One Perfect Summer

. . .’
    But I’m not really listening to her rant, because I’m still thinking about the falling-for part. It doesn’t seem like such a slim possibility to me.
    By 10.15 the next morning, I’m sitting out on the bench trying to read Titus Andronicus . Mum was a bit disturbed when she discovered I was seeing Joe again so soon, so I promised to take a couple of books with me on our walk. I may stay at the cliffs and do some reading if Joe has to get back to the pub.
    Dyson appears at the gate before Joe does, but I force myself to calmly pack my book into my bag before going to meet him.
    ‘Thought I’d do some reading at the cliffs,’ I explain, slinging my bag over my shoulder.
    ‘What are you going to be studying?’ he asks as we set off down the track towards Dancing Ledge.
    ‘English Lit. It’ll probably be dead boring if Shakespeare is anything to go by.’
    ‘I’m sure you’ll have a laugh no matter what.’
    ‘I hope so.’
    ‘Are you excited?’ he asks.
    ‘Yes, I am, kind of. And a bit nervous. I haven’t spent much time away from home before.’
    ‘Where’s your dad?’ he asks.
    ‘He’s in London. He’s coming down tomorrow night for the weekend.’
    ‘Have you got lots of family things planned?’
    I shrug. ‘No, not really. You?’ I try to sound casual, but inside I’m desperately hoping we can see each other.
    ‘I have to work. Weekends are really busy at the pub.’
    ‘Oh, I see.’ Much as I want to, I can’t mask my disappointment.
    ‘You should stop by.’
    ‘I’m not sure that would go down too well with your parents.’
    ‘Nothing goes down well with my parents. You just have to learn to ignore them like I do.’ That’s bravado talking. It’s obvious their behaviour upsets him.
    We leave the track and enter the meadow, and soon we’re face to face with that spectacular view.
    Today the sea is sparkling like billions of diamonds. Butterflies flit around the wildflowers and a few boats with white sails glide through the water. I can hear the cry of gulls from the cliffs below.
    ‘Do you want something to eat?’ I ask, turning to Joe. ‘I brought some snacks.’
    ‘Good one,’ he says, so I open up my bag and pull out a picnic blanket. ‘A rug too? So organised,’ he teases.
    ‘That’s me,’ I reply.
    ‘That’s right,’ he says as he helps me lay out the rug, ‘you’re a planner.’
    ‘Bugger off,’ I joke.
    ‘Hey, nothing wrong with that.’
    He collapses down on the rug while I get out some crisps and drinks. I also brought a little plastic bowl for Dyson and I pour some water from a bottle into it.
    Joe laughs. ‘Okay, now you’re making me look bad.’
    ‘Do you have to work today?’ I ask.
    ‘Not till this afternoon. That’s one good thing about the pub – it doesn’t do lunch, so I’m not drafted in to work in the kitchen like I have been in the past.’
    ‘Does that mean you can cook?’
    ‘If shaking frozen scampi and chips into a sizzling pan of oil can be called cooking, then yes, I can cook. Otherwise, no.’
    He pulls over my bag and takes out a book. ‘So what are you supposed to be reading?’
    ‘Shakespeare and the Greek Tragedies.’
    He flicks through Titus . ‘What the hell? It looks like it’s written in a foreign language!’
    I laugh.
    ‘I can’t understand a bloody word.’
    ‘Neither can I, half the time.’
    He throws the book back down.
    ‘Did you really never want to go to university?’ I ask.
    He thinks for a moment. ‘I guess I didn’t see it as an option. My parents are not academically minded,’ he says with a raised eyebrow. ‘So they didn’t exactly encourage me, and with all the shit going on with my brother . . . Well, let’s just say school wasn’t my number one priority.’
    ‘When is your brother getting out of jail?’ I ask quietly.
    His face hardens. ‘He’s coming up for parole soon. I hope I’ll be out of here before that happens.’
    ‘Will he come back to live with your parents?’
    ‘Yep.’ His reply is curt. ‘I’ll take Dyson down the hill to give you some peace.’
    ‘You don’t have to,’ I say quickly. Studying is far from my mind at the moment – I’d rather spend time with Joe. But he and Dyson are already on their feet.
    ‘See you in a bit,’ he says.
    ‘Okay. Thanks,’ I reply.
    I watch him as he sets off down the steep grassy path. When he is finally out of sight I pick up a book. I sigh. I really can’t be bothered to read Shakespeare right