‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, and ran out of the pub without looking back.
It took Joe two weeks to wear her down. And during that two weeks he occupied her every waking moment and her every sleeping dream, as she veered between wild fantasies and stern lectures to herself. No way could he be really interested in her, a little scrubber from the backstreets of Tawcombe. Was she just a challenge he couldn’t resist? It was obviously a point of honour. He was an arrogant little shit, she told herself, who didn’t like thinking somebody could resist him.
But the truth was, she couldn’t. He finally ran her to ground, one glorious evening when she’d decided to take the coast path back from work. By going that way she could cut across to a bus stop further along than the one she usually caught, avoiding the protracted detour the bus took through various villages. She was all alone on the top of the cliffs, treading her way carefully along the narrow, treacherous path that only the most intrepid of tourists followed.
She turned a corner and saw him sitting on a bench, staring out to sea. Looking back, of course, she realized it was no coincidence. He turned and gave her a slow, lazy smile.
‘Molly . . .’ he said.
‘I’m just on my way home.’ She could feel her cheeks flush pink.
He nodded down the cliff, to the rocks at the bottom. He put a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet as he beckoned her over.
‘You’re just in time.’
‘For what?’
She came and sat next to him. He pulled her close, then pointed. Amidst the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, bobbing about in the blue water, were three sleek black heads. Molly smiled in delight.
‘Seals!’
Joe nodded, unable to take his eyes away.
‘I come down here every night to watch them. Do you want to go further down, get a better look?’
He pointed to a tiny narrow path on the cliff’s edge, only inches wide and almost vertical. Molly nodded.
‘OK.’
As they scrambled down the cliff, Molly’s heart was in her mouth. It was a long way down and the rocks below looked unforgiving, but eventually, after much scrambling, the path gave out on to a grassy platform, about ten metres square.
‘No one ever comes down here. It’s the perfect viewing point.’
They lay on the warm ground and watched the seals frolicking in the water. After a few minutes Molly realized that Joe wasn’t paying them attention any longer; he was staring at her.
‘What?’ she asked, slightly defensive.
‘You,’ he answered simply. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’
Molly felt her stomach do a slow somersault. She should have laughed him off; rolled her eyes and told him to sling his hook. But she was transfixed. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his, and as he leaned over to kiss her, she pulled him towards her greedily, longing for his touch, and it was every feeling she had imagined.
Molly had attached no great sentimental value to her virginity. No one did in her world. She’d got rid of it neatly when she was fourteen, to an old boyfriend of her sister’s, to see what all the fuss was about, and she’d been neither impressed nor traumatized by the experience. She’d had the odd encounter since, but nothing memorable. Now, however, she was suddenly flooded with a feeling that told her she had missed the point somewhere along the line. She wanted him to touch her everywhere. She flung her clothes off with a feverish urgency, oblivious to the fact that they were in broad daylight. Nothing else mattered but being possessed by him.
Afterwards, they lay in each other’s arms for a moment, breathless, panting. Joe rolled over on to his back, wiping his hand across his forehead, and closed his eyes with what seemed to be a sigh of satisfaction. As her heart began to slow down to its normal pace and the feelings that had flooded her slowly ebbed away, Molly panicked. What the hell had she done? How many other girls had Joe lured down here, with his Disneyesque tableau? Did the seals know that they were part of his mating ritual, his seduction technique? Were they trained to perform for his victim’s delight, knocking them off their guard? She scrambled to her feet, pulling her clothes back on. Joe had made his conquest. He’d proven himself irresistible. And she’d proven herself weak. She looked at him, at his chest rising and falling, oblivious to her torment. He seemed to be fast asleep.
Her legs were trembling, weak from the climb down and the emotion, as she scrambled as fast as she could back up the rocks. For some reason she found she was crying. It wasn’t fair. She’d laid herself completely open, stripped herself naked both literally and metaphorically. He’d taken her, taken the very core of her. And now he’d got what he wanted, now he’d gratified himself and satisfied himself, that would be it, she knew. Tomorrow night he’d be outside the Jolly Roger with Tamara, dropping kisses on to her bronzed shoulders, running his thumb along her back . . .
‘Molly!’ His hand was on her shoulder. He’d followed her up. ‘Where the hell are you going?’
‘Home . . .’ she managed through her tears.
‘Why?’ He grabbed her by both elbows and looked at her, bewildered.
‘You’ve got what you wanted.’
‘No!’ He looked into her eyes, genuinely flummoxed. ‘You don’t understand. I want you.’
She was panting with the exertion, too exhausted to run.
‘You want me? Why?’
‘Because . . . you make me feel like me.’
She frowned.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can be myself with you. You don’t expect things from me. And you don’t disapprove.’
‘Disapprove? What of?’
Joe shrugged.
‘You know my reputation.’
‘Yes,’ said Molly meaningfully. ‘What about Tamara?’
Joe sighed.
‘I’ll have to tell her.’
‘Tell her what?’
‘About us.’
Molly frowned. ‘It’s a bit soon, isn’t it? I can’t remember agreeing that there is an
us
. . .’
He grabbed her by both arms.
‘Come on, Molly. You’ve got to admit that was special. That wasn’t just a quick leg-over. Was it?’
‘I suppose not . . .’
‘We can’t just walk away from this.’
‘I’m not going to be your bit on the side, Joe.’
‘No. You’re not. I’m going to have to finish with her. But Molly . . .’
‘What?’ Molly narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
‘I can’t do it yet.’ Joe lit a roll-up. ‘My dad’s in the middle of a deal with her dad. They want to open a restaurant on the site. Tamara’s dad’s going to put up the cash. And he’s on the council, so he’s going to make sure they get planning permission. But if I dump Tamara . . .’
He trailed off, drawing hard on his cigarette.
‘He’ll pull out?’ said Molly. She wasn’t dim.
Joe nodded.
‘I can’t risk this deal falling through because of me. It would just prove everything that my parents have ever thought. That I’m a loser.’
‘I understand . . .’ Molly looked crestfallen.
‘It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. But I’m going to have to be careful. I’m going to have to choose the right time to tell her. The council meeting’s at the end of this month. Once they’ve got permission, the deal will go through. Then I can get rid of her. You’ve got to trust me, Moll. Will you wait?’
Molly managed a nod. She felt like a snow globe that had been picked up and shaken, her tummy filled with particles of shimmering glitter. Of course she’d wait for him. Until the end of time, if necessary. You didn’t pass up the chance to feel like this again for the rest of your life.
For the next four weeks, they carried on an intense, clandestine affair. Sometimes they didn’t make love. Sometimes they met in an out-of-the-way pub and held hands, fingers entwined, palms pressed close together. Sometimes they went to an empty caravan on the site and played house – making tea and watching videos wrapped in each other’s arms. Molly never nagged him about Tamara. That wasn’t her style. And in a way, she preferred it like this. She knew if their relationship was out in the open, the dynamics would change. They would have to take other people into consideration. There would be pressures. By keeping it secret, they kept it on their terms. If only, thought Molly, it could stay like that for ever . . .
‘Let’s run away, Moll.’ Some weeks later, they were lying on the grass on the very spot they’d first made love.
‘Where to?’
‘Dunno. Ireland, maybe? Somewhere wild and beautiful where you can be you and I can be me and we can have beautiful children and not put them under any pressure. Just take them fishing and to the fair and buy them fat ponies and live in a little cottage. I’ll play the guitar and you can bake bread—’
‘That’s sexist!’ murmured Molly, running her hand over the smooth skin on his stomach.
‘OK. I’ll bake the bread and you can play the guitar. I don’t mind, as long as we can be left just to get on with our lives.’
She wondered what pressure it was that he felt. To her, he seemed to have an ideal existence. Security, the freedom to do what he liked, parents who seemed to dote on him, despite what he claimed. Why on earth would you want to run away from that? He should try being brought up in a scummy flat in Tawcombe with a mother who didn’t give a shit and a father he’d never even seen.
‘What have you got to worry about?’ she demanded.
‘Everyone thinks I’m a loser. A waste of space . . .’
Molly looked surprised.
‘Like who?’
‘Everyone. My parents. Well, not so much my mum. But my dad. And my older brother. They seem to think I should be more responsible. That I should be wheeling and dealing. Putting on a suit, driving a posh car. But that’s not me. I don’t really give a toss about money.’
‘Try not having any,’ said Molly. ‘You might change your tune. Not having any money sucks.’
Joe eyed her thoughtfully.
‘You think the same, then? You think I should get myself a proper job? A career?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Molly replied. ‘But I don’t think you realize how lucky you are.’
Joe looked bleakly out to sea.
‘That’s what everyone keeps saying. But I don’t think they realize how difficult it is. Not living up to everyone’s expectations. I just want to have a
life
.’ He spat the last word out vehemently. ‘I just want to enjoy myself while I can.’
Molly was shocked at the expression in his eyes. It was as if a light had gone out. The devil-may-care Joe had disappeared. She slid her arms round his waist, anxious to reassure him.
‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘Exactly.’ He picked up a strand of her hair and wound it through his fingers. ‘You understand. That’s why I want us to run away together . . .’
Molly rolled into his embrace. To lie in his arms while he dreamed of a future with her was heaven, to be part of his fantasy filled her with a golden joy she couldn’t describe. And now he was kissing her, gentle, wonderful kisses, and then he was making love to her . . . proper
love
making, not screwing her, or shagging her, or getting his leg over, but engaging her in something that left her wordless and weeping and him mute with wonder. And thank goodness it seemed to dispel his black mood. His gloom had frightened her, because she wasn’t sure how to deal with it. Something she didn’t understand weighed heavy upon him.
Now he was looking down at her.
‘I’ve never felt like this before about anyone. You make me feel safe and happy. You make me want to . . . just be with you. You don’t put me under pressure. You don’t make demands on me. You don’t . . . expect anything.’
Molly shook her head, puzzled.
‘Expect anything? Like what?’
‘I can’t explain. You don’t expect me to toe the line. Be responsible. Play the game.’ He stroked her face. ‘It’s all bollocks. Because all I really care about is you. I love you, Molly.’
She’d never expected to be loved, especially not by someone like Joe. Suddenly it gave her a new perspective. And courage – the courage to go back on a decision she’d made two days before. She’d meant to keep it a secret, deal with it in the only way she knew how. But if what he was saying was true . . .
‘Do you really?’ She had to be sure.
He nodded.
‘I wouldn’t just say it. In fact, I’ve never said it before. Not to anyone. But I’m going to say it again. I love you.’
‘Me too,’ murmured Molly, melting at his touch. ‘I love you too.’
He hugged her tightly.
‘Where shall we go, Moll? What shall we do?’
‘Joe . . .’ Her nerve was going to fail her. She had to tell him.
He looked at her anxiously.
‘What? What is it? Don’t you want us to be together?’
She nodded, biting her lip. They’d tried to be careful, but just once or twice, she knew, passion had overtaken them, and crossing fingers had never been a reliable contraceptive.
‘I’m pregnant.’
His face was expressionless. She was filled with dread while she waited for his reaction. He was going to panic. He was going to totally freak. But then he smiled, his face filled with a joy that lifted her heart.
‘There you go, Molly. You see? We’re meant to be together.’ He held her tight, rocking her from side to side. ‘I’m going to tell Tamara it’s over. Then I’ll tell my parents.’
‘Are you sure? You don’t think it’s too soon?’
‘Too soon?’ He shook his head. ‘Too soon? If anything, we’ve left it rather late. I should have told them weeks ago.’ He gave her a squeeze. ‘You know what? My mum is going to be so thrilled. She loves babies. She’s always complaining because Bruno hasn’t got married yet. She’s desperate for a grandchild.’ He gave her another hug. ‘Just for once, maybe I’ll get one up on Bruno by giving my parents what they really want.’
Molly wasn’t so sure that what Mr and Mrs Thorne were after was an illegitimate grandchild via a skivvy from the campsite, but she didn’t say anything. She was so relieved that Joe appeared to be thrilled by her news; ever since she’d twigged that she was pregnant she’d been worried that would be the end of them, and that she would have to do the unthinkable. Her heart soared. She was having Joe’s baby, and he loved her.
The next day, Molly felt in a strange mood. Excited, elated and exhausted. The hormones of pregnancy were kicking in, sapping her strength. She just wanted to see Joe, to feel his arms around her, and for him to tell her it was all going to be OK. Even though she kept telling herself that of course it was. They loved each other, didn’t they? And she knew how to look after babies; she’d done enough childminding in her time, for neighbours. They just needed to sort out the practicalities. And bring it all out into the open . . .