One Perfect Summer

my horror, I find my dad watching a nature documentary. My stomach falls. ‘Did you change the channel?’ I demand to know.
    ‘Sorry,’ he says flippantly, throwing me the remote. ‘I got fed up waiting.’
    ‘But did you record it?’ I ask anxiously. Please say you did, please say you did . . .
    ‘No,’ he replies.
    ‘Bloody hell!’ I cry, hurrying to change the channel back.
    ‘It’s only a television show, Alice,’ Mum chides, settling herself back on the sofa.
    I find the channel in time to see Joe laughing quietly. ‘It’s a deal,’ he says.
    ‘Thank you very much, Joseph Strike!’ The audience roars and Andy Carl turns to camera. ‘We’ll be back after the break . . .’
    ‘For fuck’s sake!’ I exclaim.
    ‘ALICE!’ my dad berates me.
    I never say ‘fuck’ in front of them. I rarely say it at all. I storm out of the room.
    ‘What on earth is wrong with her?’ I hear my mum ask as I run up the stairs, close to tears.
    I’ll have to look it up on the internet. I hurry into my dad’s study and shut the door, then switch on his computer. It takes forever to start up, but finally I get going with my search. I’m not sure it’s on iPlayer yet . . . The phone rings again and I ignore it. I don’t want to speak to anyone; my parents can get it. I realise I’m acting like a sulky teenager, but too bad.
    ‘Alice!’ Mum calls up the stairs. ‘It’s for you!’
    For pity’s sake, who is it now? If it’s Lukas again I’ll give him an earful.
    I pick up the phone and snap into the receiver: ‘Hello?’
    ‘It’s Lizzy.’
    ‘Oh, hi,’ I say with zero enthusiasm.
    ‘Did you see it?’
    ‘No, I bloody well didn’t. My dad changed the channel.’
    ‘I recorded it,’ she says breathlessly. ‘Can you come round?’
    ‘Yes!’
    I practically run all the way to her flat. She gleefully opens the door to me. ‘Quick. It’s ready to go.’
    I hurry into the living room and sit on the sofa. She sits next to me and presses Play. We get past the introductions and the general chat about Joe’s new film and then we come to the nitty-gritty.
    ‘None of your relationships have lasted more than a few weeks,’ Andy Carl says. ‘What’s with that? Don’t you like women?’
    The audience gasps with shock and delight at Andy’s forthright interviewing style. Joe laughs.
    ‘Because I might be able to help you out, if you don’t,’ Andy adds with a flirtatiously raised eyebrow.
    Cue more outraged laughter.
    ‘Thank you,’ Joe says, joke-sincerely. ‘But I do like women. I just haven’t found the right one yet.’
    ‘Aaaaahhhh.’ The audience joins in, but quick as a flash Andy moves on. ‘You’re clearly far too picky.’
    Joe laughs.
    Andy leans forward with over-exaggerated interest. ‘Or maybe you’re scarred . . .’
    Joe shrugs and Andy’s eyes widen. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat.
    ‘You are ! Who was she?’
    Joe looks awkward.
    ‘Tell me! Was she the one that got away?’
    ‘It wasn’t like that.’
    ‘What was it like, then? First love?’
    ‘Well . . .’
    Andy’s eyes widen even further. They look like they could pop out of his head. ‘You never got over your first love?’
    ‘Does anyone?’ Joe replies, trying to sound casual. My heart is in my throat.
    ‘Well, yeah, if they’re an utter shit like mine was,’ Andy says. ‘But we won’t go into that. Tell me about you ! Who was she? What was her name ?’
    ‘Aah . . .’ He shifts in his seat.
    ‘Julie?’ Pause. ‘Katherine?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Sarah?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Jennifer? I could go on . . .’
    ‘I bet you could.’ Joe raises one eyebrow. God, he’s sexy.
    ‘Kim? Gertrude? Annabel?’ Pause. ‘Just tell us!’
    ‘Her name was Alice, if you must know.’
    Oh, my God! I fall off the sofa and scramble over to sit right in front of the television.
    ‘Alice! You never forgot about Alice. Aww! Where is she?’
    ‘I don’t know. We lost touch a long, long time ago.’
    ‘But you still love her?’
    ‘I’ve never stopped loving her.’
    I nearly die, then and there.
    The audience ‘aah’, and Andy clutches his hand to his chest and wipes away an imaginary tear. ‘Maybe we can find her for you.’ He turns to the audience before Joe can react. ‘Does anyone know an Alice?’
    A couple of people whoop. ‘You do? Perhaps we need a little more to go on.’ He turns back to Joe. ‘Alice Who? What’s her last name?’
    Joe shifts uncomfortably and looks down. ‘Oh . . . I