One Perfect Summer

have to shell out for rent, so it’s taken longer than I wanted it to.’
    ‘Couldn’t you work somewhere else that pays better?’
    ‘Not without moving out and then I’d still have the rent problem. I’ll be doing that soon enough. I just have to stick it out for a couple more months.’
    A feeling of melancholy engulfs me. I’ve known Joe for only a few days, but the thought of losing him in under six weeks already feels unbearable.
    ‘You not hungry?’ He nods at the sandwich that I’ve barely touched.
    ‘No.’ I shake my head.
    He lies down and pulls me to him for a kiss. The sound of a car in the driveway makes us both jump away from each other.
    ‘My mum must be back.’
    ‘I’d better get going.’ He stands up.
    ‘You don’t have to rush off . . .’
    ‘I should get back, anyway. My shift starts in an hour.’
    ‘Okay.’ I’m disappointed.
    He goes out through the back garden gate to the driveway. I follow him to see my mum trying to open the car door without hitting Dyson. The dog starts to bark with excitement.
    ‘Sorry!’ Joe shouts. He seems to do a lot of apologising for his pooch. He hurries to the car and grabs Dyson’s collar, dragging him away so Mum can get out.
    ‘Hello, there,’ she says, and there’s an undercurrent to her tone which is not as pleasant as it usually is when speaking to my friends. It makes me feel nervous. I suppose she’s still smarting about Joe’s mum the other night.
    ‘Hi, Mrs . . . Sorry, I don’t know Alice’s last name.’
    ‘Simmons,’ Mum and I answer simultaneously. ‘But you can call me Marie. Did you have a nice walk?’ she asks.
    ‘Yeah, it was nice.’
    I realise that Joe is nervous, although for different reasons to me. It endears me to him even more, if that’s possible.
    ‘I was just leaving,’ he says, struggling to hold Dyson back.
    ‘I’ll see you out,’ I say, indicating the front gate. He goes through and lets go of Dyson’s collar. The dog shoots off down the track.
    Joe turns back to close the gate, leaving me on the other side. ‘Are you around tomorrow?’ he asks.
    ‘Tomorrow and for the next six weeks,’ I reply with a smile.
    ‘Five and a half,’ he corrects and my heart sinks. ‘Shall I swing by in the morning?’ he asks, oblivious.
    ‘Sounds good.’ That’s a lie. Tomorrow is too bloody far away.
    ‘Okay. Is nine too early?’
    ‘Nope.’ Six a.m. would be better. I’d even be happy with five. This evening would be ideal. Actually, if you could just not leave at all, that would be pretty much perfect.
    ‘See you.’ He glances over my shoulder at Mum, who is unpacking the last of her things from the car. He starts to walk away as she heads inside to the kitchen.
    ‘Joe!’ I call and he spins around. I beckon for him to come back and then I lean over the gate. ‘You forgot something.’
    He grins and kisses me quickly, then turns to leave.
    ‘Hang on.’ I grab his arm. ‘What’s your surname?’
    ‘Strickwold.’
    ‘Joe Strickwold,’ I repeat.
    ‘It’s a bit of a tongue-twister.’ My fingers fall away from his bicep into his warm hand as he steps away. ‘Till tomorrow?’
    ‘Yes.’ I nod, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Then he’s off.

 
    ‘You’ve moved your relationship onto the next level already,’ Mum teases when I walk back into the kitchen with a spring in my step.
    ‘You saw that, did you?’ I feel my face heat up.
    ‘A bit hard not to. The window is right there.’
    ‘How was your day?’ I change the subject. Thankfully, she lets me.
    ‘Very good. I went to Lulworth Cove and picked up a few bits and bobs. I found a fossil of a sea snail or something like that. I want to go back in the morning. You should come with me. It’s very pretty.’
    ‘Um, no, I can’t,’ I reply. ‘Joe’s coming to get me at nine.’
    ‘Joe again?’ Uh-oh. I know that tone. ‘Aren’t you seeing a bit too much of him?’
    ‘God, Mum, it’s only been a few days,’ I reply huffily. I hate it when she questions me like this. I’m eighteen, for pity’s sake. ‘I thought you wanted me to make friends?’
    ‘Friends? Is that what you are?’ Her tone is wry.
    ‘Well, you know . . .’
    ‘I just don’t want you to let your work suffer.’
    ‘I won’t. I’ve got weeks of summer sprawled out before me. I’ll get it done,’ I say, forcing breeziness into my tone.
    She smiles at me. ‘I guess you know what you’re doing.’
    ‘I do. Show me the fossil,