Twisted Summer (21 page)

And I thought about my father. How could I not? Mum had protected me by lying, she said. But did lies really keep anyone safe? Hadn’t worked for me and Gabe; hadn’t worked for Esmé. I wished I had a name for the guy, a photo. Even if I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. I didn’t want to know the person who’d abandoned us, but I wanted to know the part of him that was like…me.

“Whatcha doing?”

I snapped around to see Taylor fiddling with the dark lens attachment on his glasses. He had a bottle of Coke tucked under one arm.

“None of your beeswax,” I muttered. Like he really wanted to talk to me after…well. He saw me having sex. Even the thought of it made my stomach roil.

“You on your own today too?” he said.

“What’s it to you?”

“Thought we could use a chat.” He tucked his glasses back on and shrugged. “Could walk down to the beach or something.”

“Why?” I tore a bit of bread off my uneaten sandwich, trying not to look suspicious.

“I promise not to be mean, Danni.” He picked up my cardigan and held it out. “Okay?”

Gah. Fnar. Bah. Schner…oh, for crying out loud. “Okay.”

I stood up, brushed the crumbs off my cut-off shorts, and he draped the cardigan around my shoulders in an absurd display of chivalry.

We were silent for a good few minutes, weaving around kids with buckets and spades, enthusiastic grandparents, dads clutching newspapers who were grateful for escape. Several times, he looked ready to talk, but only breath spewed out when his mouth opened. When we reached the stone path to the beach, I gave in.

“So talk,” I said through my teeth.

“I dunno what I’m meant to say, Danni.”

“Anything. The weather. What you watched on TV last night. How many times Granddad farted.”

He tittered. “A lot. Barbecue brew.”

“Bleugh.”

“Yeah.” He glanced around us, shoved his hands into his pockets, and exhaled. “What’s that thing on your head?”

“You mean my classy Mount Vesuvius bruise?” I patted the round bump on my forehead that had already turned three different shades of purple. “Esmé was chucking stuff around when she packed up.”

“I guess it’s over with her.”

“You could say that.”

“She was in a bad way.” He pressed thin lips together. “She slept in my bed, you know.”

“Lucky you.”

“She smells like marshmallows.”

“You’re a raging pansy, you know that?”

“Slept and sobbed and ranted. Wasn’t all that sexy, even if she did smell nice. But yeah…she was in my bed.”

“Still a pansy.”

He glanced about, checking to make sure we were out of earshot. “If you keep being mean, I’m going to wait until you go to the loo and change your ringtone to that South Park song. How’s it go now? The one about being an uncle fucker
.
”

My pulse jumped. Fists balled at my sides. It took every ounce of self-control not to wallop him. “You are
not
funny.”

“Sorry.” He recoiled. “Seemed like the way to bring it up, humour and that.”

“Well, it isn’t. So don’t.”

We stepped through the beach gate and took our shoes off to pad down to the rocks. It was half ten, and still quiet; a few residents walked their wet, barking dogs, and one family had set up a few wind breakers. The tide roved slowly in.

Taylor pulled himself up on the rocks overlooking the sea, and I sat a few inches away. He offered me the Coke, but I declined.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other night,” he said eventually.

“What the hell were you doing there, Taylor?”

“Um. Well. I kind of saw you go down to the beach that first night, and I wondered why. And the second night, I was out in the woods about to light up…and I saw you again. So I followed you. Thought you went to the beach, but then I couldn’t see you there. I heard some noises but they were, you know…”

I winced. “Sex noises.”

“Er…yeah. But I was a bit stoned, and I was all like, no way is that Gabe and Danni.”

“Because that would be ridiculous.”

He snorted. “Yeah.”

“Carry on.”

“At the barbecue, when you were talking to Gabe—it seemed a good way to start a conversation with Esmé, asking why you were going to the beach at night, and why you and Gabe looked so cosy.”

Heat drained from my cheeks. “Oh God.”

“Dick move. I know, okay?”

This was what I got for leaving Taylor out, ignoring my instincts and letting Esmé try to isolate him. Karma bus. “So what did she say?”

“Not a lot, at first. Just asked me for beer. But then she was like, we have to pretend to go to sleep and see if you guys skedaddle again. And you did tonight…so we followed.”

A seagull swept over us with a grating squark. It settled a few rocks away like it wanted to eavesdrop. I should have brought my bacon sandwich to throw bits for them…didn’t think. Would have been a nice distraction from Taylor and his front row tickets to the Awkward Show.

“We never expected to find what we did,” Taylor mumbled. “Didn’t even cross my mind. I figured you guys might have been smoking or drinking. Or I dunno, planning something. Just being all chummy.”

Leaving him out.

“We were kinda chummy.”

“Yeah.” He snorted again, trying to contain full-blown laughter. “So I saw.”

I put my face in my hands. “I can’t believe you saw me like that.”

“
I did need some brain bleach.” He scratched his chin. “Was even worse seeing Gabe.
Hearing—
”

“I get it.” I groaned. “There’s no need, really.”

We fell into uneasy silence again. Dogs barked, owners yelled at them in lilting Welsh accents. Kids squealed as the tide ate away at their forts and sandcastles. I didn’t bother scraping the wind-teased hair from my face; the urge to hide from the world was stifling.

“How does something like that even happen?” he said.

“It’s weird. It felt weird…at first.”

Taylor finished his Coke with a few wet gulps. “Do you, like, want to be with him? As a couple?”

I nodded.

“Woah.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Not going to happen though, huh?”

“We’re talking about it.”

“But he’s going away,” he said, “to Canada and stuff.”

I squinted at him in the yellow spill of sun. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Another secret, you mean?”

“Another, yeah.”

“Is it worse than this one?”

Even I giggled a bit at that. “Not really.”

“Shoot.”

“I might be going to Canada too.”

He tossed the empty bottle from one hand to another. “Fucking hell.”

“We’re trying to work it out.”

“
I want to wish you good luck, but…it’s so
weird
, Danni. And Esmé, I mean, she didn’t deserve that.”

“No. I know.” I sighed. “It all got stupidly complicated. I really never meant for it to happen, and Gabe tried to end it too. But it wouldn’t go away.” I dropped my legs, swirling my toes in foamy turquoise water. Water is meant to be relaxing, isn’t it? This was the foot spa from hell. “I’m not sure it’s meant to go away, you know?”

“I suppose.”

“Thank you. For not telling, I mean.” And for not hating me, Taylor. For still being there.

“It’s not my place.” He glanced over, watched my feet. “Probably shouldn’t even have told Esmé. Sorry about that.”

“You weren’t to know.”

“Anyway. In return, please don’t tell my Mum about the weed.”

I threw a light elbow into his ribs. “I won’t. You big stoner. Just promise to stay away from my ringtone, okay?”

He began to sing that South Park song, his shoulders bobbing in a jaunty dance.

“Taylor!”

“—Quite like you!”

With a deep breath, I shoved him right off the rocks and into the sea. He flapped around while the seagulls bellowed at him, coughing up lumps of salt water like a half-dead fish.

“This is revenge for that poor girl.” I clutched myself, laughing. “The one you chose the book over.”

He climbed back up, clothes drenched, glasses askew. Sea water flew from his nose. “Hardy ha ha.”

The email came on Friday.

When the familiar little ping sounded on my phone, I was curled up near the tree stump in the woods—a place I’d spent a lot of time those past few days. Half of me simmered with excitement, but the other half chastised that it was probably spam (as usual).

It wasn’t.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: come fly with me

Flight booked. No visa required for now, will sort when there.

Looks like I have a new assistant ;)

Meet me at the Crown Plaza hotel at the airport, Sunday, any time after 2. Sooner you get there, longer we have all alone in a beautiful room…we fly 8am Monday.

Call your mother, call your uni. Maybe not the cavalry.

Can’t actually believe we’re doing this.

Danni, I love you from the bottom of my perverted heart.

xxxxx

I pressed my face into my novel, trembled quietly, and then wept hot, stinging tears of relief into the yellow pages.

***

In hindsight, the drive home was probably not the time to tell Mum about Canada.

She switched the radio off and glared at me in the mirror (the back seat felt like a refuge, since we still weren’t talking, really).

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat that?”

“I did a lot of thinking this week,” I said, “and I’m going to take a gap year.”

She sniffed. “To do what? Work?”

“Gabe says I can go to Canada with him.”

That did it. She practically frothed at the mouth. “You’re not serious, Danni.”

“Canada sounds pretty cool,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be like him. Don’t run away just because you’ve had a hard time recently—”

“What d’you mean? Gabe—”

“I’m not talking about him.” She sighed. “I’m talking about your father.”

I knew nothing about my dad, but was ninety nine percent sure he never switched continents because he fell in love with a hot relative.

“Mum. That’s really low.”

“
Your behaviour this week has been nothing but
low
,” she hissed.

“I’m eighteen, not five. God. Haven’t you ever made a mistake in your life?”

She ignored me, yanking the gear stick and staring through the windscreen.

“I leave for the airport tomorrow lunch time,” I said.

“Do you really trust him to take care of you? Really?”

I wanted to shout
he’s never lied to me, not like you!
But it sounded so petty and childish, and there I was, about to go off in the world like somebody so much older. And Mum might have been a bitch half the time, but I didn’t want to leave on bad terms. I knew she was right when she talked about protecting me, even if I didn’t always understand it.

“Gabe’s not like that,” I said. “Not when you get to know him.”

“You talk like you have some twisted little crush.” She bit her lip. “Danni. At least take a while to think it through. I know it sounds exciting but a year is a long time, and Canada is a long way to go. If anything goes wrong, I can’t just drive out to get you.”

“I leave for the airport tomorrow at lunch time,” I repeated.

“I’ll tell you.” She swallowed. “Stay, and I’ll tell you who your father is.”

I said nothing.

***

It was late afternoon on Saturday by the time we got home. I had less than twenty-four hours to pack, sleep…and resolve a little unfinished business.