One Perfect Summer

dad at the other end of the bar serving another customer. He has his back to us. His mother is nowhere to be seen.
    ‘What are you drinking?’ Joe asks Lizzy, putting down one pint on the counter and pulling another.
    ‘Um . . .’
    ‘Cider?’ he asks me while she deliberates.
    ‘Yes, please.’
    ‘I’ll have one too,’ she says.
    ‘I’ll bring them out to you,’ he promises.
    I reach inside my bag to get my purse.
    ‘Alice,’ he tuts, shaking his head.
    ‘Are you sure?’ I check, hesitating.
    ‘Of course.’ He frowns and hands the two pints to a waiting customer.
    I smile and lead Lizzy out.
    ‘Oh. My. God,’ she says quietly.
    ‘What?’
    ‘He’s flipping gorgeous !’ she squeals under her breath.
    I burst out laughing with delight.
    Joe brings our drinks outside a few minutes later.
    ‘Sorry for the wait,’ he says, sitting down beside me. ‘It’s really busy tonight.’ He crosses his tanned arms on the table in front of him. He’s looking even more sexy than usual tonight, in black jeans and a grey T-shirt with a hot-pink surfer-style graphic on the front. He’s wearing a chunky watch with a worn brown leather strap on his wrist.
    Lizzy was insistent that we make a bit of an effort with our own outfits tonight, even though I told her this is just a small village pub. We’ve both got dark-blue jeans on, and Lizzy is wearing a black chiffon top, while I’m wearing a red and pink one. We changed into our heels from our trainers once we reached the road. Lizzy has blue eyes and shoulder-length brown hair, and tonight she’s ironed her slight curl out of it so it’s dead straight. I wanted to keep the tousled look to my long, dark hair because Joe told me the other day how much he likes it. But she insisted on putting eye-shadow on me – a smidgen of greeny-gold.
    ‘How’s your mum feeling?’ Joe asks Lizzy, who, to my glee, is blushing again.
    ‘She’s a lot better, thank you,’ Lizzy replies.
    ‘Did you come into Wareham Station?’ he checks.
    ‘That’s right.’
    He tries to make chit-chat with her, but she’s strangely lost for words.
    ‘I’d better get back to work,’ he says after a while.
    He kisses me quickly before standing up. ‘I’ll come and see you again in a bit,’ he tells us both. ‘I’ll bring out some more drinks for you. Same again?’
    ‘Sure.’ We both nod. We haven’t even started on these ones yet.
    He gets up and starts collecting empties.
    Lizzy looks across the table at me and grins. I know she wants to talk to me about Joe, but she can’t until he’s back inside. I’m acutely aware of his presence around us – I can hear him clinking glasses together from the other side of the beer garden, and when my ears fail me I seem to have an innate sense of his whereabouts, even when he’s behind me. Finally Lizzy raises her eyebrows and leans in for the kill.
    ‘Is he a good kisser?’
    ‘Mmm.’ I try to keep a straight face.
    ‘On a scale of one to ten?’ she asks.
    ‘Off the scale.’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Have you . . .’
    I know what’s coming.
    ‘No.’ I shake my head abruptly.
    ‘Okay.’ She seems to relax a bit. ‘But you really, really fancy him?’
    ‘Can’t you tell?’
    ‘Does he have a brother?’
    I start to laugh, then remember that it’s not funny. ‘He does, actually.’
    Her eyes light up.
    ‘But you’d never go there.’
    ‘Why not?’ she asks with a mixture of disappointment and curiosity.
    ‘He’s in jail.’
    I explain to her about Ryan – what I know of him, anyway.
    ‘Joe doesn’t talk about him much.’
    ‘Too busy kissing you,’ Lizzy teases. I don’t deny it. ‘I hope you’re not going to do a Pippa on me,’ she adds jokily.
    I try to laugh off her comment with a roll of my eyes. ‘Not likely,’ I reply.
    ‘Good,’ she says, laughing. But I know she’s worried. She’s worried about losing me, about us drifting apart, going in opposite directions . . . This is one relationship which she has no part of, and that’s unsettling.
    We move onto the subject of Joe’s parents.
    ‘Is that his dad behind the bar?’ she asks.
    ‘Yes. I don’t know where his mum is – with a bit of luck, she’s upstairs for the night.’
    ‘I can’t believe she called you a cheat in front of everyone! Still, he’s worth it, right?’ Another grin, another raised eyebrow.
    ‘I bloody hope so.’
    By ten thirty, my friend is fading, and we still have to walk home.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she