One Perfect Summer

stay there,’ he commands, coming inside and closing the gate behind him.
    He engulfs me in his arms and holds me tight. I can feel his heart hammering hard inside his chest. I’ve been terrified he wouldn’t come.
    I try to pull away, but he’s reluctant to let me go. I look up at him. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, but he won’t meet my eyes. ‘Joe?’
    He looks down at me and his eyes fill with tears. He gulps in a mouthful of air and I can tell he’s trying not to sob. He exhales, shakily. ‘It’s okay,’ I murmur, squeezing him tightly.
    ‘It’s not,’ he whispers. He pulls away. The look on his face is scaring me. ‘My brother gets out tomorrow.’
    ‘Out of jail?’
    He nods, and then his anguish turns to bitterness. ‘My parents couldn’t even be bothered to tell me.’
    ‘But they told you tonight? What happened?’ I pull him to the bench and he sits down beside me.
    It takes a long time for him to answer. ‘I was so angry with my mum for speaking to you like that. I told her I’d leave if she ever spoke to you like that again.’
    ‘What did she say?’
    Pause. ‘She laughed at me.’
    He’s not even angry about it. He’s just so hurt. I can feel his pain, because it’s mine too.
    ‘Then she told me Ryan would prefer my room to his, anyway.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ I say after a while. ‘How could you not know this was going on?’
    ‘I hardly speak to them. I hardly ever see them,’ he admits. ‘We don’t talk when we’re working, and I’m out of the pub the second I can get away.’
    It’s true, I’ve seen him practically every minute that he’s not working.
    ‘Is your dad here?’ he asks suddenly, looking back up at the dark cottage.
    ‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘He and Mum were already in bed by the time we got back. Lizzy’s asleep,’ I add, although I’m not sure if that’s true. I hope she can’t hear us. Our bedroom overlooks the front garden and is just metres away above our heads. ‘Shall we go for a walk?’
    ‘I don’t want to keep you up.’
    ‘Joe . . .’ I say tenderly.
    We walk down the lane, passing the last few cottages. Dyson runs ahead of us and we can hear his nose sniffing and his paws padding further along the dirt track. There’s a full moon tonight, and the air is unnervingly still. We go through a gate into a field and sit down on the grass up against a dry stone wall. It feels better to be out here alone. Well, alone except for Dyson. But his presence is comforting. Joe looks past me, deep in thought.
    ‘What are you thinking about?’
    He shakes his head abruptly. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Tell me.’
    Finally he answers. ‘I don’t want to go back.’ Pause. ‘But I have to.’
    ‘Do you really have to?’
    ‘My money is hidden under my mattress, for one.’
    ‘Don’t you have a bank account?’ I ask with a frown.
    ‘My parents don’t exactly do things by the book,’ he says with a wry smile. ‘They pay me in cash.’ His face hardens. ‘I can’t believe he’s coming back tomorrow. It’s been four years since I’ve seen him.’
    ‘How old is he?’
    ‘Twenty-six.’
    ‘Maybe he’s changed?’
    ‘No. No. He hasn’t changed.’
    ‘But you have.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ he asks.
    ‘You were only fourteen when you last saw him. You’ve grown a lot since then.’
    ‘He’ll still be bigger – and stronger – than me.’
    ‘Bloody hell, Joe, I don’t mean I want you to fight him!’
    ‘I’d kill him if he ever touched you.’
    ‘Stop it! Why would he touch me, anyway?’
    ‘To get at me.’
    He pulls away roughly, as though the thought angers him too much to be near me.
    ‘What did he do to you?’ I ask carefully. ‘Did he used to beat you up?’
    Nothing, and then he nods.
    ‘Often?’ I ask.
    ‘Once I ended up in hospital.’ I have to strain to hear him. ‘My parents told the police that I’d fallen downstairs. They threatened to leave me on the streets if I ever told anyone the truth.’
    I gasp. ‘How old were you?’
    ‘Six.’
    ‘Six!’ My eyes widen with horror. ‘Six?’
    He nods.
    ‘Oh, my God, Joe, that is awful.’
    ‘That wasn’t the first time he hurt me and my parents did nothing about it. Or the last,’ he says bitterly. ‘They don’t care about me.’
    He’s said this once before, but I didn’t believe it then.
    ‘No wonder you want to get away . . .’
    He turns to look at me. ‘The only thing keeping me here now is you,’ he says simply.
    We kiss, gently at first,