But at some point, I stopped listening.
‘Did you know that?’ He grinned at me.
‘Know what?’ I’d lost all track of what he was saying.
‘Any of this! What were you doing when we did the Industrial Revolution at school?’
Thinking about you, I mused.
He started up again, about how in water-powered mills, the force of the water drove the turbine’s blades, which powered the whatever-the-heck-it-was?—
‘Shane, stop it!’ I commanded.
‘What?’ He stared at me.
‘Stop the history lesson. Stop the turbines and water wheels?—’
‘What, and cut the power?’ He grinned.
I laughed at his rubbish joke, and then I stopped laughing and we stood there, just looking at each other. And then we kissed.
I closed my eyes and everything else – the rusting machinery, the charred remains of fires and pigeons flapping around – melted away. It was just us. We kissed and kissed and kissed. The mill was smelly and damp, yet this is where we did it: up against a crumbling wall. My first time; his too. We were seventeen. It was hardly the location of dreams, but it was perfect.
In the days that followed we’d clicked straight back into our usual banter. The teasing was constant – it was just the way we were. His love of Hula Hoop sandwiches, the way he’d get drunk on two beers and the fact that he’d once bought a Rick Astley record; all of it was fair game. And he took it all so good-naturedly. Occasionally, he even threw it back at me. I loved that because it meant I had his attention, and that our bond was strong – even if it wasn’t the kind I yearned for.
I never told Ravi what had happened, and I was certain that Shane wouldn’t either. We knew the rules – that the band came first, and that she’d hate it if we were together. She’d never said it as such; it was just a feeling. And to admit to fancying Shane – to loving him, as I did – would have been unthinkable.
I wasn’t even sure whether he wanted to be with me. We never talked about it – but both of us knew what had happened, that day of the sunburn and chips.
It happened one more time, three years later, and I haven’t forgotten that either. These are the things I want to tell Shane as he drives the ambulance, competently and smoothly – at least, as smoothly as Doris will allow – towards Bridlington. That I remember every detail, and that none of it has faded over time.
However, I don’t say any of that. Instead, I lower my window and breathe in the briny air, and focus on the road ahead.
22
SHANE
There was nothing she wanted to talk about, Josie assured him after the panicky episode. She didn’t want to see if she could get a prescription dispatched to a chemist in Bridlington. She didn’t know if you could even do that, and although he was tempted, Shane managed not to google it on her behalf.
He had a feeling that that would not go down very well.
Instead, he has driven them to a small, well-tended campsite on the outer edge of Bridlington. The sun has pierced through the clouds and, as they park up under the shade of a tree, things are looking good. A poster on the noticeboard announces a barbecue happening later, and Josie is cheered by the fact that they’re within walking distance of the beach.
‘Fancy a swim now?’ she asks.
‘Sure!’
She beams at him. ‘I’ll get changed in the showers. Put my swimsuit on underneath…’ In the back of the ambulance she rummages through her rucksack, pulling out items chaotically until she finds her costume. Shane gazes down at the array of discarded clothing. ‘Won’t be a minute!’ she says and scampers off, as if they’re just two friends enjoying a trip to the coast.
Sometimes Shane almost forgets how bizarre this is, and that they are only together under Ravi’s instruction. How he’d worried about what it would be like, and what they’d do, apart from drive from place to place. How on earth would they fill five whole days together? It wasn’t as if he knew her any more – the kind of person she is, or what she enjoys. In panic, he’d done a bit of research and reassured himself that there were several places of interest they could visit along the way. However, even the thought of a trip to the Pontefract Museum, with its extensive display on the town’s liquorice heritage, had failed to steady his nerves.
While Josie is in the shower block, Shane changes whippet-fast into his swimming shorts and pulls his sweatshirt and jeans back on. Then, fully dressed, with rolled-up towels tucked under their arms, they stroll across the campsite and follow the sandy path towards the beach.
It’s a retro British seaside postcard come to life, Shane decides. There are candyfloss stalls, and a machine you can post a penny into and it’ll come out flattened. With a flicker of pride Shane discovers that he does, in fact, possess a single penny in his wallet. ‘Just what I always wanted,’ Josie announces, laughing, as the coppery sliver drops from the machine.
On the long sweep of golden sand, children are riding on donkeys and screaming as gulls dive-bomb for chips. Kiosks are offering hot sugary doughnuts and waffles with every topping imaginable, and day trippers are posing for photos against the peeling railings, the backdrop a wash of milky blue sky.
‘Oh, this is lovely!’ Josie turns to Shane and smiles.
