‘Yes,’ I say, looking out across the water. It almost comes out like a sigh. The sand, the sea and the glowing sunset sky are forming hazy, indistinct bars of colour, in the style of a Mark Rothko painting. It really is so beautiful. And somehow Cal manages to look so at home, right in the middle of it. ‘How long do you reckon you’ll stay here?’
‘Probably just until the end of the summer,’ he says. ‘Jack helped me find a short-term let in a flat with a couple of other guys. I’m only responsible for that until the end of September.’ Even less reason to mention this to Daisy. A classic summer romance with a clear expiry date. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about losing when I go to uni. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, stay in the moment, I tell myself. I can’t have my fear of going away polluting tonight as well. ‘I should probably return to my real life, you know?’ he says. ‘I can’t put it off forever. Starting the rest of my life.’ He runs his hands through the thick sweep of dark hair that’s falling over his eyebrow.
And that little thought that just keeps coming back rears its ugly head once again: why is he bothering with me? If he could have Daisy, why not have Daisy instead of me? Maybe it’s just a matter of time until he meets Daisy and realizes he could. But he’s here with me.
The seagulls are swooping overhead, squawking cacophonously. I ask him what his real life looks like, and he tells me about his family in New Zealand, his parents who he thinks are great and his sister who’s an architect and who he describes as the smartest person he knows.
‘What about you? Do you get on with your parents?’
I pause for a second before answering. ‘I don’t really have a dad. But my mum is the best in every way, so I don’t really notice it.’
He nods, thoughtfully. ‘Did you ever have a dad?’
‘Nope. I mean, obviously at some point eighteen years ago I did, but he opted out of the whole … scenario,’ I say, gesturing in the air in an attempt to encompass the general concepts of responsibility and fatherhood. ‘I’ve never met him and I don’t need to. My mum met him when she was travelling before going to university to become a vet. And that’s what she did, even though she had two tiny babies to look after.’
‘Wow … your mum sounds amazing. But also – two?’
‘I have a sister, too. Except she’s my twin sister.’
‘That’s really cool!’ Cal says, and sounds like he means it. ‘I bet she’s not as pretty as you, though,’ he continues, which makes me want to laugh out loud. I manage to suppress that instinct.
‘Oh, I assure you she is. I’ve spent my whole life being made very aware that Daisy is the pretty twin and I’m the dud. But it’s OK, I’m at peace with it,’ I say, dusting my hands off on my lap so I can press my hands together in mock prayer and close my eyes.
‘Hey …’ Cal says, putting his hand on my arm. I open my eyes and see that he looks genuinely pained. ‘I don’t love you talking like that about yourself …’
‘I was mostly joking,’ I say, even though I actually wasn’t. It doesn’t matter how good I am, how good I feel on my own, the world wants me to know that I can’t compete when I’m standing next to Daisy.
Cal moves his hand to my face and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. The setting sun is glinting off his bright blue eyes, making them sparkle like the sea in front of us. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, very, very handsome indeed. And I am possessed by the strong feeling that this very, very handsome guy is about to kiss me.
‘Is it cool if I …’ Cal begins.
‘Yeah,’ I say, nodding. So he kisses me. And it obliterates every drunken party snog, every pointless crush, and every disappointing and underwhelming kiss I’ve ever had. It’s so good that I don’t know how to believe it’s real.
As we’re walking back from the pier towards the high street, a guy crosses our path. He looks kind of dishevelled, possibly homeless, and is carrying a big backpack.
‘Alright, Cal!’ he says, to my great surprise.
‘Alright, Steve!’ Cal replies brightly before the man keeps walking.
‘Friend of yours?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, sort of …’ he replies, shiftily. ‘When it’s quiet at work and my manager isn’t around I let homeless people sit in the foyer. A few people sleep behind the cinema anyway, so what’s the difference to me whether they’re inside or outside, right? I mean, other than that I can do something to make their day a bit less shitty.’
‘Oh …’ I say, smiling. ‘That’s really nice, actually.’ I’m embarrassed of the drily ironic tone I used when I asked if the guy was his friend. Cal’s a better person than I am.
‘I try to make myself useful where I can, you know?’ he says casually.
‘How come you chose the cinema?’
‘Well, it was partly because they were advertising the job and I needed money, but also because I genuinely love films.’
‘What films?’ I ask.
‘I know it sounds weird but I’m really not that fussy – I’ll watch anything.’
‘Anything?’ I repeat, incredulous.
‘Yeah … old MGM musicals, blockbusters that are just released, blaxploitation films, noirs, romcoms – I’m easy!’ Cal says, cheerily. ‘Oh, the only thing I don’t like is realistic violence or gore.’ He shudders at the very thought.
‘So you could watch a giant crocodile chomp a guy in half but you couldn’t watch … say …’ I cast about, trying to think of an example.
‘You know the Tom Hanks film Castaway, right?’
‘Oh sure, you mean the bit where he has to take his own tooth out?’ I turn my nose up.
‘Not even! I always think of that bit where he cuts his foot on a rock! I feel like that gives you a good indication of my tolerance for gore,’ he says, grimacing.
‘Wow!’ I laugh. ‘It’s not like it’s a bad thing, though.’ I’m thinking of the boys Daisy has gone out with who would literally rather die than admit to being scared or disgusted or horrified, or even admit that they feel anything at all.
‘I guess not.’ He smiles. A very, very good smile.
We keep strolling through the streets of the town, past the little candy-coloured terraces around the seafront, down the high street with its array of shops that haven’t been done up in years and past the old-fashioned ice-cream parlour (Palmer’s Ices’ biggest rival). The papered-over windows of the old Bonner’s department store are staring at us like two blank eyes. The dead shop has become so much a part of the town’s scenery that I had barely noticed it for years, but now it looms over us like an accusation. I shiver in the warm night.
‘I wonder what this town was like in the good old days,’ says Cal, catching me looking at the department store. It’s only in that moment, seeing Weston Bay through his eyes, that I realize quite how much it’s changed. It’s like it’s all happened without me noticing. I suppose it’s been happening for years. One shop closing down, then another; sometimes something appears in their place, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a slow process. ‘Probably wouldn’t have been half as cute without you, though,’ he adds, slipping his hand into mine as we walk.
Finally we stop, ready to part ways, except we’re clearly not ready at all. Cal drops my hand and holds me by my waist, looking at me at arm’s length. I let out a nervous giggle. But I feel emboldened, somehow, and I tip up onto my toes and kiss him hard on the mouth like I’ll never get the chance to again. Like I’m in control of my life. Like I’m happening to life, not life happening to me. It’s play-acting, but it works. My hand on his shoulder, his holding my face, I realize we are in the positions of the lovers in Francesco Hayez’s beautiful painting ‘The Kiss’, something I’ve looked at over and over, trying to absorb the passion and the urgency.
As I’m walking home, I finally, truly, believe that I have to tell Daisy about Cal. It’s just a question of when. And how.
CHAPTER FIVE
Molly? From your old school?
That’s a weird
person to be having breakfast with.
I mean, she’s right, but also … I’m kind of looking forward to seeing someone I’m not so close to. I feel like everyone knows me better than I know myself at the moment.
Yeah … she’s not so bad.
Except she’s running late, which is a thing I forgot people do.
The audacity?! I would never! At least today’s new thing can be hanging out with someone who isn’t me!!!
Before I can reply, she texts again.
I’m seeing Jack later
I feel like she’s expecting me to say something about Cal in return, but I don’t. I’m not sure why.
Finally, Molly appears, her blonde curls bouncing as she sits down in front of me.
‘Oh my god, how are you?! It’s been ages!’ No apology for being late. This is fine, apparently.
‘I’m … doing OK, I think?’
‘Amazing!’
‘How about you?’
‘Yeah, I’m good!’ Molly nods eagerly, enunciating the words emphatically, like she’s learned this way of speaking from a TV presenter. ‘Do you know what you want?’ She cranes her neck to attract the attention of the waitress.
‘Uh, yeah, I think so …’
The waitress comes over, fishing in the pocket of her gingham pinafore for her notepad and pencil.
‘What can I get for you?’
‘Can I please have the blueberry pancakes and an orange juice?’ I ask, folding the menu and handing it to her. ‘Thanks so much.’
‘Excellent choice.’ She smiles as she notes it down. ‘We squeeze our orange juice fresh.’
‘I know you do! It’s wonderful.’
‘And how about for you?’ she asks Molly.
‘One poached egg on one slice of toast and a black coffee,’ Molly says, barely looking up from her phone.
‘Alright …’ says the waitress, as I give her an apologetic smile.
‘Brown bread,’ Molly adds, flatly.
‘Thanks again!’ I say, brightly, and the waitress gives me a sympathetic smile in return.
‘You must be hungry,’ Molly says as she slides her phone into her pocket. ‘The blueberry pancakes here are massive.’
I feel myself blush at the implicit judgement of my choice, and I suddenly remember how uncomfortable Molly always made me feel about my body, even when we were friends. ‘Yeah, I had a big night,’ I reply, wondering if that will provoke further questioning on the subject. It doesn’t.
‘When did we last see each other? I was trying to remember on the way here.’
‘I guess it was maybe last summer? I bumped into you on AS results night, right?’ I say, trying to cast my mind back.
‘Oh yeah! At Josh Patton’s party!’ Ugh. That party. I’d let Daisy drag me along because she really fancied Josh, and it paid off because they were together for a few months after that. Cassie said she didn’t want to go so went drinking on the beach with some people from college instead, and I later found out it was because one of Josh’s friends had forced her to kiss him at a party earlier that year. Obviously I did not enjoy myself and spent the whole time wishing I was drinking cans on the beach with Cassie.
‘What are you up to these days? Are you doing the whole university thing or have you got a job already?’ I ask as the waitress sets our drinks down on the table.
‘I’m taking a gap year,’ Molly says, blowing on her coffee. ‘Going travelling. I want to see the world, you know, before I get stuck in the whole cycle of uni and work and everything.’
‘Oh, cool! Where are you going?’
‘Well, I really want to do South America. I want to go to Mexico and Costa Rica …’ I let her go on without mentioning that neither Mexico nor Costa Rica are in South America. ‘And I want to do Colombia, Brazil and Argentina,’ she says, before taking a sip of her coffee. There is something about her use of the word ‘do’ that strikes me as arrogantly colonial, as if all of these amazing places are just items on a list to be ticked off and somehow conquered by her. Maybe that’s how she approaches everything.
‘That sounds amazing,’ I reply diplomatically. ‘I guess it’s going to be a big trip … are you working at the moment to save for it?’
‘Oh, no.’ She shakes her head. ‘My parents said it wouldn’t be right for me to go to uni without having some adventure first.’
‘OK …’ I say, not really getting her meaning.
‘So, they’re paying.’ She shrugs, as if that’s extremely normal.
‘Right … wow, OK,’ I say with a nod, as our food arrives. I wonder if my mum would pay for me and Daisy to have a jolly for several months, even if she could. Probably not. She’s too sensible.
‘Ugh, those pancakes look amazing,’ Molly says enviously. ‘But I want to get really skinny for travelling.’
I’m about to tell her that she already is really skinny, but I know that’s what she wants me to say, so I just eat my pancakes in peace while wishing I was back at home eating breakfast with Mum or on the big, squishy leather sofa at Cassie’s house eating Pop-Tarts and watching cooking programmes while her parents go over the week’s accounts for the shop. I don’t care much whether Molly means to be fat-shaming me or not, but I want my life to be populated with people who see things the way I do: people who see beyond bodies. I don’t want to have to listen to this from anyone.
‘So … do you see much of anyone from school? Any excitement I’ve missed?’ I ask. Seems like fairly neutral conversational territory to distract us from her casual campaign against my body.
After swallowing down a mouthful of her one poached egg on one slice of toast, Molly takes a deep breath before her features arrange themselves in a smug smile. ‘OK, so where do I start with all the news! Did you hear about Georgia?’
‘Georgia Reid?’ I’m instantly concerned – Georgia was always a bit of a magnet for mess and disaster. You know, getting a bit too drunk at parties, being a bit too loud in class. Most famously, she once had to get rescued by the lifeboat when the tide came in and she was out for a walk, which is the one thing you’re taught to be wary of when you grow up by the sea. But she was always kind to everyone at school.
‘Yeah, Georgia Reid,’ Molly replies, taking a sip of her coffee. I can tell she’s loving this, whatever it is.
‘No, what’s happened to her?’
‘Apparently she’s “bi” now,’ Molly says, waggling her fingers exaggeratedly either side of her head.
‘What’s with the air quotes?’ I ask, my tone prickly.
Molly frowns at me, a look of infinite superiority on her smug face. ‘Come on,’ she begins, a look of cartoonish skepticism on her face. ‘She was always a bit of an attention seeker, wasn’t she?’
I have to pick my battles, and decide to overlook Molly’s classification of Georgia’s previous escapades as attention-seeking. But there are some battles I want to fight. Like those of an absent person who can’t defend themselves. ‘Can you elaborate on how her being bi’ – I feel my face grow warm – ‘works in this “attention-seeking” narrative?’
‘It’s just a cool thing to do now, isn’t it? It doesn’t even mean anything! It’s just what people say when they’re desperately trying to seem more interesting.’
I squint at her like I don’t understand. ‘It means she’s bi. That’s what it means.’
She widens her eyes at me. ‘Alright, alright … it’s not a huge thing, I just wanted to update you on the St Josephine’s news.’
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Talking about Georgia behind her back is bad enough, but knowing that this is how Molly feels is even worse. I wonder if this is what everyone thinks.
We make conversation over the rest of our breakfast, largely about Molly rather than me, but my heart isn’t really in it. I did try, though! I come away from the whole encounter feeling very secure in my decision to only hang out with Cassie. I had tried to remember the good things about Molly but in the process had managed to forget all the reason
s I wasn’t keen to stay in touch with her in the first place. And that includes not hanging out with people who make me feel uncomfortable. There are so many things in life that I can’t control, so I might as well control the things that I can.
On the way back from breakfast, I decide to swing past Daisy’s football game with her informal gang of sporty girls who play five-a-side (or however-many-a-side depending how many of them turn up) on the playing field every Sunday morning, indiscriminate of season. I figure we can walk home together and I can shake off my bad Molly vibes. As I approach the park, two middle-aged men pass me on the pavement. ‘Bunch of dykes,’ one says to the other, nodding towards Daisy and her friends.
‘They’re not bad-looking birds,’ the other man replies, shaking his head. ‘What a waste.’
I stop dead in my tracks as they keep walking in the opposite direction. I feel a white-hot fury rise in my body. It’s anger as well as confusion – firstly the assumption that they must be gay because they’re playing football, secondly that it’s fine to use a slur against them even if they are, thirdly that they’re just out here, roaming the streets looking at every woman they come across through the lens of whether or not they find them sexually appealing, and finally, that they’re disgusting old men turning that lens on literal teenagers. I want to chase after them and beat them up, or at least yell at them. But I don’t. Instead I just stand there for a second, feeling my palms get slick with sweat and listening to my breathing deepen. I don’t want to share a world, let alone a town, with those men.
I want to unload my outrage on Daisy but there’s no point, they’re long gone. I just wait for her to say her goodbyes and bounce sweatily over to me.
‘Fun?’ I ask her as we head in the direction of home.
‘Really fun! Too hot though,’ she says, before taking a swig from her water bottle. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be escorted home!’ She nudges me playfully with her hip as we walk.
‘Yeah … I just wanted to get back to Planet Earth as soon as possible …’
‘So Molly was …’
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