Midsummer Meltdown

by Cathy Hopkins

  And then he kissed me on the lips.

  OLLIE CORNERED ME the moment I got back to the hotel. He reeked of beer.

  ‘So what’s going on with Cat and Jamie?’ he asked grumpily.

  ‘Dunno. Ask Jamie. He’s your friend.’

  Ollie grunted. ‘Humph. Then I’ll look like a real prat. Best mate gets off with my girlfriend.’

  ‘Your girlfriend? Er . . . reality check. Since when?’

  ‘I’ve always liked Cat. You know that.’

  ‘And a million others. Like, what about that girl from London?’

  ‘I never lied about what I was like.’

  ‘That’s true. So it’s your own fault then,’ I said. ‘It’s your choice to be the playboy of the western world. I mean, how many times have you told Cat that you like her but aren’t into commitment.’

  ‘It’s true. I’m not into commitment. And neither should Cat be. You miss out on too much if you tie yourself down at our age. And that goes for you too. You know Michael fancies you, don’t you?’

  ‘Does he?’ I asked, hoping that I looked cooler than I felt.

  ‘Yeah. But you’ve only got eyes for that Squidge. Cat used to go out with Squidge, you know. You should go out with more boys. Live a little. You don’t have to get tied down so young. I mean, you’re only . . . what are you?’

  ‘Fourteen. Are you drunk?’

  ‘Evewee-bodee should just have a good time. So where is Cat?’

  I laughed. ‘Ollie, the “I’m not into commitment” line doesn’t just apply to Ollie Axford, you know. Maybe she’s listened to what you had to say and she’s following your advice and hanging out with Jamie because of it.’

  A look of confusion flashed across his face. ‘Uh? But I meant that she shouldn’t expect me to be committed to her. Not that I thought she should play the field. Huh.’

  ‘Poor Ollie. You expected her to just sit around until you happened to glance her way. She has a life, you know.’

  ‘Yeah. Hmpff . . .’ said Ollie. He flounced off, then turned back. ‘She wants me, you know . . .’ he slurred. ‘She really wants me . . .’

  He zig-zagged across the corridor and I hoped he had the good sense to go straight to bed as Ollie doesn’t drink a lot normally. At least he didn’t ask any awkward questions about Michael, I thought, but then knowing Ollie and how self-absorbed he can be sometimes, he probably never even noticed that his mate had kissed his sister under his nose.

  I carried on into my room, checked my mobile in case there were any messages from Squidge (there weren’t), fell into bed and was asleep in seconds.

  Next thing I knew, someone was gently shaking me awake.

  ‘Lia, Lia . . .’

  It was Cat. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. ‘Wha–’

  She sat on the end of my bed. ‘So?’ she asked.

  Becca appeared behind her then went round to sit on the other side. ‘Yeah. So?’ she asked.

  I knew it had been too good to last. I might have been able to avoid questions from my brother but I should have known better than to think my two mates wouldn’t interrogate me.

  ‘And so to you two as well,’ I replied. ‘Where do you think you’ve been? I’ve been in bed for ages.’

  ‘What happened with Michael?’ asked Becca. ‘We saw you ki–’

  ‘Not really . . .’

  ‘Looked that way to me,’ said Becca. ‘I’ve been dying to get back here and ask you but Henry wanted to have an . . . um . . . a late-night walk.’

  ‘And what’s your excuse, Cat?’ I asked.

  ‘You sound like my dad,’ she said with a grin. ‘Er. Jamie. Moonlight walk. You know how it is.’

  ‘Yeah and so does Ollie. He’s not very happy. He cornered me on the way in and he was well grumpy.’

  Cat shrugged. ‘Ollie has made it very clear in the past that he likes to be a free agent. Two can play at that game. Actually, no. I’m not playing a game. I like Jamie. He’s great company and, as Ollie keeps saying, we’re not in a serious relationship so that means that I’m a free agent too. Besides, Jamie’s a good snogger.’

  ‘Never mind Ollie and Jamie,’ said Becca. ‘What about Michael? What about Squidge?’

  ‘Start with Michael,’ said Cat. ‘He got you on your own again. I’m sorry I wasn’t more of a chaperone at the Fantasia but it was all so . . .’

  ‘Not your fault,’ I interrupted. ‘Other things to occupy you. So, um, yeah, Michael. He’s a great guy and he gave me some really good advice about my confusion about what I want to do when I leave school.’

  ‘Advice? Confusion?’ blurted Becca. ‘When was this?’

  ‘On the coach,’ I said. ‘He gave me some advice on the coach on the way back.’

  ‘No. The confusion? What confusion?’ asked Becca, who was starting to look really confused herself.

  ‘Mine. About what I’m going to do with my life.’

  ‘Your life? Duh? No. Go back a bit,’ said Becca. ‘Never mind advice. What about the snogging?’

  ‘But he did give me advice,’ I said. ‘He said that if I want to be a vet, I should go and do a few weeks’ work experience in a clinic. I’ll soon find out if I’m suited or not. Same with any job. Ask around. Then go and try it out.’

  ‘Mmm, sound advice,’ said Cat, settling in on the end of the bed so I threw her one of my pillows. ‘What does he want to do?’

  ‘Journalist. But at first he wanted to be a doctor. He was so funny about it. Said he thought it would be all glam, swanning about in a white coat having people look up to him. Said the reality is waaay different. No sleep, hard work and no time off.’

  ‘So he wanted to be a doctor so he could pose?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Sort of,’ I said.

  I knew we were winding Becca up like mad as she was sitting on her side of the bed watching Cat and me like she was watching a tennis ball go back and forth at a tennis match. I knew she was going to burst at any moment.

  ‘Well, I’m really glad he found out that it wasn’t for him before it was too late,’ said Cat. ‘Can you imagine someone going in with a pain or illness and he’d be there saying, OK, but just a minute, let me fix my hair! And lie down over there but make sure when you look up, you get my good profile . . .’

  We started laughing and Becca finally cracked. ‘It’s two in the morning and you two are sitting here discussing a boy’s career prospects! Are you insane? You’ve clearly both been drinking too much of that mint tea. Listen. Michael. Last seen snogging you at the firework display? And then sitting in the back of the coach as cosy as anything on the way back? That’s what I want to hear about. Not if he’s going to star in ER or not, Lia. Details. Please. I feel like I’ve missed an episode of my favourite soap and suddenly the plot’s moved on and I don’t know what’s happening.’ She rolled on to her side and groaned. ‘Put me out of my misery.’

  ‘Not that much happened really. OK, here’s the story. For the briefest, briefest second when Michael kissed me, I responded. Only for a nanosecond. It soon became clear that much as I have fancied him in the past, it wasn’t the same as kissing Squidge, so I pulled back. When he asked what the matter was, I told him the truth. I explained that there we were under the stars. And miles away was Squidge under the same stars but in hospital. Different countries but same stars.’

  ‘Ahhh, that’s so romantic,’ said Becca.

  ‘And I couldn’t be disloyal to him,’ I continued. ‘We have something really special and I didn’t want to cheat on him.’

  ‘How did Michael take that?’ asked Cat.

  ‘He was quiet for a while and at first I thought he was going to be mad at me but then he smiled and said, Good for you, Lia. He said he understood and even admired me for it. He said that Squidge is a really lucky man and he wished he could find someone who would be as true to him in the circumstances we’ve been in. I guess he meant here. I mean all the fabulous locations we’ve been in during the last couple of days. I knew what he meant. It hasn’t been easy
at times but in a way it’s all served to make me realise how strong my feelings for Squidge really are.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Becca. ‘You and Squidge are soulmates.’

  It had been amazing with Michael. And sad, in a way. I replayed the last moments in my head. I didn’t want to tell Cat and Becca everything that he said because I felt that it was private between me and him. Michael had put his hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. ‘Me and you?’ he’d said. ‘Bad timing, I suppose. I should have nabbed you when you were nine and really into me . . .’

  ‘When I was nine?’ I’d said. ‘So you knew I had a crush on you? Oh God, nooooo. How embarrassing.’

  ‘Nah. You were sweet. Really sweet. And then when I saw you again last year. All grown up. Remember when I came down with Usha? Umph. She gave me such a hard time about you but I swore to her that nothing had ever happened. But . . . ah well. Maybe some day, hey? A few years down the line?’

  ‘You never know.’

  Michael had leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Later.’

  I’d taken his hand and squeezed it. ‘Later.’

  Cat and Becca got up to get ready for bed when there was a noise at the door. It sounded as though someone had fallen over in the corridor outside our room. Becca got up to see what or who it was and, when she opened the door, there on his knees with his hair all squiffy was Ollie.

  ‘Where Ca–?’ he slurred.

  Cat quickly ducked down behind the bed.

  ‘Oh,’ said Becca. ‘She’s in bed. And I suggest that’s where you go to.’

  ‘She wants me, you know,’ he said with his lopsided grin.

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ asked Becca, going into her prefect act.

  ‘Yeah . . . no . . . a liryl . . .’

  ‘You’re a very bad boy, Ollie Axford. Now go to bed.’

  ‘OK buh . . . Cat . . . She wants me, you know . . .’

  Cat and I were having a hard time not laughing out loud as Ollie did sound funny.

  ‘Yeah. Sure,’ said Becca. ‘I know. Cat wants you. But not now. Now go to bed.’

  ‘She gus, you know.’

  ‘Off you go now, Ollie. Good boy.’

  Ollie sat back on his heels. ‘Do you want me?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure. Everyone wants you, Ollie. Now go to bed.’

  ‘Want to come too?’

  It was at this point that I decided that maybe Becca needed help.

  ‘You stay here,’ I whispered to Cat then went out into the corridor to find that by now Ollie had flopped over on his side and had curled up ready to sleep in the corridor.

  ‘Evewee wants me . . .’ he murmured then stuck his thumb in his mouth like a baby.

  ‘Playboy of the western world,’ I said.

  ‘Get your camera,’ whispered Becca.

  I tiptoed back into the room, found the camera and quickly snapped a shot. ‘Be great blackmail material,’ I laughed.

  ‘Yeah,’ whispered Becca. ‘We could post it on the Internet with a note saying, Does anybody recognise this boy?’

  Ollie began to stir then reached for my ankles. ‘Cat . . .’

  I nodded at Becca and she went to his front and grabbed one of his wrists. I got the other and between us we managed to drag him back to the boys’ room, where we knocked then left him propped up against the door like a puppet without its strings.

  ‘HI, SQUIDGE. THIS IS LIA AGAIN,’ I said into my mobile. ‘Please call as soon as you can. We all miss you like crazy and wish you were here. Hope you’re feeling better and everyone sends their love.’

  ‘He must still be in the hospital,’ said Cat from across the table, where she was spreading a croissant with apricot jam. ‘Otherwise he would have called.’

  ‘And he can’t hobble outside to use his mobile,’ said Becca as she sipped her fresh orange juice, ‘not with a broken leg.’

  ‘I guess,’ I agreed. But inside I felt that something was wrong. I was about to call Squidge’s parents when Mum arrived at our table.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Where is everyone this morning?’ I asked as I indicated the half-empty dining room.

  She laughed. ‘Some are hung over from last night so still in bed. Some have already gone off on the mountain trip. And the others are getting ready for Essaouira.’

  ‘Ollie?’

  ‘Dead to the world,’ said Mum. ‘Serves him right too. Stupid boy.’

  ‘Are you mad with him?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘He’ll learn the hard way. He is almost eighteen, after all,’ she said. ‘Anyway, seems he wasn’t the only one who had a few too many last night. Jamie and Henry don’t seem to be quite with it this morning either.’

  ‘But I thought the boys were going up to the mountains?’

  Mum shook her head. ‘The guide left over an hour ago with the guests who were up in time for that trip. No, I think Ollie and Henry and Jamie won’t be going any further than their bedroom this morning.’

  ‘And Michael?’

  ‘He’s fine. He’s coming to Essaouira with us. He’s such a nice boy, don’t you think?’

  ‘Oh not you too, Mum.’

  ‘Not me too what?’

  ‘Michael. Just about every member of my family has hinted that Michael and I should go out or something. You, Ollie, Dad. I’m with Squidge. Sometimes I think you don’t take that seriously.’

  Mum put her hand on my arm. ‘Yes we do. Squidge is a nice boy too and I wasn’t insinuating anything about Michael, not really. Just . . . well, you’re still young, Lia, with a whole world of boys to go out with . . .’

  ‘I quite agree,’ said Becca. ‘The more the merrier.’

  It was Cat who came to my defence. ‘Yes, but Lia and Squidge have something special,’ she said.

  At that moment, Michael came in and waved from the other side of the dining room. I waved back. I hoped that it would be OK if we spent the day together. Although the air had been cleared between us after our conversation last night, I still wasn’t sure that I would ever be totally relaxed with him. One thing I had realised though and that was that Squidge had been right. Michael and I were from the same type of background and we were very alike. And that was why we would never work as a couple. We were too alike. Two peas in a pod. Boring. Squidge and I were like chalk and cheese. He was outgoing. I was quiet. We were a classic case of opposites attract. Anyway, I thought, it was the last day of the trip and this evening I’d be back with Squidge and any dangerous encounters with Michael Bradley in romantic settings would be well behind me.

  We set out for the seaside half an hour later and the journey took almost two hours. Part of me would have liked to have stayed in Marrakech but I knew that Squidge had particularly wanted to see Essaouira as it had been used as a location in a number of movies, the most famous being Othello, Kingdom of Heaven, Troy and Alexander. I had to go for Squidge and take what pictures I could for him.

  We had a great day there. After the hustle bustle of Marrakech, it provided the perfect contrast. Essaouira was a gentler place with a cooler climate due to the breeze that blew in from the Atlantic and through the warren of lanes and alleyways inside the walled town. Outside the walls was a pretty fishing port and to the left a long wide sandy beach. After a fab lunch of fresh fish at a café on the beach, we walked by the sea and then explored the souks and stalls, while Dad looked around to see if he recognised any of it from his childhood. I needn’t have worried about Michael being with us. He was totally cool. He chatted away to Mum and Dad and was warm and friendly with me but had stopped giving me the intense stares like he had earlier on the trip. I think he’d accepted that nothing was going to happen between us.

  I particularly loved the town as everywhere there were cats and kittens. On every corner, under tables, under chairs and basking in the sun, it seemed that there were as many of them as people! And it seemed as if they were well looked after as more than once we saw people putting out bits of fish for the kittens to come and munch on.

  ‘That’
s just what I feel like doing,’ said Mum as we saw one white and ginger cat lying on its back on a white wall.

  Mid-afternoon we went up to the fort area to explore and as the others went off to look at some of the pottery on sale in one of the arches there, I took some photos of the row of ancient cannons lined up on the castle wall. I was amazed that so many of them had survived. I sat on the wall next to one of the cannons and pulled out my mobile to see if there were any messages. There was a text from Ollie: %*@:-( SORRY (meaning ‘I am hungover with a headache’), but nothing from Squidge. I decided I’d to call his home number and see if I could find out anything from his mum.

  Mrs Squires picked up immediately. ‘Lia! That you? Are you home?’

  ‘No, I’m still in Morocco.’

  ‘No! Amazing. You’re calling from Morocco?’

  ‘Yes. I was wondering how Squidge is?’

  ‘Oh, a lot better since he got home. He was going out of his mind with boredom being cooped up in the hospital . . .’

  ‘He’s home? But . . . when?’

  ‘We brought him back yesterday, late afternoon.’

  ‘Can I speak to him?’

  ‘Sure. I’ll take the phone in to him.’

  The line went quiet for a few minutes and then Mrs Squires came back on. ‘Er . . . Lia, love. He says he’ll talk to you when you’re back.’

  ‘But why won’t he talk to me now?’

  He’s in the downstairs cloakroom. He’ll probably call you when he’s out.’

  ‘Oh. OK. But he is all right?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh yes. He’s fine,’ said Mrs Squires. ‘Don’t you worry yourself. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

  After I’d put the phone down, I felt puzzled. Why hadn’t Squidge called yesterday as soon as he’d got out of hospital? I’d left enough messages asking him to let me know the moment they released him. I knew that mobiles weren’t allowed in the hospital and no way would they let him call Morocco from the ward phone but if he was home, he could have. And I could have sent him photos on my phone. He’d have loved the unspoilt look of Essaouira; it was a film director’s dream of a location and, having been there, I could understand why it had been used in so many movies. Squidge knew I had my photo phone with me. Why didn’t he want to see where I was? A horrible feeling hit my stomach and even though the sun was beating down, I felt a shiver of cold. The signs weren’t good. Something had happened.