Summer of '76 (6 page)

‘What?’ Mum replies vacantly, placing a loaf of sliced white bread into the basket.

Luke tuts and turns away, peering around the aisle, towards the sweet shelves. ‘Where’s Kitty gone?’

At that moment, Kitty yells from the front of the shop.

‘Lu-uke!’ She’s at the till, teetering on tiptoes as she unloads an armful of sweets and chocolate bars on to the counter. Teddy raises his eyebrows as Mum and Luke join her at the till. ‘Lu-lu’s paying.’ Kitty tells him.

‘Lu-lu?’ Teddy smiles at Luke.

Mum takes the basket from Luke so he can search his pockets for change.

‘OK, Kitty. There – I’ve got 25p. You can have the Toffos and the buttons, and make the rest up in Black Jacks or something. But the other stuff has to go back.’

Kitty snarls and bites his wrist.

‘She’s a bright spark,’ says Teddy.

‘Kitty!’ Mum gasps, as if she’s never seen her do anything so awful before. She shakes her head in embarrassment. ‘Sorry, Teddy. She’s been pretending to be a dog this week.’

‘You
said
!’ Kitty whines, narrowing her eyes at Luke.

‘I said I’d get you
some
sweets,’ Luke replies, rubbing his wrist. He reaches out to ruffle her hair and she ducks away to stand by the entrance with her arms folded crossly over her chest. Luke gives her his stern face. ‘I didn’t say I’d buy you the whole shop.’

Choking his rough smoker’s cough, Teddy tries to conceal his amusement behind a hand. ‘And what about this lot, Jo, love?’ He bags up Mum’s shopping. ‘Shall I put it on tick?’

Outside, the cloudy sky is clearing, and they stroll home at a leisurely pace, sharing a bag of peanuts as they walk back along Grasslands Avenue, where the leaves shimmer with fresh moisture. Kitty is content now, her teeth glued together with a toffee. Just as they reach the junction to Blake Avenue, the chihuahuas run out from the purple gate, yipping and snarling at their feet. Kitty shrieks, holding her sweets high above her head.

‘Grrrr!’ Luke snarls back, stamping his foot towards them. ‘Bugger off, you little rats!’

Mum tugs the hem of his T-shirt. ‘Luke!
Stop it
. She’ll hear you.’

She speeds up to remove herself from the vicinity, as the dogs carry on snapping from a distance, too nervous to continue any further.

‘Who cares?’ he says, jogging to fall into step with her and glancing back again to glower at the dogs. ‘Those dogs are a bloody menace!’ He throws a peanut in the air, pausing briefly to let it plop into his mouth before catching up with her again. ‘God, Mum. You should chill out a bit, man.’

The chihuahuas give up and trot away, disappearing through the gate as the clouds above their bungalow split and separate, allowing the sunshine to pour through, warm and bright.

‘Urgh, those little baldies gives me the willies,’ Mum says once they’re out of earshot.

‘
Rats
,’ says Kitty.

‘I can understand having one or two dogs,’ says Luke. ‘But six? Apparently she’s obsessed with them, carries photos of them around in her purse, like they’re her children. Dad told me she’s thinking of setting up a dog portrait studio in her home – taking soft-focus pictures for adoring dog owners.’ He laughs, his face freezing mid-smile as he looks up to see Samantha Dyas cycling towards them from the other direction, slowing down as she bumps over the uneven pavement towards Grasslands Avenue.

‘Hi, Luke!’ she calls over her shoulder as she passes, stopping on the pavement a few feet away, tilting on to one tanned leg. ‘I hear you’re going to be starting work over at Sunshine Bay tomorrow,’ she says. The new sunlight sparkles behind her long fair hair, which drapes prettily around the shoulders of her orange cagoule. When Luke doesn’t reply, she twitches her little nose as if amused. ‘Philip Beckett told me – one of the managers, you know?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Luke replies, tugging at his earlobe and hoping Samantha hasn’t noticed the flush of his cheeks.

‘I’m working there too,’ she says brightly, hooking back the pedal with her toe and pushing off. ‘So I’ll see you up
there!’ She tinkles her bell and disappears behind the hedge at the corner of their street.

Luke tries to subdue his delight, and avoids eye contact with his mum as they carry on along the path, knowing she’s desperate to ask about Samantha. After a moment, she rubs his back. ‘Now,
she’s
rather nice, isn’t she? What’s her name?’

‘
Mum
. That’s just Samantha. She’s in the year below me at school.’

‘
Just
Samantha?’

‘Yes.
Just
Samantha. You know, the vicar’s daughter.’ He purposely bumps her leg with the shopping bag and she laughs, dodging out of the way. ‘Anyway, she’s going out with Len, so I doubt very much that she’d be interested in me.’

‘Len Dickens?’

‘Len
Dickhead
. God know what she sees in him.’

‘Pity.’ She sighs, scooping up her hair and letting it drop over one shoulder. ‘I would’ve thought you’d make someone a rather nice boyfriend.’

‘Oi! Don’t write me off just yet. I’m not even out of my teens.’

‘No, you’re right. I guess you’re still my little boy, aren’t you?’ She puts her arm through his and pulls him close. ‘You’ll be flying the nest soon, though, won’t you?’ she says with sadness in her voice.

‘It’s what we’re meant to do, Mum.’

‘Oh, I know,’ she replies, raising an arm to wave at Dad as he turns the car into their driveway at the far end of the street. ‘Just don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up, love, that’s all. Being a grown-up… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

Within twenty-four hours the sun has returned, the moisture from the brief rainfall now sucked from the dry earth as if it never came at all. Luke potters about in the garden with Kitty, killing time before he sets off for his first shift at Sunshine Bay, and avoiding the kitchen, where Mum and Dad are
having another argument. This time Dad came home towing a second-hand trailer tent he’d bought from the school caretaker and Mum went mad, telling him she’d rather die than sleep in that mouldy old thing. Why can’t they holiday in Italy or France, like other families? she wants to know. A nice little
gîte
in the Dordogne; a hotel in Florence? They’ve been fighting over it ever since.

Kitty is busy collecting up daisy heads, to decorate the garden of her cardboard insect house. Luke has helped her to separate the box into rooms so that the woodlice and beetles have got two bedrooms, a bathroom and a living room to move about in, and the house now sits in the centre of the garden table, soaking up the afternoon heat. He peers into the box and spots a shrivelling earthworm that Kitty has installed in a sunny corner, whipping it out and throwing it back into the flowerbed before she notices.

‘Do you think we should give them some water, Kitty?’

She nods and starts dotting the flower heads around the perimeter of the house. Luke fills an empty margarine tub at the wall tap. ‘It can be their bath,’ says Kitty, showing him where to put it. She scoops up a couple of woodlice and drops them into the water, poking them under with her finger.

‘No, Kitty!’ Luke grabs the tub and flicks the water and woodlice out over the cracked concrete patio. They immediately head for the nearest dark crevice, disappearing like miniature tanks, headfirst into the abyss.

Kitty balls up her fists and starts to scream. Luke picks her up under his armpit, and swings her round and round until she stops screaming and starts to chortle instead. When he’s sure she’s completely over it he puts her on to her feet in the middle of the lawn, where she sways momentarily and topples on to her face. This time her crying is for real, and there’s blood where her front tooth has caught the edge of her lip. ‘
Shit
,’ he mutters, rushing to check her over. ‘
Shh-shh-shh-
shh,’ he soothes, and he picks her up to whisk her into the kitchen through the open back door.

Mum and Dad are still in there; Mum’s angrily pushing a mop around the floor and Dad is propped up against the stove, his arms folded defiantly. He frowns at Luke as he places Kitty on the kitchen table.

On seeing her mummy, Kitty holds her arms out, feebly wiggling her little fingers.

‘Oh, Kitty! What happened?’

Kitty’s really bawling now, dribbling snot bubbles down Mum’s bare arm. ‘Lu-lu-u-u-u!’ she wails, bouncing a wretched finger towards him.

Mum turns to look at Luke, who’s anxiously pinching his chin at the sight of Kitty’s bloody lip. ‘Luke?’

He drops his hand. ‘What? She fell over!’

‘Noooooo!’ Kitty shakes her head, spreading the snot further. She pulls her head back and glares at him fiercely. ‘He
made
me!’

Luke laughs, and looks to his dad for support. ‘That’s not true. She fell over. She was being silly, doing that twirling round thing she does. God,
Kitty
!’

Kitty throws her head back and howls, and Luke stares at her in disbelief. ‘Sod this,’ he says, snatching up his crash helmet and stomping from the room. ‘I’m off to work.’

‘Luke!’ Mum calls after him. ‘Tell Kitty you’re sorry!’

He pauses on the front door step and looks out across the sun-soaked driveway, at the dazzling shimmer of light as it bounces off the chrome of his freshly polished scooter. He thinks about Samantha in her little white shorts, feels the thrill of anticipation bubbling through his veins, and smiles. ‘
Sorry
, Kitty,’ he calls back along the hall, and he jogs across the front drive and sets off.

When he arrives at Sunshine Bay, Luke has to report to the manager’s office, which sits at the entrance to the holiday camp. ‘Beware Wet Paint’ boards lean up against the steps to the front door, highlighting the freshly painted woodwork and jaunty new sign. The door is ajar, and the tinny sounds
of the wireless radio float out of the open windows, through which Luke can see Philip Beckett sitting behind the desk, drinking Coca-Cola and concentrating on the large chart in front of him. Luke runs a quick hand across his fringe, before ascending the steps and poking his head through the door.

‘Luke Wolff!’ Philip grins, standing to offer his hand. ‘Welcome, welcome.’ He’s only a little older than Luke, but already his hair is deeply receding, the peaks of exposed forehead adding years to his appearance. He jangles the keys that hang from his belt loop. ‘All set to meet the rest of the gang?’

Luke nods, pushing his hands into his shorts pockets, and he follows Philip as he locks up the office and leads the way to Housekeeping, where he will pick up his kit and meet his new workmates. All along the way they pass various camp workers: gardeners, chefs, maintenance men and cleaners. A group of Suncoats, three girls and a young man with thick black sideburns, sit on the benches outside the ballroom in their bright orange jackets, smoking cigarettes and chatting. The man salutes Philip as they pass and he returns the gesture, winking at one of the young women with a cluck of his tongue. ‘Piss off, Beckett,’ she laughs, tossing her head back as he returns a showy leer. Her hair falls around her face in luscious dark curls, and her lips are painted pillarbox red. They all look like air hostesses.

‘I love it when they’re like that,’ Philip confides as they round the corner to meet the rest of the temporary staff waiting beneath the Housekeeping sign.

Luke joins the other new starters, slipping in to stand beside Samantha as Philip counts them up and refers to his clipboard to delegate their tasks.

‘Hi,’ she whispers, flashing a smile and giving him a nudge. ‘Do you know anyone else here?’

He shakes his head. Samantha waves at Philip and points to Luke, indicating that she wants to pair up with him. Philip nods and makes a mark on his chart.

‘Right! Most of you already know me – if not, I’m Philip. Suzy is the other duty manager, who you’ll see tomorrow, so, if you’ve got any problems or questions while you’re here, come and find one of us over in the managers’ office. We don’t bite – honest! Now, you’re in teams of three per chalet: one on beds, one on bathrooms, one on brushing, dusting and windows. Once I’ve called your teams, head inside and see Brenda and the gang, and they’ll take you to your first chalet and show you the ropes. OK? So, Team One – Samantha Dyas, Gordon Lurie and Luke Wolff. Off you go.’

Luke, Samantha and a puny-looking lad called Gordon head inside, and, as soon as Brenda has escorted them to their first room and explained the job, Samantha takes charge. She drops back on to one of the single beds and bounces gleefully, kicking her legs about like a schoolgirl. ‘Introductions!’ she says. ‘If we’re going to work together, we should know a little bit about each other.’

Luke inwardly cringes, furtively eyeing Gordon, with his pale skin, National Health glasses and baby-soft hair. He looks like a complete pleb.

‘Oh, I’ll go first,’ Samantha says, smoothing her hands over her tanned thighs. ‘I’m Samantha Dyas. Sam. I’m seventeen years old, I live on the outskirts of Sandown, and my father’s a vicar. Yes, a vicar! I’m into T-Rex and Dr Hook and Janis Joplin.’ She bobs her head towards the boys, inviting them to share too.

Gordon rubs his chin, looking like a wizened old professor. ‘Eclectic music choices, young Samantha. I approve.’

Samantha laughs, her eyes wide.

‘Well, I’m Gordon Lurie, I’m nineteen and I’ve just finished my first year at Brighton Polytechnic. I’m staying with my dear old mum in Newport, who incidentally cooks the best moussaka in the northern hemisphere, and what I don’t know about music – pop in particular – isn’t worth knowing.’ He smiles complacently and turns to Luke.

Luke rakes his fingers through his hair, wondering where to start. ‘Well, you know I’m Luke – I’m nearly eighteen –’

‘Ah,
nearly
,’ Gordon croons, amiably leaning in to bump shoulders.

Luke frowns. ‘Alright, I’m seventeen, I live in Sandown, and I’ve just done my A-levels – well, I’ve got my last two still to do. I like Bowie, Velvet Underground, T-Rex –’ He looks at Samantha for her approval. ‘Oh, and I’m off to Brighton Poly in September too. That’s if I get the grades.’

‘Well, fancy that!’ Gordon says. ‘Perhaps we’ll be
neighbours
.’