One Perfect Summer

style of dress for myself.
    ‘Did you tell your parents you were seeing me today?’ I dare to ask.
    ‘Did I bollocks.’
    ‘What do they think you’re doing?’
    ‘Who knows? They don’t give a toss what I do, as long as Dyson’s out of the way.’
    The train chuffs out of the station with a whistle and a hiss. Joe casually puts his foot up on my seat. ‘So what are you doing, going on holiday with your parents at your age?’
    I tell him about Lizzy and his amusement dies.
    ‘That sucks.’
    I called Lizzy last night. It was a sombre conversation. Her mum is having the operation to remove the lump in her breast this afternoon, so she’s nervous. I’ll call her later to find out how the op went.
    ‘Do you have many friends around here?’ I ask Joe.
    ‘Nah. We moved only a couple of months ago and I don’t go to school anymore, so . . .’ His voice trails off. ‘It’s not really worth making friends if I’m going to be leaving.’
    ‘That’s right, you’re off to London,’ I say with a teasing smile. ‘What are you going to do there?’
    He shrugs. ‘I don’t know yet. Get a job. See what comes up, where life takes me . . .’
    ‘That’s very carefree of you. I couldn’t stand that. I’m a planner.’
    ‘I can tell.’
    ‘How can you tell?’ I feel slightly affronted.
    He smiles playfully. ‘Just can.’
    ‘Well, maybe I’ll surprise you one of these days.’
    ‘Maybe you will.’ He holds my gaze and my stomach goes all jittery. The feeling intensifies tenfold as the seconds tick by and neither of us looks away, then Dyson shifts position at our feet, distracting us both. I really need to get a grip.
    We pass through Herston Halt station and Harman’s Cross with its pretty flowers planted on the banks, and then it’s green fields galore until we reach Corfe Castle.
    ‘What do you want to do?’ Joe asks me as we wander up the street towards the town’s small centre. ‘Are you hungry?’
    My stomach rumbles its own reply, but he doesn’t hear, thankfully. ‘I am a bit. Where shall we go?’
    ‘I don’t know. It’s my first time here too, remember.’
    ‘That’s right. I can’t believe you haven’t brought other girls before now.’
    He cracks up laughing. ‘I haven’t met any other girls!’
    ‘Sure you haven’t. You met me pretty quickly.’
    ‘Your mum made that introduction. And then Dyson followed up on it. I haven’t lived here long enough to know anyone else.’
    ‘What about girls on holiday?’ I don’t know where my confidence is coming from to ask him these questions, but talking to him is amazingly easy.
    ‘Summer holidays have only just started.’
    I instantly feel crushed.
    ‘I don’t mean . . .’ He quickly corrects himself. ‘I mean no one my age has been around, girls or guys. Anyway, now you’re here you can keep me company.’ Pause. ‘If you want to.’
    He blushes! He actually blushes!
    ‘Of course I do,’ I say, happily. So it’s not just me. ‘Oh, look! There’s the castle.’
    We continue in the direction of the ruined castle sitting on top of a steep hill. Ivy clings to its crumbling walls, and people wander along the grassy slopes beside it.
    ‘What about that café for lunch?’ I point up ahead.
    We enter the café and go through to the other side, into the garden. Corfe Castle towers right there above us and it’s quite something to be able to sit at a table with this view and not even have to pay an entry fee to walk through the nearby gates.
    Joe is wearing a faded yellow Kingmaker T-shirt today and black jeans. I nod at his top.
    ‘I love Kingmaker.’
    ‘What’s your favourite song?’
    ‘“Really Scrape the Sky” is brilliant, but my favourite has got to be “You and I Will Never See Things Eye to Eye”.’
    He smiles. ‘Me too. I always imagine that playing at the beginning of a film.’
    ‘Yeah! That would be so cool. The way the bass kicks in just before the vocals . . .’
    ‘Exactly.’
    I laugh. ‘I’ll think of you if I ever see a film that has that on its soundtrack.’
    ‘Maybe I’ll put a Kingmaker question in next week’s quiz,’ he jokes.
    ‘Oh, God, don’t.’ I bury my head in my hands. ‘Last night was mortifying.’ I peek through my fingers at him, but he’s not smiling.
    ‘I’m sorry. My parents hate me.’
    ‘That’s a crazy thing to say.’
    He shakes his head, his expression bitter, then stares down at his hands.
    ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ I ask