One Perfect Summer

grin. ‘I thought something had happened to you! I was about to go to the pub to make sure you were okay!’
    ‘Really?’ He grins back at me, still out of breath. ‘You were going to risk facing my parents to check up on me?’
    ‘Of course!’
    He glances over my shoulder. ‘Is that your dad?’
    ‘Yes.’ I pull a face at him. ‘I meant to tell you last night that he wants to meet you.’
    He looks worried. ‘Okay.’ He stands up straight.
    We walk with trepidation towards the car. My dad puts down his electric window.
    ‘Hello,’ he calls as we get nearer.
    ‘Dad, this is Joe. Joe, Dad.’
    ‘Hello, Mr Simmons. Mrs Simmons.’ He nods at Mum in the front passenger seat while shaking Dad’s hand, extended through the window. I’m glad Dad doesn’t get out. This feels formal enough as it is.
    ‘Jim and Marie,’ Dad says good-naturedly, jabbing his thumb towards himself and Mum. ‘Alice says you live nearby?’
    Joe points across the field. ‘At the pub in the next village.’
    ‘Maybe we’ll stop there on the return journey.’
    That’s my cue to get back in the car.
    ‘That’d be great,’ Joe replies as I grimace inwardly. I have no intention of returning to the pub anytime soon.
    ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ I say to Dad, so he puts his window up. I lead Joe to the back of the car, out of view.
    ‘Will you come and see me again tonight?’ I ask.
    ‘It sounds like you’re coming to see me this afternoon,’ he replies.
    ‘If we don’t . . .’ I say awkwardly.
    ‘My parents will be okay,’ he tries to convince me. ‘I won’t let them bother you. Sit outside!’ he suggests brightly.
    ‘Okay,’ I reply with reluctance. ‘But if I don’t . . .’
    ‘I’ll be here at eleven thirty. Earlier closing time on Sundays.’
    ‘You’re knackered, though.’ I remember his reason for oversleeping. He’s had to walk all this extra distance to and from me for the last few days.
    ‘I’ll still come,’ he promises, cupping my face. I tilt my head up to kiss him. ‘You’d better go.’
    ‘I’ll see you later.’
    ‘At the pub,’ he urges.
    I nod and climb back in the car. He stands and watches until we’re out of sight. Dad waits until then to speak.
    ‘He seems nice.’
    ‘He is, isn’t he?’ I beam.
    ‘Don’t think much of the ring in his eyebrow, though.’
    I roll my eyes and smile. Nothing can dampen my mood today.
    I follow Joe’s advice early that evening and sit outside the pub when we arrive. Dad goes in to order, returning to the table with our drinks and a couple of packets of salted peanuts.
    Joe appears at the doorway and my heart flips. He sees me immediately and comes over.
    ‘Hello!’ I sit up straighter.
    ‘Hi.’ He looks delighted to see me, but he doesn’t kiss me in front of my parents. ‘How was the giant?’ he asks them.
    ‘Big!’ Mum exclaims.
    ‘Not what I was expecting,’ Dad replies huffily and Mum and I both giggle. The size of the giant’s enormous erect penis was what really put him off. Those Iron Agers were rude ! . . . If the chalk giant dates back to the Iron Age – no one is really sure.
    Joe sits down beside me, close, so our arms are touching. My hairs immediately stand on end and I wish the world around us would disappear so I could kiss him. I put my hand on his knee, under the table.
    ‘Have you had a busy day?’ Dad asks Joe.
    ‘It’s been pretty hectic, yeah.’
    ‘This is a stunning setting,’ Dad adds.
    ‘We’re lucky,’ Joe replies.
    We make chit-chat for a couple of minutes until Joe turns to me, regretfully. ‘I’d better get back to work before anyone notices I’m missing.’
    I nod, sadly.
    ‘It was nice to meet you,’ he says to my dad.
    ‘See you again soon, I imagine,’ Dad replies.
    Joe puts his hand on my hand, still resting on his knee under the table. He squeezes it. Mum and Dad turn to each other and pretend to be otherwise engaged.
    ‘Are you still coming tonight?’ I ask quietly.
    ‘Yes, if you want me to.’
    I nod swiftly and he smiles, kissing me quickly on the lips before standing up.
    ‘See you soon!’ he says cheerfully to my parents.
    I’m on edge until he’s safely back inside, then let out a deep breath.
    ‘I guess we should get going,’ Mum says.
    ‘I’m starving,’ Dad responds, knocking back the last of his half-pint of shandy. ‘And I’d better set off to London in an hour.’
    I hear Dyson whimpering as we pass the pub’s outside courtyard, and it pains