Freia Lockhart's Summer of Awful (28 page)

“Number thirty-seven,” calls a voice from the doorway. I hold up my hand but the guy in the shark hat's facing the other way.

As I start to walk towards him, he walks back inside. “Uh, thirty-seven, that's me,” I call to his back.

He turns and looks at me from under a row of white, pointy teeth. “Freia?”

The voice is Dan's but the young man in front of me bears little resemblance to my boyfriend, except for the deep blue of his eyes, which are wide with surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asks sharply. So much for my fantasy emotional reunion then.

“Getting lunch,” I snap back, snatching the paper-wrapped parcel from his hands and marching back out the door as fast as I can so that he won't see I'm shaking.

“Freia, wait!”

I can feel every eye in the shop follow me out onto the street, eager to see what's going to happen next. I walk to the beach, keeping my eyes straight ahead and my ears cocked for the sound of Dan's heavy boots following me. But when I cross the deserted road, the only sound is of seagulls squawking angrily for scraps.

Gran and Stan are perched at one end of the stone wall, deep in conversation. I plonk the parcel next to Gran.

“You were gone an age,” says Gran. “We thought you might have ditched us for someone more exciting.”

“I'll wait for you at the station,” I say, grabbing my bag and tugging it onto my back.

She calls after me, but I ignore her. I've given her all the chances she's going to get.

The platform is empty except for the dozing labrador, whose vast body is taking up all of the shade. I squeeze myself next to it, clasping my knees to my chest to get them out of the sun. According to the clock outside the stationmaster's office, I have fifty-three minutes to wait like this till the train comes. My left hamstring begins to cramp. I nudge the dog to try to get it to shove over a bit and stretch my leg out in front of me.

“There you are.” Dan is red in the face and breathing heavily. I can't tell whether it's from running or if he's just really angry.

“It wasn't my idea,” I tell him. “It's Gran's fault, interfering old biddy. She didn't even tell me we were coming here.”

“I know,” he says. “She came to the shop and told me everything. I'm sorry if I didn't seem happy to see you; I was just in shock.”

“Yeah, well, I was in shock, too. You didn't tell me you had a job.”

Dan sits down next to me. “I'm not exactly proud of it.” He pulls off the shark cap and his long fringe flops down. The rest of his hair is pulled back in a ponytail, which he smooths back self-consciously. “There's some other stuff I haven't told you.”

This is it. I mentally prepare myself to be dumped. Oh, first there'll be some small talk about what a “great girl” I am and how our four months together have been “fun”, but eventually he'll have to get to the “but”.
But I need some space. But I'm not ready for a serious relationship. But I'm in love with Kristy. But …

“There's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to blurt it out.” Dan takes a deep breath and I hold mine. He keeps his eyes fixed on the bitumen of the platform while he talks. “You remember when Stepdag took me golfing and we had that big fight? Well, it was a bit worse than just an argument. Afterwards, I overheard him telling Mum that if I didn't get my act together, I wasn't welcome in his home. I thought Mum might defend me for once, but she agreed with him. She even said Dad was right about me needing to be taught a lesson at the Academy, and she never agrees with anything Dr Phil says. I was so angry that I took Steve's brand-new golf clubs up to the cliff and threw them off one by one.

“Of course, the moment he realised his precious clubs were missing Steve accused me and, after some unwise lying on my part and brutal interrogation on his, the truth came out. He was going to send me packing, which would have been fine by me if Mum hadn't been ready to call the Academy herself, but Kristy made a deal with him that if I paid for the clubs and proved I could be a decent member of the family, then I could stay and they wouldn't tell Dad what I'd done.”

I exhale. Either there's no “but” to this story or Dan's trying to buy himself as much time as possible. I don't have the lung capacity to wait to find out.

Dan looks up from the ground, decides that despite the strangled
aargh
sound that escaped when I exhaled, I'm still listening, and continues. “I knew if Mum was on board, Dad would send me straight to the Academy, so I agreed. Then Steve tells me that the clubs cost over a thousand dollars. A thousand bucks for a few sticks with blobs of metal on them! Little Ridge is a small town and there aren't many jobs around here, especially not for unskilled teenage labour, so I thought I was dead in the water. Luckily, Kristy's worked at Sharky's every summer since she was sixteen, so she put in a word for me with the owner and I've been fry monkey every lunchtime and mop monkey every night ever since.”

“That's it?” I ask. Dan nods. “You've been avoiding my calls because you didn't want to tell me you have a job?”

“No. Well, yes, I didn't want to tell you how low I've stooped to earn a buck, but what I didn't want you to find out was that I got myself into such a mess in the first place. Me spending the holidays in Little Ridge instead of with you is just one more thing to add to the long list of things Dan's screwed up. I was scared that there might not be any room left on your list for one more. Especially not one this size.” He reaches out and takes my hand in his. “Can you forgive me?”

His sad, hopeful expression makes me want to say yes, but I know he's only told me half the story. “Why did you lie to me about having to come here?” Dan looks at me quizzically, so I continue. “You said you had to come to Little Ridge, that your parents were forcing you to. But I overheard something too: Dr Phil telling my mum how surprised he was that this visit was all your idea.”

Dan bows his head again and I know it's true. I take my hand from his. “Why did you want to go away from me when you knew I was upset about Mum? I needed you.”

Dan swallows hard before answering. “That's why I had to go. You needed me to be strong and supportive and … boyfriend-ly, and I tried to be all that, Fray, I really did. But I screwed that up, too. I could see I was just making things worse for you, getting in the way and saying all the wrong things and I couldn't work out how to make it better. It was obvious you'd be better off without me for a while. Plus, your mum getting sick made me want to see my own mum, especially after what happened last time I was here. I kept thinking that if something happened to her, if something went wrong during the birth or whatever, her last memory of me would be me yelling that I hated her and never wanted to see her again. I'm sorry, Fray, I really am.”

I wipe my sleeve across my eyes. I don't know whether I'm crying for Dan or for myself, but for whichever reason I can't stop.

Dan pulls the apron from around his waist and hands it to me. “It might smell a little greasy, but I promise it's clean – I'm also the laundry monkey.”

I wipe my eyes and dab my nose. “You could have told me you wanted to see your mum, you know. I would have understood.”

“I knew you would. But I also knew that if the situation was reversed, you'd have stayed by my side and said all the right things to comfort me and I didn't want you to know how crap I am at this boyfriend-girlfriend stuff, because it may not seem like it a lot of the time, but I'm really trying to impress you.” He reaches for my hand again and I let him wind his fingers through mine. “I've missed you so much,” he whispers as he puts his other arm around me, and I melt into the warmth of his chest.

“Well, this is more like it,” says Gran. “I knew if you just had a chance to talk things through, it'd all come out in the wash. Didn't I tell you, Bloss, two sides to every story?” I pull away from Dan and we both get to our feet. “Now, much as I hate to break up this happy reunion, Dan, your boss said to tell you that if you're not back in five minutes, you're fired.”

Dan sighs. “Sorry, Fray, but I've got another six lunch shifts, seven mops and three loads of laundry to do before I finish paying my debt. Can you stay till I finish for the day? I'm sure Mum'd be happy to have you both to dinner.”

“Sorry,” says Gran, checking her watch. “We've got a train to catch.”

I start to protest – after all, what difference does it make to her busy schedule of tea and knitting if we're here for a few hours longer – but she gives me a look that silences me.

By the time the train pulls in, the platform is crowded with surfers heading back to the city. Stan and Co. are still inspecting their tidal pools, so Gran and I have the front carriage all to ourselves.

“We could have stayed a few more hours,” I say, stuffing the timetable back in her tote and pulling my scarf from beneath it. “There's an eight o'clock service back to the city.”

Gran looks up from her own knitting. “I know, Bloss, but that would've made it
too
easy for him.”

“Don't leave that there,” says Mum when I dump the remnants of the trail mix on the kitchen counter. “Boris and Rocky have already been into the pantry today. Between Rocky's ability to claw open just about anything and Boris's extreme greed, no foodstuff is safe around here any more.”

Gran goes over to Rocky's perch and tickles him under the chin. “Don't blame Rocko; he's just easily led.”

Mum raises her eyebrows at me before changing the subject. “Nice day at the beach?”

“It was just what we needed,” says Gran, turning to give me a conspiratorial wink.

“Glad to hear it,” says Mum, switching on the kettle. “I'm sorry I couldn't go with you, but it's just as well we hadn't planned anything for the afternoon because I went and got my tattoos.”

“A tattoo?” I'm not sure whose mouth is gaping wider, mine or Gran's. (Actually, it's surely mine – Gran's probably got a tattoo somewhere under all that crochet.)

“For radiotherapy,” says Mum. “They're so happy with the way I've responded to the antibiotics that they think I can have my first session next week. I have to go to the hospital for it every morning for three weeks, but the good news is that I'll be finished treatment before uni goes back, so it won't affect my classes.”

Gran starts to say something about Mum taking a semester off but she's interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Thanks for going today,” says Mum when Gran goes to the living room to take her call. “I hope it wasn't too painful.”

I spoon fresh tea-leaves into the pot and fill it with water. “It had its painful moments, but it was mainly good. Gran kind of grows on you once you get used to the bossiness, like mould on an expensive cheese.”

Mum laughs. “I hope my grandkids don't say that about me one day.”

Dad comes into the kitchen holding a thick stack of paper in both hands and grinning like Loony McLoon. “O frabjous day! Calloo! Caallay!” he croons. When we don't react he holds the paper closer for us to inspect. “My novel. It's finished!”

Mum puts down her wooden spoon and walks round the kitchen bench to give Dad a hug. “Oh, darling, that's wonderful!”

I don't know what to say. Dad's been working on his novel for so long that I'd begun to wonder whether it really existed. I pour the tea so I don't have to watch the two of them smooching.