Authors: Bob Summer
Joe burst through the caff door ten days later like he’d never been away. ‘Hey, Atts fats. What’s been happening?’
‘Not much.’
‘Get that kettle on.’ He pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘I need lots of TLC.’
He didn’t look too sick to me. ‘How’s the war wounds?’
He drew in his breath and patted his chest. ‘Doc reckons I should drink lots of brandy and eat curry five times a week.’
‘Sounds like hell.’ I poured him a mug of tea and joined him at the table in the window. It was hard to believe how much had changed since we’d sat in the exact same spot just a couple of weeks before. If he mentioned my dad being proud I had every intention of poking him in the eye.
‘No visits from our friends in the Law?’
‘Nope. The odd Red has come in for a bacon roll and it’s like nothing ever happened.’
‘Most of them probably don’t know anything did. You know what gorms they are. They wouldn’t sense a bad atmosphere in a riot.’ He slurped his tea and smacked his chops together. ‘Good stuff.’
‘No it’s not.’
He winked. ‘Things back to normal then? What damage did the lockdown leave?’
I twirled my mug. ‘A fair few lemondroppers have disappeared. Rumour has it the Law dished out some free stuff that might have killed a few off. I’ve got a list of those who need burying.’
‘Blessed release for some of them, I’ve no doubt.’
Stuart’s words about drawing a line made me look at Joe with fresh eyes. ‘You think it’s okay?’
He sat back in his chair. ‘That’s not what I said.’
Pretty much. But like Matron said, if they were already gone, waste of time fighting their corner. ‘And that bunch of lads,’ I said. ‘The ones who were robbing the stores ― they’ve been arrested. Things seem calmer than ever.’
‘I need to get you a new phone and sonic ear so you can go over the gym and see if you can find out where they’re being held.’
‘What? You’re kidding.’
‘Best get straight back on the horse.’
‘No way.’
‘I can’t have you losing those back legs. You did good.’
‘I haven’t lost any legs.’ Gavin thought I’d gone soft, Joe thought I’d lost my nerve. ‘There are other ways to change things. Better ways.’
‘Oh for eff’s sake, Atty. We need to hit them both ways. Maybe one day we’ll meet in the middle, until then let Stuart do his thing and you carry on doing yours.’
For days I’d been listening out for advice from the voices in my mind − my dad, Fran − but they’d gone. And despite him sitting there, big and moody, I felt Joe slipping away from me too. ‘I can’t do it anymore,’ I said. ‘I’m done.’
He looked into his mug. ‘Why don’t you take that holiday? The one you should have taken after Fran died.’
‘I don’t need a holiday.’ He went on like I was some special kid, needing help. ‘Just because we don’t agree on everything, doesn’t make me in need of a holiday or anything else.’
‘That’s not what I meant. I simply think a break will do you good.’
Whatever he thought didn’t really matter but, even if his reasoning was off, a break couldn’t do me any harm. Besides, I didn’t have the fight to argue. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But I’m choosing when and where, okay?’
‘Okay with me. When you get back we’ll talk again. Maybe even find you a proper job. Promise.’
Yeah, we’d lost each other all right. Probably for good too.
I found the beach easily. The first night was cool so I made a fire and watched the flames flash against the blue-black sky. I curled up in the hut and slept sound.
In the morning the sun rose above the sea, turning it pink, white and then blue, and, sitting there wrapped up, arms tight round my legs, watching the ocean, I finally got it. The world was a mess. Nobody trusted anybody, bodies and drugs, agents and soldiers – all would come and go, but this stuff - the sea, the sun, the sky, they’d been here forever and would still be here long after we’d all gone. They were safe. And here, being a part of them, so was I.
I heard him but didn’t turn around. He crouched behind me, his mouth at my hair, his hands - those fingers lifted my T-shirt and touched the flesh at my waist, his warm breath on my neck sending tingles to my thighs. ‘Is it doing it for you?’
‘Do you know what?’ I said. ‘I think it bloody well might be.’
A barely there kiss on my collar bone set my skin to hyper-sensitive. I turned to face him.
Stuart touched my face before his fingers slid around to tug gently at the hair on the back of my neck.
And then he kissed me.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Sam at www.jefferson-franklin.co.uk for her encouragement, support, and excellent editing skills.
Cover by the multi-talented
K R Griffiths Cover Design
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