Secrets of the Tides (18 page)

Cassie shrugged. ‘We didn’t force you to come with us, Dora.’

‘I didn’t exactly have a choice, did I? Mum said we had to stick together.’

‘Who says we have to do what Mum says all the time? You’re a big girl, Dora,’ Cassie taunted. ‘Can’t you make up your own mind?’

‘But there’s Alfie too . . . It’s not fair . . .’ She saw Cassie turn to Sam with a roll of her eyes. ‘Oh, forget it,’ she tailed off.

Sam retrieved a packet of Marlboro Lights from her shirt pocket and pulled out a fat, misshapen roll-up from within. She lit it with a shiny Zippo, took a couple of quick puffs and then passed it to Cassie. Dora watched her sister take a long drag, before exhaling smoke upwards in a slow, steady stream. She looked like she’d done it a million times before. The smoke hung in the dank air like a shimmer of fine cobweb between them.

‘Don’t look so shocked, Dora,’ Cassie said.

‘I’m not,’ she lied.

‘You are. You’re doing that thing you do with your eyebrows.’

‘But . . . what if Alfie tells?’ She looked around to where her brother was scampering happily across the sandy floor. He had found a long stick and was energetically whacking the rocky sides of the cave with loud thuds.

‘Take that. And that,’ he shouted at his invisible enemies.

Cassie shrugged. ‘So? What are they going to do?’

Dora could think of lots of things her parents could do to punish Cassie, but she didn’t bother to list them. Her sister obviously didn’t care.

‘Want a drag?’ Sam asked, offering her the spliff.

‘No!’ Dora said, a little too quickly. ‘Er, no thank you,’ she repeated. ‘I don’t smoke.’ It came out sounding very prim. Dora blushed.

Sam just shrugged and pocketed the lighter. She lay back on the sandy floor of the cave and Cassie sank back too, resting her head in her hands and closing her eyes. Now they were all here, Dora was uncertain what to do. She looked around for Alfie. He was standing on a stony ledge peering down into a rock pool, poking at something with the end of his stick.

‘Careful, Alfie! Those rocks are slippery.’ He ignored her. Great. Neither Cassie nor Alfie seemed to want her around. She looked back at her sister. She was whispering something to Sam that made the other girl let out a deep, throaty laugh.

She turned back to Alfie, the lesser of two evils. ‘What have you got there, Alfie?’ she called out.

‘A crab.’

‘Let me see.’ She wandered over, grateful for distraction, and crouched down at the edge of the pool to get a better look. It was a tiny grey thing, almost translucent and disappointing in size. Alfie was tormenting it, using both hands to wield his stick.

‘Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap,’ he repeated, over and over. ‘Snap, snap, snap.’

‘Your cloak is trailing in the water, Alfie,’ she warned. There was a dark red stain creeping up from the base of the material, leaving it soggy and caked in sand. Alfie didn’t seem to care. He surveyed the damage with a nonchalant shrug and turned back to the pool.

‘Snap, snap, snap.’

They stayed together like that for a while, Alfie digging and poking in the rock pool and Dora looking on, pointing out whelks and periwinkles and a crusty old anemone glued to the rock like concrete. When Alfie got bored with the pool they explored the inner recesses of the stone walls. Without discussion, they began to collect snarls of driftwood, dragging them into a huge pile at the far end of the cavern. Neither of them questioned what they were doing or why they were doing it. They were united in their work and set about it with a quiet dedication, building their wooden pyre until it stood almost a metre high. It seemed that once away from the beach, in the cool, quiet interior of the Crag, it was easy to forget there was a beach just a few hundred metres away littered with blankets and bodies, all sweltering in the sunshine; it was easy to forget about the thirty degree heat baking off the pebbles; it was easy to forget about a new school term just around the corner, and easy to forget all about the time and tides outside their private, enclosed world.

Dora lifted her head with a start.

‘What’s the time, Cass?’ she called out.

Her sister’s blond head raised an inch off the ground to look at her watch.

‘Twelve fifty,’ she replied, sinking her head down again. Another puff of smoke rose up languidly above her head.

‘How long have we got before the tide turns?’

‘Oh ages yet. Calm down, will you?’ Cassie scolded.

Dora remembered the ten pound note in her pocket that Helen had handed her that morning. As if in unison with her brain, her tummy rumbled loudly. Alfie giggled.

‘I’m hungry. Are you hungry, Alfie?’ she asked.

‘Yeah!’ he cried enthusiastically. ‘Ice cream!’

She sighed. It would take ages to walk back to the car park with Alfie toddling along beside her.

‘Cass?’ she called out.

‘What?’

‘We’re hungry. I’m going to get ice cream. Do you want one?’

There was a muttering from the far corner as Sam and Cassie discussed the offer.

‘Nah.’

‘Get us a couple of cans of Coke though, would you?’ Sam asked.

‘OK. Won’t be long. You’ve got Alfie, OK?’

Cassie mumbled something at the far end of the cavern.

‘OK?’ Dora repeated.

‘OK,’ Cassie shouted huffily.

Dora turned to Alfie. ‘You stay here with Cassie and Sam. I’ll be quicker on my own. I’ll bring you back a ninety-nine.’

‘Ohhh . . .’ began Alfie in a whine.

‘I’ll be twenty minutes, tops. I promise.’ She saw Alfie look up at her uncertainly. ‘Anyway,’ she tried, ‘who’s going to build the driftwood tower if we both go? See how big you can get it before I get back, OK?’ She glanced at her sister. It was so unfair of her to just ignore them both. ‘Or maybe you could go and play with Cassie and Sam,’ she added spitefully.

‘OK,’ agreed Alfie. ‘Two flakes?’ he asked hopefully.

‘Sure,’ agreed Dora. ‘I’ll get you two flakes. See you in a bit.’

‘Bye, Cassie,’ Dora yelled out again, making sure her sister knew she was going.

There was a giggle from the far end of the cavern.

‘Bye-bye-ye-ye,’ echoed back at her off the walls.

Dora shook her head with frustration. She was such a mug. How come she was the one that ended up babysitting Alfie all morning? And the one that now had to trudge back across the beach to get ice cream? It was so unfair. She looked back one final time. Alfie was plodding slowly towards Cassie and Sam, dragging a twisted branch of driftwood behind him. His boots scuffed noisily through the silt and his little shoulders were hunched with resignation. Dora felt guilty, but she was pleased to be leaving the stinking cave. She craved the sunlight and the fresh air.

Getting out of the Crag proved to be much easier than getting in. The rocky walls were less steep on the inside and someone had chipped helpful footholds into the stone, so that Dora was able to pull herself up without trouble and hop down onto the hot pebbles on the other side. She was out within seconds and her feet landed with a crunch. She dusted off her hands and allowed her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the brightness. The white-hot shimmer of beach was a shock after the cool interior of the Crag.

As her eyes refocused she realised there were two adults, only thirty or so metres from the entrance to the cave; two women, laying out towels in the thin shadows close to the face of the cliff. They were the only other people for a long way, everyone else choosing to stay up the other end, preferring the proximity of the car park, the ice cream van and each other. Sensible, thought Dora. She glanced again at the women as she walked past. One was now lying face down on her towel, but the other was standing and seemed to be watching her with interest. Dora could see long dark hair and snake-like hips. Too thin for a woman. As she passed she saw the skinny man’s mouth open and a flash of white, a grimace or a smile, she wasn’t sure. As he bared his teeth he raised his hand in a jaunty salute. She dropped her head, guilty at having been caught scrambling about on the eroding cliffs, and started to crunch her way back along the beach, ignoring the trickle of sweat that had already begun to inch its way down her back.

She chose a path along the shoreline. It was easier to walk on the densely packed shingle than the larger pebbles further up the beach, and the sea offered up a cooling blast of spray every now and then. Besides, it was the clearest path back to the car park; the further she got, the denser the bodies became, strewn across the beach in their positions of sun worship. Bare-bottomed children ran up and down between parents and the shoreline, shrieking and laughing; ladies with huge jiggling bosoms and magenta-coloured skin sat slumped in deckchairs; she passed a pack of teenagers, all long bronzed limbs and brimming confidence in skimpy bikinis, and tried not to imagine the worst as their hoots of laughter rang out as she passed. An old man baiting his fishing rod gave her a friendly nod. She nodded back and then returned her gaze to the horizon and her eventual destination: the ice cream van. It occurred to her for the first time that transporting ninety-nines back to the Crag without them disappearing into puddles of melted mush was going to be a mission in itself. Bloody Cassandra.

Finally, she turned away from the shoreline and waded up the beach, past the lifeguard slumped in his chair until at last the ice cream van came into view. It was parked in all its pink and turquoise glory in the turning circle at the edge of the sea wall. Nirvana. She could see a queue, orderly and polite, but only six or so people in front of her. Her hand went into her shorts pocket and fingered the grimy note Helen had given her. She had enough for ice creams and Cokes, but it would be a job carrying them all back to the Crag. Cassie and Sam would have to share. It would serve them right.

‘What’ll it be, missy?’ the rotund man asked when it came to her turn.

‘Two ninety-nines, please. Double flakes. And three cans of Coke.’

‘Right you are.’ The man turned and delved his arms into a deep fridge behind him.

‘Here you go,’ he said, handing her the cans. ‘Icy cold.’

‘Thanks.’ She pulled them towards her and then lifted one to her forehead. The cold metal stung her skin but she held it firm, enjoying the shock as the chill worked its way through her skin to her brain. Then she popped the lid and drank deep. Bubbles rushed out, too fast, and she choked, cold fizz finding an escape route through her nostrils and down the front of her T-shirt.

‘Bit thirsty, are we?’ asked an amused voice from behind.

Dora turned, embarrassed, and saw Steven Page, the coolest boy from her year standing behind her in the queue. She was mortified and flushed deep red. ‘I . . . er . . . yeah.’ She couldn’t think of anything to say. She busied herself by rubbing at the sticky mess on her white T-shirt. It seemed to spread beneath her fingers.

‘Good summer?’ he asked.

‘Not bad, thanks. You?’ She was glad she sounded calmer than she felt.

‘You know, same old,’ Steven replied.

‘Yeah,’ agreed Dora. She knew.

‘What are you up to?’

‘Now?’ Dora asked.

‘Yeah,’ he grinned.

‘Just getting ice cream.’ God, talk about stating the obvious.

Steven didn’t seem to mind. He shuffled closer, digging his hands into his jeans pockets and looking up at her with clear blue eyes from beneath his floppy brown hair. ‘Cool. Me too.’

‘Then I’m walking up to the Crag. My sister’s up there.’

Steven raised an eyebrow. ‘The Crag, eh?’

Dora blushed. Everyone knew about the Crag. ‘Er . . . yeah. My little brother too . . .’ She didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.

The ice cream man cleared his throat loudly above their heads. ‘. . . And two ninety-nines, doubles. That’ll be seven pounds fifty, love.’

Dora handed over the ten pound note. As she pocketed the change Steven spoke up.

‘What happened to your hand?’ he asked, indicating the angry red graze on her palm.

‘Just a silly fall. I tripped. It’s nothing.’ She rubbed at her sore hand self-consciously.

‘Well, it looks like you’re going to need some help with those,’ he said, indicating her drinks with a nod of his head. ‘Want me to walk with you?’

‘Sure.’ Dora blushed deeply again. ‘That’d be great. If you don’t mind?’

‘Cool, hang on a sec. I’ll just tell James.’ Dora looked across to where Steven had nodded with his head. James Buchan, another boy from her year sat on the sea wall observing them both with interest.

Dora felt her heart thumping wildly in her chest and she felt a little sick suddenly. Ice cream dripped onto her hand and she licked at it quickly, eager not to make any more mess. Why had she asked for a ninety-nine? It was so childish. And in this heat she’d have to wolf it down before it collapsed into a sticky mess. She saw Steven and James exchange a few words. The boy on the wall gave Steven a big grin, punched him on the arm and then dropped down off the wall, heading back onto the beach alone. Steven sauntered back to her.

‘Ready?’

‘Yep.’

‘Cool. Here, you’d better let me carry those.’

She handed him the two unopened cans of Coke and they set off down the beach, Steven ambling casually along, with Dora next to him, frantically licking at the edges of both ice creams in vain.

‘So, what’ve you been up to over the summer?’

Dora’s mind went blank. ‘Oh, you know, this and that.’

Steven nodded. ‘Me too.’

Silence. Dora concentrated on the steady crunch of her flip-flops on the shingle, willing the ice cream to defy its chemical properties and stay frozen.

‘I went to see that Austin Powers movie in Bridport,’ he offered finally.

‘Cool,’ Dora replied, watching a trickle of white goo make its way down the cone to the crease of her hand.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty funny.’

Silence again.

‘Have you been swimming?’ Dora tried, nodding her head at the sea.

‘No way! Too cold for me,’ Steven replied.

‘It’s lovely once you’re in.’

Steven looked at Dora, impressed. ‘Serious?’

‘Yeah. It’s the warmest it’ll get now. You know, after the summer . . .’ She trailed off.