183 Times a Year (22 page)

CASSIE

It's early morning and the sun is shining through a slit in the old fashioned flowery curtains. The first smell to hit my nose is the musty, fusty pong of the bedding. I need a wee but I can't be bothered to move. Plus the toilet here is rank. It has the same mouldy smell as these sheets. Mum said it's just because the cottage we've hired has been locked up for a few months, but I'm not so sure. It just smells rank to me. So does the tap water, so asking if it was safe to drink was a perfectly illegitimate question. It certainly didn't warrant Grandads reply of:

‘For fack, facking sake Cassie, this is bleedin Cornwall, not the back of bleedin beyond! Of course the blady tap water's safe to drink. Who does she think she is? Lady bleedin Muck?'

And, I'm pretty sure that
was
a spider that ran across my bum last night too when I sat on the loo. If it'd happened to anyone else they would have screamed out as well, so there was no need for Mum to have a complete eppy like she did. Idiot. And I certainly did not wake the whole bloody house up like she said. It was only her, and Simon and Nan, oh yeah and Grandad coz I remember him calling me Foghorn Lil, and Freddy. So it wasn't the whole house. God she exaggerates so bloody much.

I still can't believe her reaction though when I told her I was going to college instead of Sixth Form. I thought she'd go bloody mad, but she just looked really pleased and said she was well-chuffed coz she always hoped I'd do something with music.
I
thought she was going to have like some major rant about it. Bloody adults. Don't make any bloody sense at all.

Talking of which I wonder if Dad has got to Florida yet. I still can't believe he wouldn't take me and Connor with him. Oh god, now I feel like crying again. He said it's because Harriet is so young they don't have to pay for her. But coz we're older and bigger he'd have to pay for me and Connor and coz he doesn't have a job we can't expect Sharon to pay. Why though? We are Dad's children too so why, if Sharon is the one earning the money, won't she include us as well?

I tried to tell Dad how hurt I felt but he wouldn't listen. So then I started shouting at him. Then he told me not to be so selfish coz we are going on holiday with our Mum and Harriet is doing exactly the same and going on holiday with her Mum. The only difference is that he'll be there with them. Why does he do that? Why does he twist things like that, like I'm the one in the wrong? Why doesn't Sharon like us? I just don't get it. Bitch. Don't want to go to stupid Florida anyway. Cornwall is just as good.

I can't see him but I can hear him. Freddy has just nudged my door open and is sniffing round the room. God he is so nosy. I can see him now; he stops sniffing, looks up at me and barks. I pat the bed and call him to me. He cocks his head to one side, sits down and proceeds to scratch his ear with his back leg. After a vigorous rubbing, he stops then lowers his head downwards and starts to lick his gonads. Eeeewww! He's like sooooo bloody disgusting.

‘Freddy! Bloody stop it,' I shout, but he completely ignores me. The licking sound is making me feel sick. ‘Freddy!' I shout louder but this time I throw one of the revolting crocheted cushions from the bed at him. He stops immediately and looks at me, shocked. Then he jumps onto the bed, pounces on me and pins me down whilst proceeding to lick my face. Bloody
disgusting
dog. Licking his balls one minute then licking my face the next.

‘Freddy! Stooooooooop-iiiiiiiitttt!' I try to shout in between his slobbering tongue all over my face. I can't help thinking about what Zoe Price from school, and what she said she does with her boyfriend, which is as equally, if not more so, repulsive. I shudder. I don't care what anyone says, I will never – ever – lick anyone's balls. Not even Joe's. Well, maybe I would lick Joe's. I wonder what they taste of? I shiver in disgust. Yuk. It's just too rank. No. I will not lick anyone's balls. Ever.

Joe has texted me a couple of times. He said he was sorry for leaving me at Chelsea's that night. He said he likes me, a lot – but he just needs some time to think at the moment. I asked him why his Facebook status said he was in a relationship. He said he'd explain when he sees me at school in September. I told him I wasn't going. He seemed shocked. Still didn't ask to meet up with me though. Idiot. Think as much as you want Joe. Take as much time as you need, I won't be waiting for you. Except, I know that's not true. I'll probably wait until the end of time for Joe. Well, at least until I meet and marry Alex Turner from the Arctic Monkeys anyway.

The smell of cooked bacon is wafting up the stairs and has interrupted my thoughts. Clearly Freddy has smelled it too coz he's stopped licking my face and is running full pelt down the stairs. I decide to stay in bed for a bit longer so I won't get roped into helping out. If I leave it long enough everything will probably be ready when I go down. Anyway I deserve a rest coz I worked really hard for my GCSE's. And I start my new job next week in the lingerie department of Ashford & Bloom. Blooming 12 hours a bloody week I have to work! More at Christmas! As well as going to college in September. Besides, Mum likes cooking and cleaning.

LIZZIE

I'm so glad we're here. I really needed a break. There is so much upset and unrest at work about further job losses; I feel as though I'm working in a cocoon of cacophony. I know a week in Perranporth isn't particularly grand and doesn't have the same ring to it as St. Moritz, Monaco or Florida for that matter. Bastard. Why? Why even tell the kids he was going there if he had no intention of taking them? I close my eyes, switch the pause button on my thoughts and take a deep breath. My mind is working overtime.

I inhale a familiar fusion of moist sand and brackish seawater. The sun is warm but it's still quite early so there's no real intensity to its heat. An ocean breeze dances around my ears and brings with it the sound of laughter and dogs barking. Childhood holidays are evoked and Scott is washed away by a tsunami of juvenile memories.

Connor shouts. ‘Mu-um. Mum! Can you hear me?' His voice carries across a seasonally temperate Cornish wind. ‘C'mmmoon,' he beckons, waiving excitedly. ‘Grandad says we might find treasure – real
pirate
treasure.'

Of course they will, if Dad has anything to do with. Well, fake, real pirate treasure anyway. Doubloons – gold preferred but silver is acceptable – will have been purchased from the local gift shop “Little Gems”. Authentic replicas, ensconced carefully somewhere about Dad's person away from small prying eyes only to be magically discovered by eager hands when trawling among ancient Cornish caves.

We are heading around the headland of Halzephron towards Dollar Cove on Lizard Peninsula. Apparently the Cove derived its name from folklore surrounding the wreck of the Spanish ship, San Salvador, which was lost sometime during the 17th century and supposedly laden with silver dollars. A number
of
which, it's claimed, are still washed up from time to time after some of the more majestic storms pummel this rugged but beautiful, exposed coast.

At high tide the beach here is generally comprised of shingle and stone but as the tide drops, as it has this morning, a breathtaking sandy bay is revealed, broken up by a scattering of contorted granite protrusions.

Mum and Dad are en-route towards the dark open mouths of a few of the caves up ahead with Connor and Summer – my 7 year old niece, dreadlocks and all – in tow. Freddy and Simon are running along the expanse of golden sand, although who is leading who is a little confusing.

‘Penny for them,' Sean, my brother asks. I look up skywards and feel the promise of another fine day bathe my face. ‘Your thoughts,' he continues. ‘A penny for your thoughts. Or maybe that should be dollar,' he adds as an afterthought.

‘Oh I don't know,' I reply sighing. ‘I was just thinking about when we were kids.

I'm so glad Mum and Dad used to bring us here. I don't think I ever really fully appreciated just how beautiful this place was … is. I can see why you came to live here.'

Sean smiles. Our conversation is interrupted by delighted squeals emanating from one of the caves up ahead. The body of a child, followed by a smaller one emerge. They wave their hands ferociously.

‘Treasure Mum,' Connor shouts. ‘We've found treasure,' he continues before they both disappear again. I turn to look at Sean's sun kissed face and we both laugh. The buzzing voice of a sand martin catches my attention and I look up again. Several of them fly together above our heads, their white bellies and brown breast band clearly visible. They are social creatures and head towards their colony of burrowed nests in the eroding cliffs.

‘
God it's so good to be here,' I say. It's just so, how can I put it…'

‘Spiritual?' Sean suggests.

‘Yes, that's exactly what it is. Spritual.'

We stop walking and perch amongst the rocks. I look around, in awe of the view that meets my eye. Except for the technology in my pocket and the clothes worn by ourselves and a few others on the beach. There is no other visible sign of what century we are living in. We are on the edge of the world, amongst it all, the sea, the beach, the land, the flora and fauna.

‘You should just drop out Sis. Give up the rat race and join us.'

‘Hummmmph – yeah. It's a nice thought but not that easy Sean. Connor's still at school…'

‘Home school him like we do Summer,' Sean interrupts.

‘And Cassie wants to go to college,' I continue, ‘possibly university. Then there's Simon's job and my job, although that's in doubt. Again. And, as much as I'd love to live your slightly beatnik way of life I'm not sure everyone else in our household would. But it's good to be here. Good to see you.'

I look towards the mouth of the cave again, watching as two excited treasure hunters dance at its entrance.

‘Summer's certainly growing and she's just beautiful, you know.' Sean smiles again.

‘Yeah, she is isn't she, just like her Mum.'

‘And her Dad,' I say, elbowing him playfully. ‘Where is Natasha this morning anyway?'

‘Nat? She's getting a few things ready for tonight. Picking some veggies from the garden, making sure we have enough homebrew and stuff. You are all coming, right? It'd be great to see Cassie, and Maisy of course. Does she still dress like a vampire?'

I sigh. ‘Yes. Well no, not a vampire. At least I hope that's not
what
she's trying to be?'

She does like the Twilight movies and books though?

‘Hmmmmm, note to self, check Maisy's teeth next time you speak to her,' I say out loud.

Sean laughs. ‘Maisy the vampire,' he declares. ‘It does have a certain ring to it doesn't it?' His expression becomes one of concern. He places one of his rough, work-wearied hands on mine. ‘How are you Sis? You and the kids?'

‘Ahhh well, yes, me and the kids?' I reply, running my free hand through my hair. ‘What can I tell you about the kids? Connor's great, a bit forgetful, a bit too laid back for his own good sometimes, but otherwise great.'

‘And the girls?'

I raise my eyes and smile. ‘The girls … let me see. For a start they're girls, but not just any girls, they're
teenage
girls. Add to that fact they are slightly damaged teenage girls with an abundance of raging hormones, which in turn makes me, in their eyes anyway, both the devil incarnate and the wicked step-monster. Does that give you some idea?' My intonation is one of exasperated amusement. ‘So, bearing all that in mind, then yeah, I'd pretty much say the girls are fine.'

‘Fi-ne?' Sean repeats slowly. I look at him and laugh.

‘Fucked up. Insecure. Neurotic and Emotional,' we both say in unison. Sean winks at me. ‘And you? How are you Sis. And Si?'

‘Simon's great. We have our moments, usually about the kids,' I say rolling my eyes. ‘But otherwise yeah, he's a keeper I think the saying is.' I linger for a moment. ‘It doesn't stop…' I pause.

‘It doesn't stop what?' Sean asks.

I pull my hand away from his. ‘The fear,' I reply, washing both my hands in dumb show. ‘I still feel so vulnerable at times and I still don't understand Scott, and why he left. Well no, actually
that's
not true. I know exactly why he left. Money, of course – his first and last love – but why, why, why has he virtually abandoned the kids? I don't get that? How many times do I have to keep picking up the shattered pieces he leaves behind?'

Anger clips my voice. Sean takes both my hands in his, the manual labour of an outdoor life evident in their course, jagged texture. He looks straight at me.

‘Simon's not Scott. He won't leave you.'

‘How do you know?' I protest.

Sean raises a finger and puts it to my mouth. ‘Si won't leave you,' he repeats. ‘And the girls, and Connor, will be just fine.'

I stare back at Sean and grimace. ‘You think so?'

‘Absolutely. Connor's smart, like his Mum of course, and both the girls are far brighter than you give them credit for.'

I raise my eyes and guffaw. ‘Hmmmm. You think so? I'm not so sure. Did I tell you I overheard them talking the other day? They were discussing the Prime minister and couldn't remember his name. Do you know what name they finally settled on?'

Sean is already laughing. ‘Go on then, what?' he asks. ‘Cameron Diaz,' I declare. ‘Cameron blinking Diaz.'

‘Oh well, give em some credit, they got half the name right. Right?'

I hold my hands out in hopeless question. ‘I suppose so.'

‘Where are they anyway? Didn't they want to come to the beach this morning?' I grin mischievously.

‘Let's just say they had a few things to do,' I reply.