In the Summertime (31 page)

It was going to be close. Miranda and Jess stood with the boys, cheering the girls on as they tottered on their fragile craft and the waves from the inexpertly wielded paddle on the next raft threatened to upend them. Then, just when it looked as though the surfer would overtake, he leaned too far forward and fell in, coming up laughing and spluttering. The girls, clearly delighted, made it back to the shore where they leapt into the water and danced around, hugging each other.

‘Oh, sweet, they’re all bonded!’ Jessica said, tears in her eyes.

‘Like us,’ Miranda said, giving her a hug too.

Just then a small plane headed towards the village, swooping low. It carried a streamer, the sort that usually advertised things like the Flambards theme park. Everyone was gazing up at it and a bit of quiet descended as they read the message.

‘Cripes, I wonder who that’s for?’

Miranda squinted up. ‘“Marry me?” Bloody hell, that must have cost a bit to fix. Wonder who it’s for?’ There was a squeal beside her and Cheryl was jumping up and down. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ she screamed, waving at the plane. ‘Oh God, yes!’ She grabbed Miranda and hugged her. ‘Lucky lucky me!’ she squealed in her ear.

‘Er … congratulations!’ Miranda said. Well, what else could you do?

‘Talk to me, Steve. And are congratulations in order?’ Miranda, back at the house, left a voicemail message for him. She had less than twenty-four hours to make up with him, whether this was going to be just a civilized goodbye or some better kind of sorting out.

The children were going out to the beach. ‘It’s not exactly a party, Mum, just, you know, an end of holidays thing. And it
is
my birthday,’ Silva said. Miranda noticed she was doing that more grown-up look again. Eyeshadow and blusher and lip gloss, though not a lot of it. Not a London amount.

‘No drink.’

‘No drink. Promise.’

‘And … just be careful, OK? Don’t go in the sea in the dark or anything silly.’

‘We’ll probably be back before dark,’ Bo said. ‘It’s not all that, a beach bash. And it gets cold.’ He was huddling into a hoodie again. Fragile boy, feeling the cold, Miranda thought. Her phone beeped: text message. ‘Sailing club at 8?’ It was Steve and her heart rate leapt.

She texted back. ‘OK.’

They were all older than her and Lola and Bo, and possibly even than Freddie, Silva thought, eyeing the others on the beach. And worse, they all seemed to know each other. This was her birthday and she wanted to feel that everything was about her, but really it looked
as if it was going to be about the ya-ya girls with the flicky hair and a really silly way of holding cigarettes. She and her friends sat on their usual rock with some beers and Cokes and looked at the ones who flirted and shrieked and passed vodka bottles and spliffs around. Freddie seemed to know some of them (‘from school’ he said, looking a bit embarrassed) and they seemed friendly enough, but Silva felt out of her depth. Jules was there but he wasn’t looking her way, but then at last he saw her and came over, offering her something from an unmarked bottle.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘Home brew.’ He laughed. ‘By which I don’t mean, like literally, just a mix of stuff from actual home. Think there’s gin and vodka and maybe some rum.’

‘Looks like piss to me,’ Bo said, looking grumpy. Silva wanted to kick him but he was too far away.

‘Yeah, well I’m not asking
you
to drink it, am I?’

‘You shouldn’t be asking her,’ Bo retaliated.

‘Shu’up, Bo,’ Silva warned him. ‘I can look after myself.’

And she could, she decided as she wandered away from the others, down the beach with Jules. She glanced back. Freddie was watching her, not smiling, looking worried. She’d be OK. What could happen?

Old jeans, flip-flops and hardly any make-up. The hardly-any that takes ages to put on. Miranda grabbed a
long blue cashmere cardie and her bag and shouted goodbye to Harriet, Duncan and Clare.

She raced down the track and up the lane towards the sailing club then slowed to catch her breath. She didn’t want Steve to think she’d run all the way to meet him.

He was there, sitting at a table on the balcony. No sign of Cheryl. Not that she’d expected to see her, not after the sky-written sign that afternoon. Steve had a sense of humour but she couldn’t see him spending an absolute bomb to ask a question that could so much more easily be done in private and for free. It seemed, frankly, a rather tacky and dumb thing to do.

‘Miranda. I thought you might change your mind. Drink?’ He didn’t kiss her. She sat down, said a spritzer might be nice and waited, looking out over the harbour and part of the beach, while he went to the bar.

‘Could we go further away? There are too many people up here,’ he suggested when he returned with the drinks. There was a small terrace garden beyond the doors and they went through and found no one else there. They sat together on an old rusty metal bench. Miranda took a small sip of her drink then put it on the table, waiting for him to say something, but as he seemed to be finding that difficult she asked the question Jess had told her she needed to know.

‘Were there any fish in the van?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘How did you know?’

‘Jessica, by way of Cheryl. I didn’t believe her.’

‘Believe her.’ He took her hand. ‘I just wanted to be useful.’ He smiled. ‘No, that’s not true. I wanted to spend time with you.’

‘But we could have just gone out for dinner here, or sat on the beach or something.’

‘Or gone out in the boat. I know. It’s just, when I heard the early morning news about the trains being cancelled, I saw the chance and took it.’

‘You nearly missed me.’

‘No I didn’t. You’d never have got past that tree.’

‘This is true. But … I don’t understand. Why did you just race off after … you know?’

‘After that fabulous night? God, I don’t know. I just thought back, suddenly, when that bloody
husband
of yours …’

‘Ex.’

‘Ex. Arrogant prick. He reminded me of when we were young and you and your mates, you were so … you know,
exclusive
? Do you know what I mean? There’d been you and me and all that we did and I really,
really
liked you, but when they all turned up it was like, bye-bye yokel Steve, these are my real mates.’

Miranda took a sip of her drink. ‘Oh God, was that how we were?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid you were.’

‘It wasn’t an easy summer for me, that one.’

‘Oh, really?’ He laughed, not without a touch of bitterness. ‘I used to watch you having a “not easy”
summer. All privilege and indulgence and not seeming to care for anyone outside your own circle. I don’t know, some bits of us don’t grow up as well as they should. You’re not like that now.’

‘I didn’t think I was like that then. Maybe we just didn’t know each other that well.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘Hey, you wait till you have children of your own … see how they change, how they grow, and you think you know them but then they slide through your fingers.’

‘I won’t have children,’ he said.

‘You might. You’re still young.’

‘It’s not that. I … er, don’t think I actually can.’

Miranda didn’t know what to say. She felt all chewed up inside. How could he think that? Had he had mumps or chemotherapy or something since that long-ago summer?

‘Why do you think so?’

‘Oh, just … when I was married I thought Janie was on the pill. I knew she wanted children but I didn’t so she agreed we’d wait. But then later she told me she hadn’t taken it for a year, and nothing had happened.’

Miranda gasped. ‘Jesus, Steve, what makes you think it was you?’

He laughed. ‘The fact she’s now down the school gates every day with her two little boys by her new husband?’

She took a deep breath. Something had to be said.
‘Steve, there was something that summer. There was no point in saying anything before because it went away. It just … wasn’t to be. Not that time.’

‘What wasn’t?’

‘I was pregnant.’ He looked at her, those grey eyes wondering, searching for answers. ‘I lost the baby at about eleven weeks. And yes, it was you. There wasn’t anyone else, never before and not for about two years after you. So no doubts.’ She could feel her eyes filling. This was likely to be the moment where he told her what a heartless bitch she was and stormed away for ever.

‘That’s so sad.’

She sniffed and fished a tissue out of her bag. ‘Is it? I was only sixteen, Steve. But yes, sad. I … er, Jess and me, we had a little funeral on the beach. I said a prayer and we went to the pub.’

She waited, feeling slightly sick. She didn’t want her drink. She leaned back against the bench, feeling the rust crunch against her shoulders.

Steve was still silent. But a moment later he slid his arm round her and pulled her close against him.

‘You poor kid. It must have been horrendous.’

‘It wasn’t fun, no,’ she wept into his warm shoulder. But a little part of her was beginning to think, but maybe something could be … one day.

‘And it seems Freddie clouted the Jules boy and shoved
him off the rock into a deep pool.’ Harriet was laughing. ‘He’s a hero!’

They were all outside in the sun by the pool, loving the warmth, and Miranda was wishing it wasn’t her last day. Steve was on the lounger beside her, having brought the newspapers for them and a bottle of wine which they were now drinking. She was glad to see him and dreaded going home. But she’d be seeing him soon. Seeing him for ever, she hoped.

‘And of course the poor boy hadn’t known she was only just fourteen and not really up for that kind of rolling in the sand dunes. And ugh, you two,’ Harriet said to Steve and Miranda, ‘will you get over yourselves and stop looking so loved up?’

‘You can talk,’ Steve said. ‘I saw you at the Pengarret, all gooey-eyed with Mr Goalkeeper.’

‘And I saw you. But what I didn’t see was that you were also with your mum.’

‘Birthday,’ he said. ‘She likes a treat.’

Miranda picked up the nearest paper. ‘Oh, wow, would you look at this?’ She held up the front page, on which there was a photo of a couple looking even more lovingly at each other than Steve and Miranda had been. ‘“Reformed man: the power of love” it says here.’

Cheryl and Pablo beamed out from the front page against the background of the Pengarret hotel’s famous wedding arch. ‘The engagement is announced …’ she read.

‘Well, I hope they’ll be very happy,’ Harriet said, raising her glass. ‘In fact, I hope we all will.’

Judy Astley
became an author of witty contemporary novels after several years as a dressmaker, illustrator, painter and parent. She has two daughters and lives in London and Cornwall.

For more information on Judy Astley and her books, see her website at
www.judyastley.com

JUST FOR THE SUMMER

PLEASANT VICES

SEVEN FOR A SECRET

MUDDY WATERS

EVERY GOOD GIRL

THE RIGHT THING

EXCESS BAGGAGE

NO PLACE FOR A MAN

UNCHAINED MELANIE

AWAY FROM IT ALL

SIZE MATTERS

ALL INCLUSIVE

BLOWING IT

LAYING THE GHOST

OTHER PEOPLE’S HUSBANDS

THE LOOK OF LOVE

I SHOULD BE SO LUCKY

For more information on Judy Astley and her books, see her website at
www.judyastley.com

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First published in Great Britain in 2013 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers

Copyright © Judy Astley 2013

Judy Astley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781446465394
ISBN 9780593067567

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