I thought he was going to meet you.’ He sounds less angry than usual; he sounds exhausted.

  ‘OK – thanks. I was out at work. I expect he’s on his way back now.’

  Mr Brazier hangs up. Luke’s pulse is throbbing, and he races back down the path towards expectant faces, shaking his head. ‘He’s not there.’

  Mike Michaels opens his car door and slaps the roof. ‘Right – we need to split into groups to look for them.’

  Mum looks from Mike to Dad. ‘Them?’

  ‘Hang on a second,’ Luke yells, fury rising up in him. ‘You are not seriously suggesting that Martin’s got her?’

  Mike plants his hands on his hips. ‘Look, son. I know he’s your friend, but there’s something very odd about that boy. Seems to me you’re the only one who can’t see it.’

  ‘You are so wrong about this!’ Luke punctuates his words with a pointed finger, as Mum tries to pull him away from the wall.

  ‘Stop!’ she screams, her chest heaving as she fails to suppress her sobs. ‘Why are we all standing here, fighting, when Kitty’s out there on her own…?’ Her voice trails away and she covers her mouth with her hand, hastily turning her back to the rest of the group.

  ‘Or not on her own, as the case may be,’ Mike says gravely, indicating to Tom to climb into the back seat. ‘Richard, you come with us – I’ll drop you and Tom at different points to search along the seafront.’

  Mum catches her breath at the suggestion. ‘She can’t have got as far as the seafront.’