One Perfect Summer

quietly into the darkness.
    The dog appears around the corner and Joe visibly relaxes.
    ‘What is it?’ I press.
    ‘Nothing. I thought I could smell smoke.’
    ‘Smoke?’
    ‘Cigarette smoke.’
    I give him an inquisitive look.
    ‘Ryan,’ he says simply.
    Now I’m the one who’s tense. ‘Come back inside.’
    ‘No, no, it’s fine. It was probably just someone walking their dog. Dyson doesn’t seem worried.’
    It’s true. Dyson has flopped down at Joe’s feet.
    ‘Are you sure?’ I ask, feeling anxious.
    ‘Definitely. I’ll come by in the morning around ten.’
    I nod. ‘Okay.’
    ‘I’d better go before your dad gets back and realises I’ve been shagging his daughter.’
    I whack him on his arm.
    ‘Love you.’ He kisses me quickly.
    ‘You too.’
    And then he’s gone.

 
    At nine forty-five the next morning, I take my usual position outside on the bench. I’ve brought one of my course books – this time I’m trying to tackles Sophocles’ Oedipus – but no doubt I’ll sit and stare at the words and not take in any of them. I feel nervous when I think of starting university in a few weeks. I’m way behind on my preparation, and I do indeed like to be prepared. Maybe I will be a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl on this one occasion. The Greek Tragedies can’t compete with Joe.
    By ten past ten, Joe still hasn’t arrived. I try to tell myself he’s just slept in, but apart from the last time he did that he’s usually very punctual. By ten forty-five, I’m anxious. My dad comes outside.
    ‘Joe still not here?’ he asks.
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s probably just slept in again,’ he says nonchalantly, but his words do nothing to alleviate my concern. ‘He’s a big boy, he can look after himself.’
    I stand up, full of determination. ‘Can I borrow Mum’s car to go and check on him?’
    He frowns, finally taking me seriously. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he decides. ‘I don’t want you going there by yourself.’
    ‘Thanks, Dad.’ But I’m not ready to breathe a sigh of relief just yet.
    I stare out of the car window, but there’s no sign of Joe. My dad parks and comes with me, refusing to let me go alone. I check the side of the pub and nearly faint with relief when I see Dyson tied up there.
    ‘Dyson!’ I call.
    He stands up and starts to bark madly in my direction.
    ‘Shh!’ I exclaim, rushing over to him to try to stop him from alerting Joe’s parents. He’s deliriously happy as he licks my face and hands. ‘Where’s Joe?’ I ask him. He starts barking again and the fear and worry return.
    ‘I’ll go and check inside,’ my dad says.
    I turn back to Dyson. ‘Is he asleep?’ I ask him. He licks my face with his huge, slobbery tongue.
    ‘Argh!’ I bat him off good-naturedly.
    ‘Hello, beautiful.’
    The hairs on the back of my neck stand up instantly. Slowly I turn around to see who I can only assume to be Ryan, leaning against the pub’s back door. He’s taller than Joe – and bigger, much bigger. His arms are decorated with tattoos and his blond hair is shorn. Stubble that is almost a beard, but not quite, graces his jaw. He’s wearing a white vest like the one Joe’s dad was wearing on the first night we came to this pub.
    I stand up. Dyson crouches low and growls at him.
    ‘Fuck off,’ he says nastily to the dog. ‘Pathetic piece of shit.’
    I have an urge to back away, but I keep my feet firmly on the ground.
    Ryan takes a cigarette out of a crumpled packet in his pocket and puts it to his lips, lighting it with a match. He starts to walk towards me. Dyson’s growls grow louder.
    ‘Fuck off,’ he says again. I start to back away. ‘Hey, where are you going?’ he asks in a silky voice.
    My dad appears behind me. ‘Alice!’ he says.
    Understanding registers on Ryan’s face. ‘Ah,’ he says and his tone sends a chill spiralling down my spine. ‘So you ’ re Alice.’
    ‘Where’s Joe?’ I demand to know.
    ‘Alice, come,’ my dad interrupts. There’s urgency to his tone.
    ‘Where’s Joe?’ I turn this question on my dad. He takes my arm and marches me around the corner. ‘Dad?’
    I can hear Ryan chuckling darkly behind me.
    ‘He’s in hospital,’ Dad tells me as we get closer to the car, his lips set in a hard, thin line.
    ‘What?’ I exclaim, blood draining from my face.
    ‘Come on,’ he says, more gently this time. He opens the car door and pushes me inside. ‘We’ll go there.’
    ‘What happened?’ I ask as he