Tigers on the Beach (13 page)

The usually vacant park at Carlington is full of tents and trestle tables displaying food, arts and crafts. It's the Carlington Prehistoric Festival, which has been going for ten years and I've been lucky enough to avoid every single one till now. Carlington people
like
dinosaurs. They make artwork with a prehistoric theme. There are miniature dinosaurs made from wire, wood, shells and seed pods. People have knitted jumpers with dinosaurs on them. There are cakes with little dinosaurs on top. Kids have their faces painted green, which actually looks better than fake-tan orange.

All of the hedges have been especially trimmed for the occasion, so that for this weekend at least they do actually resemble dinosaurs. A man in a dinosaur suit is wandering around the park, pretending to be scary. It isn't working. Kids keep coming up behind him and jumping on his tail. When one of the kids kicks him in the leg really hard, the guy pulls his dinosaur head off and yells angrily at the kid, who starts to cry. A mother comes up to claim the kid. She's angry with the dinosaur man. How
dare
he yell at her darling boy. He was only playing. If you go around dressed as a dinosaur you have to expect kids to kick you. I can see that the dinosaur man wants to kick the mother, and I'm disappointed that he doesn't.

A stallholder is selling T-shirts with pictures of dinosaurs and a slogan:
I've visited The Carlington Dinosaur Park.
It doesn't seem the sort of thing I'd boast about. Other visitors must feel the same way. The shirts have been reduced to half price. Maybe they'd sell better if they said,
I have absolutely no intention of visiting The Carlington Dinosaur Park now that I've actually seen it.

I hear music playing from the side of the park that borders the sea. I walk around the hedges and the various craft stalls. The five members of
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
are seated on a makeshift stage with a cyclorama representing a prehistoric landscape. I notice that Felix and Oscar have been kept apart, and sit at either end of the group, but they keep giving each other meaningful looks. Sam sits at the centre, and everyone in the audience must be thinking the same thing. Who is this stunningly beautiful flautist in the emerald tights, and why is she playing the theme music from
Doctor Who
?

I watch. After the
Doctor Who
theme, they play ‘Turkey in the Straw'. There is no dancing, however. I guess you have to be in a nursing home for that to happen. By now, the man in the dinosaur costume without a head has also lost his tail. I don't know if kids have torn it off or if he decided to shed it himself. He looks as though he can't wait for the ice age to come.

There is an announcement that
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
will be taking a break, and will return in fifteen minutes.

‘Hi.'

I call to Sam. She comes over and I get the chance to kiss her on the embouchure again.

‘Say cheese,' I tell her, taking out my phone.

‘Stilton,' says Sam.

I take a picture, but the sun is in Sam's eyes and she is squinting.

‘Say cheese again,' I say.

‘Gruyere,' says Sam.

This time it's a perfect snap. Sam takes the phone and aims it at me.

‘Your turn.'

‘Mozzarella,' I say.

Sam laughs and takes the picture. I have never felt better. We are teens in love. We will buy each other jewellery. Songs on the radio will constantly make us think of each other, provided they aren't rap songs that use the word ‘bitch'. We will upgrade our relationship status on Facebook.

‘Can you take our picture too?'

It's Ben Beacham, with Michaela Debeljak in tow. They are both wearing the half-price shirts advertising The Carlington Dinosaur Park. Michaela cannot stop laughing about the fact that she and Ben are wearing the same tops. I have never seen anyone get so much joy out of identical shirts. It is blindingly obvious that Michaela is not wearing a bra. Sam takes their picture.

‘You were good,' Ben says to Sam. ‘Especially the
Doctor Who
music. That was fantastic. You should play more music like that. Do you know the music from
The Simpsons
?' He hums it in case we haven't heard it, even though everyone has.

‘You sound a bit drunk,' I say.

‘I drank green beer,' says Ben. ‘Have you ever had green beer before?'

‘No,' I say. ‘And I don't think I ever will.'

‘They're selling it over by the brontosaurus.'

‘Apatosaurus,' says Sam.

‘What?'

‘It's not a brontosaurus. It's an apatosaurus.'

‘Oh, right. Apatosaurus. Are you sure?'

‘Positive.'

Ben isn't going to argue. He had enough trouble pronouncing ‘brontosaurus' without also attempting ‘apatosaurus'.

‘Go on, Adam,' he says. ‘Get some green beer before they run out.'

‘I don't want green beer. Anyway, I don't think they'll serve me. I'm underage.'

‘They served
me
.'

‘You look older than I do.'

‘Then I'll get it for you.'

‘No, I'm fine.'

Michaela has found something to say. ‘Where are the toilets?'

Ben points. ‘Next to the . . . um . . .'

‘Triceratops,' says Sam. ‘They gave me a guide.'

Sam takes a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. Sure enough, twelve different dinosaurs are listed, though the hedges don't bear much resemblance to them. And Sam is correct. According to her guide, the toilets are next to the triceratops.

Michaela runs off, holding onto her big boobs as if they might somehow get away from her.

‘Is Michaela all right?' I ask.

‘She drank too much green beer,' says Ben. ‘Sam, are you sure you don't want any?'

‘No thanks,' says Sam.

Ben is even more talkative than usual. I hope he doesn't talk about seeing Michaela naked.

‘I wonder why they started clipping the hedges to look like dinosaurs,' says Ben. ‘Does anyone know?'

‘Someone must have thought it was a good idea,' I say.

Ben ponders this for a moment.

‘Ben, maybe you should see if Michaela is okay?' I suggest.

‘Oh, she'll be fine.'

‘How do you know?'

‘She's found the toilets. She'll probably just be sick.' Sam is annoyed but doesn't say anything.

‘Ben, if Michaela is sick then she isn't fine, is she?'

‘You worry too much, Adam.'

‘You're supposed to be her boyfriend,' I say.

Ben looks guilty. ‘Yeah. You're right. I should go and see if she needs a drink of water or something.'

He heads off in the direction of the triceratops.

Sam gives me a long and wonderful kiss. She holds my hand tightly.

‘You're thoughtful,' she says.

‘Am I?'

‘Worrying about Michaela like that.'

I try to be modest. ‘It's nothing.'

‘And I really like the way you danced with the old lady at Park Lake. Most guys wouldn't.'

‘She was a very persuasive old lady. She wants to be called Flipper. I probably wouldn't have done it if she hadn't made me.'

‘I like that about you too. You're modest.'

‘Not really.'

‘And you're supportive. And I am in love with you, Adam Cartwright.'

‘And I am in love with you, Sam Koenigsberger. I hope we stay together forever.'

‘We probably will,' she says.

‘And when people ask us how we met, we'll tell them about the queue at a pharmacy. Isn't that romantic?'

We kiss again as we stand alongside a hedge shaped like a velociraptor. I smell cherry lip-balm and swoon.

‘Are your parents here?' I ask.

‘No.'

‘How come?'

‘They wanted to be, but they had to go to town to see my brother.'

‘The molecule man,' I say.

‘Yes. Only he wants to drop out of university because he doesn't want to be a molecular biologist anymore. Mum and Dad are trying to convince him that he does.'

‘Did your parents make you take up the flute?'

‘No, I wanted to do that.'

‘You're really good at it.'

‘I have to go now,' says Sam. ‘It's our second set.'

‘I'll stay right here alongside the velociraptor,' I say.

‘When I'm finished we'll go for a swim,' says Sam.

‘That would be perfect,' I say.

Sam gives me one more quick kiss then heads to the stage to join the other four members of
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
. The musicians start to play.

‘Michaela's okay,' says Ben, as he and Michaela rejoin me. Ben is carrying two big plastic cups of green beer.

‘Ben was worried about me,' says Michaela. ‘Isn't that nice?'

‘Very nice,' I say.

‘I wasn't sick because of the beer,' she says. ‘It was the food colouring. I'm allergic to green food colouring.'

Even the image of Michaela vomiting green can't disturb how wonderful I feel.

Ben drinks from one of the cups. ‘They should play
Doctor Who
again,' he says.

‘Maybe they'll do it for an encore,' I say.

‘Classical music is stupid,' says Michaela. Ben agrees. This brings them closer together, a shared hatred.

The woodwind ensemble starts to play ‘Air on the G String' by J. S. Bach.

‘This is better,' says Michaela.

‘I like it too,' says Ben.

‘It's serious,' says Michaela.

‘But in a good way,' says Ben. He drinks more of his beer, then he holds out the second cup to me. ‘I got this for you, Adam. You gave us all those biscuits at the movies. I owe you.'

‘Thanks, but I'm fine.'

‘Just take it,' Ben tells me.

I drink a little then give the rest to the guy with the dinosaur costume hanging off him. He looks deeply grateful, as though a cup of green beer is exactly what he needs.

What happens next is hard to describe, but it's very important so I'll try. The stage on which Sam and her friends are performing is small. It's certainly too small for five musicians.
Il Gattopardo Pazzo
are halfway through the magnificent ‘Air on the G String' when, unexpectedly, Sam disappears. It happens so quickly that Felix and Oscar keep playing for a few seconds, unaware that the sound of the flute has mysteriously stopped. I think what happened was that Sam's chair was moving backwards. It was such a small movement, maybe only a millimetre per minute, that no one noticed. But these millimetres all added up, and suddenly Sam's chair went off the back of the stage. And because Sam was sitting on the chair, she went with it, onto the grass that leads to the beach. The pre-historic cyclorama falls down. It's a terrible thing to happen. There are gasps from the audience. A stupid little kid laughs. (He's probably the dinosaur tormenter.) Another kid joins him. Then some adults laugh. I'm stunned. How can they laugh? Sam might be hurt. This isn't funny.

Rico the leader helps up Sam and she looks fine, just a little embarrassed. So why have I started . . . 
laughing?
Sam sees me and I immediately stifle my mouth with my handkerchief.

Sam comes over to me as soon as she has finished playing. She doesn't look happy.

‘Adam, you were laughing.'

There's no point in denying it. ‘I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But a lot of people were laughing. Ben and Michaela were laughing.'

But Ben and Michaela have gone.

‘How could you laugh?' says Sam. ‘Do you think I'd laugh if I saw
you
fall off a stage?'

‘I guess you wouldn't.'

‘I'd be concerned.'

‘Well, I
was
concerned about you.'

‘You were
laughing.'

‘Only when I knew you were all right. It was relieved laughter. People laugh for different reasons, not just because they think something is funny.'

‘
I can't believe I said those positive things about you. You're not supportive.'

‘I am. I really am.'

‘But you weren't.'

‘Sorry. I don't know what came over me.'

Sam shakes her head. I attempt a defence.

‘I think it's because . . . I'm a bit emotional . . . seeing as how we're officially together and in love and everything.'

‘Are you drunk?'

‘I'm not drunk.'

‘You smell like beer.'

‘I had one mouthful.'

‘Why didn't you come to help me?'

‘I
would
have helped you,' I say. ‘But the other guy got there first.'

‘Rico. He has a name.'

‘Yes, Rico got there first.'

‘He wasn't laughing.'

‘But he didn't see you go over.'

‘Even if he did, he wouldn't have laughed.'

‘He might have.'

‘He's a friend.'