The drive was long. Soon, concrete turned to hedges, then hedges to drystone walls. The sea appeared on the horizon. I remember feeling very small.
The hotel was run-down but nice enough. Naturally, Marcie and I were sharing a room. Always forced to share, even when there wasn’t ever enough for two. I set my suitcase down on the purple patterned carpet and began to unpack. Neatly, as I had all those years ago in our grandparents’ attic. Marcie sat on the bed, texting. She hadn’t silenced her phone. The incessant tapping noise set my teeth on edge.
We had lunch at the hotel. I picked at a soggy fish-and-chips and left most of it.
“I just don’t know how I’m going to do aweekaway from him,” Marcie said to Mum.
“Do you want to come with me and see what’s in the rock pools?” Dad turned to me, lowering his voice like we were coconspirators. We were not coconspirators. I no longer trusted him. Not after he betrayed me.
“No, thanks.”
I was forced to accompany them down to the beach anyway. Marcie linked her arm through Mum’s as we navigated the craggy coastal path. To our right, the cliff fell away into a steep drop. The sea stretched into the horizon. I could see the tiny white sail of a boat.
The beach was not as picturesque as Mum had made it sound. Seaweed tangled with blue plastic netting had washed onto the shingle. Mum spread four towels out. I sat on one and wished I’d brought a book, or something to signal that I wasn’t keen to be drawn into conversation.
Dad went to look in the rock pools anyway. Mum and Marcie chatted about Billy. Each time they spoke his name, a small electric jolt traveled through me. Even after everything that had happened.
The boys arrived in the late afternoon. There were three of them. Tall, muscular, tanned, they carried that air of people who had never wanted for anything. They clocked Marcie instantly and flexed their sinewy muscles.
Marcie had seen them, too. I could tell from the way she adjusted herself. The way she subtly moved away from Mum so that she could no longer run her hand through her hair. She leaned back so that her stomach was flat and taut. Periodically, her eyes flicked toward the newcomers, who were playing with a Frisbee not far from us.
As the sun bled orange, Mum got up to find Dad. The boys approached instantly. Marcie smiled with her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth. Her jawline had never looked better.
Two of the three clamored to take the towels next to her. The other—amazingly—did not seem drawn to her in quite the same way. He pointed to the space on the towel next to me. “Can I sit there?”
I shrugged but moved aside for him anyway.
“Have you been here for long?” he asked.
I threw a rock toward the sea. “We arrived this morning.”
“I love it down here. We come every summer.” He smiled contentedly, and I noticed he had a nice face. Kind eyes. A lovely smile. The thick black cloud that had been roiling inside me dissipated somewhat. I found myself smiling back.
Marcie glanced in our direction. A tiny line appeared between her brows. Her bottom lip jutted. I ignored her.
“What’s your name?”
“Josh.”
“I’m Iris.” I held out my hand and he took it. It was large and warm. My stomach somersaulted.
It was easy to talk to Josh. He liked surfing and spoke at length about wave height. I found it didn’t matter that I didn’t understand what he was talking about. I liked listening to him. He went to a private school just outside of London. He made me feel normal.
When it was time to leave, he touched me again. Just lightly, on the arm. “Can I get your number? Maybe we’ll see you around later? I think we’re having a bonfire down here.”
It was the first time a boy had ever asked for my number. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcie’s lower lip jut again. I straightened my back and smiled at him with my tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth. “Of course,” I said, and I typed it into his phone.
I couldn’t read Marcie’s expression on the walk back up the hill, and I didn’t bother asking. It was the first time someone had shown interest in me, and right in front of her, and it felt glorious.
She was not herself at dinner, either. She was quiet. Sullen. I found myself taking up the mantle, talking for the first time in weeks.
Mum threw anxious glances across the table at her. “It’s OK,” she said. “Maybe Billy can come with us on the next holiday. Would you like that?” Marcie shrugged.
I was tired by the time we retreated upstairs. Josh texted as we arrived back at our room.Hey, it’s Josh. We’re going down to the beach now if you want to come?
I started to reply, but Marcie caught me looking at my phone. “Did he text?” she asked bluntly. I nodded. “You’re not thinking ofgoing, are you? God, that’s a bit desperate. You shouldn’t make yourself seem too available.” And she turned her back on me. I did want to go. Badly. But her words had sown a seed of doubt.
I backspaced on my acceptance and typedI can’t tonight. But maybe see you tomorrow?
