Another Summer (17 page)

Joe didn’t know what had shocked him the most.  Evie hated people driving her company car, for one thing.  But then kissing the driver?  Who could he be?  It had never occurred to Joe that she’d left him for somebody else.

Last night he’d been wrecked after four hours slog to get the last eighty miles to Exeter services.  But he’d woken feeling more hopeful than he had all week.  Despite the warnings of floods and landslides on the morning news, the A30 seemed a vast improvement on the conditions further north and for the first time in days, he’d made good time.

It was only as he was passing Launceston that it dawned on him he didn’t have a clue where he was going.  He couldn’t even remember the name of the village.  He’d hardly ever been there.  Evie had usually brought Claire on her own.

He bought an old-school map, scanning it in the car as he wolfed down a pasty.  Tintagel.  Boscastle.  Names he recognised.  Porthrynton Heath, a bit further inland.  That rang a bell.  He’d head for there.

He was relieved to recognise the old market town as he drove down the main street.  Then he cringed as he recalled trying to impress Evie into bed by spending all his money on the party dress.  Well, that had worked.  Maybe too well.  But he couldn’t regret having Claire.  Shame he’d been such a prick and screwed things up.  But as soon as he got to Evie, he’d be able to explain.

Needing petrol, he pulled in at the big Tesco and suddenly there she was at the payphone.  Shocked to see her, he couldn’t do anything but stand and watch her, remembering how he’d teased her about keeping back-up numbers in her diary.  He hoped she wasn’t calling Heather.  What if his sister let on about Lisa?  Or about being pregnant?  But Heather wouldn’t do that, would she?  She’d know Evie would be upset.

He struggled to decide what to say to her, tugging up the collar of his denim jacket, useless against the horizontal rain that lashed across the forecourt.  He didn’t own anything more country.  He didn’t actually do country. 

He hadn’t thought Evie did either.  Apart from holidays and the regular visits to her grandmother, she hardly ever ventured outside of the city.  She liked city living.  Smart clothes.  Expensive shoes.  Even in such an extreme downpour, she was wearing the foxy blue trench that he’d always liked.  He’d been impressed by the label.

He’d never understood why she clung onto her grandmother’s cottage when selling up was a much better bet.  Not to mention the money coming in handy.  He hadn’t got why she’d run away down here.  Until that moment he’d seen her kissing someone else and the shock had punched him in the gut.

He didn’t know what else to do but follow them.  Had to keep a long way back as the crap weather had scared off most of the traffic and he didn’t want her to notice  his headlights.  He knew she hated driving in the wet and for a moment he hoped that was the only reason some random guy was driving her car.  

But that was bollocks!  His wife had left him for someone else.  He’d have to face up to the possibility that she may not be intending to come back.  He felt sick.  He had no job.  No money.  Debts she didn’t even know about and a long history of treating her like shit.  Why had he imagined she’d want to come back?

Her car stopped.  The guy got out and onto a kick-ass motorbike.  Joe couldn’t see what he looked like but he recognised the local village and realised now they must be heading for the cottage.  But why the bike?  Hadn’t they seen the severe weather warnings?  This rain was nothing compared to what was about to hit them.  What was going on?

He pulled up round a bend in the lane, so they wouldn’t be able to see him from any of the cottage windows.  He remembered he’d tossed her phone into his bag at the last minute before leaving the house.  He fished it out.  Checked her calls, her messages and emails.  Nothing from an unknown man.  But that meant jack shit.  She’d have deleted anything suspect.  He knew all about that.

It was stifling in the car but if he opened the windows he’d be drenched.  He was so fucking sick of getting wet.  He shrugged off his jacket and drank some water.  He didn’t have a clue what to do next.  So he waited.

The waiting was torture.  How long would it take for Joe to show up at the door?  Hours?  Days?  What if it wasn’t even him?  Evie didn’t even know if she wanted it to be him.

Why had she left him that note, telling him where she was going?  Had she hoped he’d come after her?  Why hadn’t she just lied, or said nothing?  And what would they talk about anyway?  After so many broken promises, she wondered if they had anything left to say.

“Why so edgy?  Come over here and show me how grateful you are for my cooking.”

Didn’t he ever think about anything else?  How could they possibly have sex when Joe could be outside the door at any minute?  Evie’s head was pounding from the wine in the Jamie Oliver special.  And the several glasses she’d knocked back because she was nervous.

The cottage no longer felt cosy.  She was fed up with the unreliable power and the lack of luxuries she took for granted.  She’d never liked roughing it, even for a holiday.  Maybe if she went to Ibiza, she should rent her own place.  Just in case.

Who was she kidding?  Running away wouldn’t solve anything.  She’d have to face Joe at some point and get it over with.  But she wasn’t ready for that yet.  And she wasn’t capable of just sitting there waiting.

“I thought you were taking me out on the bike?”

“I was, but it’s still pissing down out there.”

“You wouldn’t be scared of a little bit of rain?”

Of course Jake wouldn’t refuse a challenge like that and she realised too late she was scared of the very idea.  But it scared her more to sit around waiting.

She swung her leg over the leather seat, weighed down by the heavy jacket he’d made her wear.  She tried to focus on his instructions.  Tried not to feel claustrophobic as he flicked down the visor on her helmet.

They roared off, water splashing up their legs.  It was barely evening but the winding road was pitch dark, hedges arching overhead in black tunnels as the headlights sliced through the rain.

The road was steep and dangerously close to the edge.  The salt in the air was dry on her lips and even above the drone of the engine, she could hear the crash of waves at the bottom of the cliff.  

Jake turned sharply right onto a track that veered through muddy woodland, climbing away from the sea for what seemed like miles.  When he eventually pulled over and cut the engine, she could hear the gush of a fast-flowing river.

“Why are we stopping here?  We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Wait and see.” 

He got off the bike and pulled off his helmet.  She did the same, grateful to shake out her hair despite the rain.  He grabbed a bag from one of the panniers, carrying it in the same hand as his helmet so he could lead her into the woods.

It was barely a track.  She stumbled in the thick darkness, tripping on some brambles.  When she clutched at his hand, terrified, he pulled her in and kissed her.  His lips tasted of rain.

“Relax.”  He was almost laughing.  “You townies, always afraid of the dark.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“You’re going to enjoy it, I promise.  Just go with the flow.”

Not far from the road but hidden by dense growth, there was a stone cabin, almost a ruin, squatting on the edge of the riverbank.  She shuddered, clung harder to his hand as the sky was slashed by lightning.

“Tell me we’re not going inside that spooky place.”

“Spooky’s the point.  Come on.”

He shoved the door open and they stepped into a single damp room, rain pitting like nails on the old tin roof.  The rusty old grate was full of cobwebs.  And the skeleton of a long dead bird.  Evie shuddered and looked away.

“Used to be a woodcutter’s cabin, back in the day.  Great place for parties.  No nosy neighbours getting on your back.”

“But who does it belong to?  Aren’t we trespassing?”

“The farmer never minded, so long as we didn’t burn the place down and we let him cop an eyeful of the action through the window.”

“Action?  Tell me you’re not considering having sex in this musty old cabin?  The place looks ready to slide down the riverbank.”

“If it does, you can tell your daughter you once made the earth move.”

He laughed and brushed his finger across her cheek, his touch as light as an icy breath.  She closed her eyes, expecting him to kiss her, already wondering why she wasn’t insisting that they leave.

But he’d stashed the helmets on the rickety old table and was unpacking the bag he’d brought.  Candles, matches, a tobacco tin.  A six-pack of lager.

“When did you put all this stuff together?”

“When you were fussing with your hair.  Can you grab those old jars for the candles?”

The roof was dripping into puddles in places but one side of the floor seemed to be quite dry.  They took off their jackets and Jake spread them out by the wall.  He lit the candles and opened two bottles on the edge of the table.  Her mouth was suddenly very dry.

He pulled off his black T-shirt and used it to dry his hair.  Then hers.  It smelled of wet leather.  And danger.  He looped it round her neck and drew her in for a kiss then tossed it onto the table.

She watched him light a joint from the tin and throw back his head to take in the smoke.  He sat down on the jackets, knees apart against the wall.  Her knees had started to feel wobbly as she looked at him, half naked in the flickering shadows.

“Not thinking about running away?”  He was undoing his belt, tugging at his zip.

“Just thinking about closing the door.”

But he hooked a foot behind her ankle and jerked her towards him, pulling her down so he could kiss her.  His hands roamed over her.  She knew she’d missed the moment for resisting.

The air became thick with the sweet scent of dope as he watched her straighten up to strip off her clothes.  He picked up the bottle and traced the inside of her thigh, the cool glass making her shiver.  His hand was cold as he circled her heat with his fingers.

“I’m loving how wet I can get you.”

He eased her thighs towards him.  His mouth was hot and greedy as she leaned over him, steadying herself on the wall.  He kicked off his jeans and pulled her down, spreading her thighs to push inside her.

“I meant it when I said I could love you.”

“How much could you love me?”

“This much?” he grunted, thrusting harder.  “Or maybe even this?”

She gasped as his kiss blew dope into her mouth.  She swallowed, felt the rush, felt the tingle in her blood as she knelt astride him.  She grabbed her beer, poured it into his mouth, licking it from his face.  She splashed her breasts, leaning over to make him drink as she rode him, ever harder as the storm raged about them.

The air was heady with the scent of sex.  She felt reckless.  Intense.  Heard herself pleading for more.  Harder.  Oh, yes!

By the time it was over, the wind had died to a whisper but the rain still fell in sheets, stotting off the roof and dripping around them onto the ancient flags.  Evie felt dazed and tender.  She arched her back, tingling all over as she stretched.

Jake had fallen asleep, still inside her.  She leaned over and kissed his cheek, gently so she didn’t wake him just yet.  If that was goodbye sex, she wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “For more than you know.”

The door was still open.  A sound like a growl.  Startled, she glanced over her shoulder.

“How very touching!”

It was Joe.

“You might want to get dressed.  If you’re actually finished?”

Evie flinched, turning away from the anger in Joe’s eyes.  He had no right to be angry, not after everything he’d done.  But hot tears still scalded her throat.

She was still straddling Jake.  She squirmed in shame as he slid out of her.  He didn’t even stir.  The smell of dope clung to the air, sweet and heavy.  She felt woozy.  Couldn’t think.  Why was Joe standing there, making it worse?

When at last he stormed out, she jumped up, nudging Jake with her foot as she threw his clothes into a heap beside him.

“My husband’s here,” she hissed.

He yawned and stretched, naked against the wall with his legs spread wide.  “Did he catch the show?”

She dashed the tears from her cheeks.  “It’s not funny.  We have to get dressed and get out of here.”

Outside in the rain, Joe’s face was a mask of fury.  “You make me puke, the pair of you.”

“Yeah?  Speaks the pervert who watched it.”

The punch came from nowhere.  Jake sprawled in the mud.  Joe loomed over him, rubbing his fist, ready to hit out again.

“Stop it!  What are you doing?”

“You keep out of it.  He’s getting what he deserves.”

“You’ve no right!”

Evie clutched at Joe’s arm but he shoved her aside to grab Jake by the collar and haul him to his feet.  His fist smashed into Jake’s face.  Jake staggered but stayed on his feet.  He swiped the blood from his mouth.

“Feeling better now?” he smirked, grabbing Evie’s hand.  “Come on.  Time we left.”

“That’s right.  Run away.  Go with him.  You deserve each other.”

Evie felt breathless with shock and anger.  She’d never seen Joe like that.  Jake dragged her away.  She dropped the leather jacket but it seemed easier to leave it.

They stumbled and slid their way back through the brambles.  In her flimsy T-shirt, she was scratched and drenched in moments.  There was a car parked behind the bike, blocking the way.

“Fucking awkward bastard,” Jake muttered.  “We’ll have to go up the track through the woods.  Should lead to a road somewhere.”

“But we’ve left the helmets?”

“I’m not going back to get my face smashed in.”

He was already starting the bike.  What else could she do but get on?  She clung to Jake as he roared away, her nausea made worse by the pungent smell of wet leather on his back.

“Slow down!” she begged.

“No way!  This bike can fly!”

He was drunk, she realised.  And high on dope and competition.  She hung on, terrified, as they splashed uphill then round a bend to drop steeply through mud to the river.  Jake cursed and yanked the bike to a stop.  She almost fell off as a vicious shard of lightning flashed across their path.

“What’s the matter?”

But she could see it now for herself.  The tumbledown bridge, the murky river so high it boiled over the rotting timbers.  Black water gushed up the track, almost at their feet.

“Jake, we can’t.  There must be another way.”

“Yeah, back there and fucking castration.”

He revved the bike.  She tried to get off but he shot away.  She clutched his jacket, his laughter scaring her more than the bridge.

“Stop!  Jake, it’s not a game.  It’s too dangerous.”

But the bike ripped forward onto the bridge.  The rotten wood splintered.  The bike tipped, lodged in a gash.  Evie was thrown in the mud.  She slid, stunned and winded.  Heard the crack, the shudder and reverberating groan as the bridge collapsed like kindling into the seething river.

She hit the water.  Breath smacked out of her.  Nothing to grab.  Her mouth flooded with treacle, drowning her screams.