Summer of '76 (8 page)

‘Of course, “Fernando” is the one to beat,’ Gordon says, as they get to work on their third chalet. ‘Number one for four weeks on the trot. But it’s no wonder really. It’s classic pop. I love Abba, don’t you, Lukey?’

Luke stops sweeping, looks up from his broom and shakes his head slowly, looking at Gordon like he’s mad.

Gordon splutters, throwing his arms up theatrically, disturbing the dusty shards of window light. ‘What? You have to be joking! Why not?’

‘Because they’re, hmm, let me think… shit.’

Samantha hoots with laughter, appearing from the bathroom in her rubber gloves. She brought them from home, saying her mother insisted when she heard that they’d be cleaning other people’s loos. Her face glows beneath a light sheen of perspiration.

Gordon sits heavily on one of the twin beds, looking astonished. ‘I have never – I mean never – met anyone who doesn’t love Abba.’ He smiles at Sam and pokes a finger in Luke’s direction. ‘You’re going to be a challenge, young Luke.’

‘Oi. Don’t call me “young” Luke. Just “Luke” will do fine, thanks.’

Gordon sniggers and swings his feet up coyly, putting his hands behind his head while he earnestly studies the other two, Luke with his broom, Samantha in her pink gloves.
‘Good golly, Miss Molly,’ he sighs, forming a square with his fingers to frame them in his view. ‘Wouldn’t you two make the most fabulous couple?’

At the end of their shift Luke returns the cleaning trolley to Housekeeping, before heading back to meet the others in an out-of-action chalet they discovered on their walkabout at lunchtime. The lock is rusted and broken, and there’s no end of maintenance work needed to bring the rooms back up to use, but it’s still furnished, with a good view across the lawn towards the Suncoats’ accommodation block. When Luke arrives, Samantha and Gordon are already there, each reclining on one of the twin beds amidst a fog of fragrant smoke. The windows are all nailed shut and the chalet has a humid, damp odour which reminds Luke of the salt-soaked panels of the beach huts on Sandown seafront, when the holidaymakers have all gone home.

‘Lukester,’ Gordon drawls as Luke eases the door closed behind him. His eye squints as he inhales deeply. ‘Care for a toke, young man?’ He holds the joint out, and smiles, watching Luke closely as he brings it to his lips. ‘What a cupid’s bow to die for,’ Gordon sighs, and his eyelids slide shut, his fingers waving lightly, like a king dismissing a serf. He resembles a shrunken old man lying on the bed,
pale-skinned
and thin-haired, laid out for the coffin.

Luke laughs at the thought, coughing out little chokes of smoke, and Sam budges up on the bed, indicating for him to squish on beside her. She’s wearing her tiny shorts again, and as he shifts closer to keep from toppling off the bed he feels the soft brush of her skin against his.

‘This is cosy,’ she says, reaching across to take the joint from his far hand.

Across the lawn, some of the Suncoats are now congregating between shifts, sharing cigarettes and cans of drink in the afternoon heat. They look so much older, the women curvy and tall, some of the men thick-armed and
moustached. Gordon props himself on to his elbows for a better look, commenting on the broad shoulders of the Burt Reynolds lookalike at the centre of the group. ‘What a dish,’ he says, rolling his eyes as if it’s all too much.

‘What does your mum think?’ Sam asks, craning her neck to look directly at Gordon.

He appears to give it some thought. ‘Nothing,’ he replies, his eyes still on Burt Reynolds, who has now taken off his jacket to sit on the bench with his arm draped around one of the girls. ‘She’s too busy arranging my next blind date to even notice my, well –
lack of interest
in the opposite sex. Honestly, she’s always trying to pair me up with her friends’ daughters, talking about me as if I’m some kind of Greek god.’

Luke laughs, then stops short when Gordon scowls at him. ‘Well, you don’t look very Greek.’

‘Really? Some might say I’m a bit of an Adonis.’ He strikes a pose, flexing his puny white bicep as Luke and Sam collapse on the bed, shrieking with joint-fuelled laughter. Gordon sucks in his cheeks, feigning offence, sitting up to roll another, and Luke lets his gaze drift with the blue sky beyond the glass of the window, feeling the beads of perspiration prickle his upper lip.

‘So, I hear you know my Lenny?’ Samantha suddenly says, startling him out of his daze.

He stiffens, at once feeling exposed as he lies beside her on the narrow bed. ‘We were friends at primary school.’ He sits up, mirroring Gordon on the bed opposite.

She nods. ‘That’s what he said.’

Luke waits for her continue, but she just lies there smiling mysteriously. ‘Yeah, we were good mates back then,’ he says, ‘but not so much once we were in our teens.’

‘You’re not at all how he described you,’ she says, and Luke instantly feels defensive, a surge of hatred for Len pushing out through his chest. ‘He said you’re a bit of a wimp.’ She puts a hand up in front of her mouth.

‘Nice,’ Luke replies, and he turns to Gordon, who’s sucking deeply on the fresh reefer. ‘I remember that was one of his favourite expressions: “wimp”. For anyone who didn’t go around intimidating the other kids with their fists.’

‘Luke!’ Sam gasps, before shrieking with laughter again. ‘He’s my
boyfriend
. You can’t say that!’

Gordon passes the smoke to Luke. ‘Oh, I think he can, Sam. I mean, Lenny does sound like a bit of a thug, darling. And I haven’t even met him.’

‘
Tit-Head
, that’s what he used to call my mate Martin,’ Luke continues, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs, enjoying the straining sensation behind his ribcage, the
light-headed
fuzz as the marijuana seeps into his bloodstream. He exhales a thick white column of smoke up into the room, following its trail with his eyes. ‘What an idiot.’

‘Why Tit-Head?’ Sam sniggers, pressing the palm of one hand against his thigh while she stretches across for the joint.

‘His surname – it’s Brazier,’ Luke replies. ‘You know, like
brassiere
.’

Gordon and Sam frown, before simultaneously getting the joke, laughing so hard that the tears stream down their cheeks until they flop back against the mattress, exhausted and stoned.

On the way home, Luke stops off at Nan’s house. He notices how brightly green her front garden is, sheltered by tree cover, not exposed to the continuous glare of the summer’s rays like theirs. When there’s no answer, he lets himself in, and finds her asleep on the bed at the back of the house. Her hearing’s not so good these days, and she’s clearly startled when he knocks on the open bedroom door to let her know he’s there.

She makes a big drama when she sees him, shuffling her little legs off the patchwork quilt, telling him she wasn’t really asleep at all.

‘Just resting my leg,’ she says, pushing her feet into slippers and hobbling down the hall to the kitchen to put the kettle on. ‘Want to stay for your tea? It’s lamb stew.’

‘Love to – I’m starving. I thought I could chop up that dead wood out the back for you while I’m here. I know you won’t need it till the winter, but I won’t be around so much when I’m at poly, will I?’

‘What’s a Pollie?’

‘College, Nan. It’s what we call it these days. What about that wood?’

‘Well, if you’re sure, son. That’d be grand. So? What’s new?’

Still feeling slightly wasted, Luke flops into a kitchen chair, dragging another over with the toe of his shoe so he can put his feet up. ‘I’ve just finished work.’

Nan sits on the other side of the table as she waits for the kettle to boil. ‘Up at Sunshine Bay?’

‘Yup. Though I’m not that keen on the job title. Chalet maid! I’ll have to make sure Dad doesn’t find out; I’d never hear the end of it.’

Nan coughs, mopping at her pink old eyes with the corner of a hanky. ‘Good for you. Might even get yourself a girlfriend, if you’re lucky.’

‘Maybe. Actually, there’s a girl I like working there for the summer, so you never know.’

‘Oh, yes? Who’s that, then – someone nice?’

‘She’s really nice, but she’s going out with this idiot Len Dickens. Remember, he used to be in my year at school? He’s the one who was always giving Martin a hard time.’

‘Sounds like a twat,’ says Nan, pushing herself up to make the tea.

Luke tugs his earlobe. ‘Ha, you’re not wrong there, Nanna. Anyway, I get to work with Samantha while he’s off being a twat somewhere else, so I guess I’m the winner. And some of the others there are quite a laugh too. It’s nice to meet some new people for a change.’

Nan brings the teapot to the table and indicates to the biscuit tin on the shelf so that Luke can fetch it down. He notices she’s wheezing slightly and clutching her hankie tight.

‘You feeling OK, Nan?’

She waves him off. ‘I’m bleedin’ old, you daft bugger! I’m fine.’ She pours his tea and pushes the mug across the table. The sunlight crosses her hands, illuminating the translucent silver skin and the undulating contours of her veins. ‘Your mum and dad alright?’

He blows into his mug before taking a sip. ‘They’re fine. We’ve just had a new couple move in next door, so they’re trying really hard not to shout at each other in case the Michaelses overhear them. Mum says we’ll have to get a proper fence put up in the back garden now we’ve got neighbours.’

‘So, what are they like, these neighbours?’

‘She’s alright, but I’m not so sure about him.’ He lets out a small chuckle.

Nanna’s wrinkles deepen around her eyes. ‘Go on, spill it,’ she says.

He laughs, shaking his head. ‘The removals man arrived yesterday and walked straight down to the back of the house with their furniture. Mum was out in the back garden sunbathing.’

Nan links her fingers and cracks her knuckles. ‘Well, that’s not the end of the world,’ she says with a little wince.

‘It is if you like to sunbathe naked.’

Nan covers her mouth. ‘Oh, dear. Poor cow,’ she says.

Luke leans back in his seat, grinning. ‘She went mental.’

‘Bet it gave the removals fella a bit of a treat.’

‘That’s what Dad said. But the fat old husband saw too, so she’s been trying to keep a low profile ever since.’

Nan gets up and opens the back door to let in some fresh air. ‘So, do they argue a lot, then, your mum and dad?’

Luke stretches his arms high above his head in a yawn. ‘Oh, small stuff, mostly. But they’re always bickering lately.
I think she’s just bored, stuck at home looking after Kitty. And you know what Dad’s like – he’s not exactly the most helpful husband in the world.’

‘I feel sorry for her. I mean, I know he’s my son, but he can’t be the easiest man to live with. Trouble with him is, he thinks he’s God’s gift.’

Luke screws up his face. ‘But they do love each other.’

‘Of course they do. And he’s got a good heart,’ Nan replies. She reaches over the table and pats Luke’s arm. ‘You’ve just got to take him with a pinch of salt, that’s all.’

Back home, Luke finds Mum in the kitchen with Diana Michaels from next door. They’re sitting at the table with the back door open, drinking gin and tonics and cooing over one of the family photo albums. It’s just gone seven, and yet the heat of the day makes it feel like early afternoon still, with the scent of honeysuckle drifting in from the back garden. Kitty is sitting on the doorstep, digging around in a flowerpot filled with earth.

‘Oh, look!’ says Mum as Luke enters the kitchen, still fumbling with his chinstrap. Her cheeks are flushed. ‘Here’s the other man of the house.’

Luke drops his keys on the dresser and carefully lays his helmet on the wicker chair in the corner.

‘Hello, Luke,’ says Diana.

He takes a tumbler from the draining board and fills it at the tap, keeping his back to them. ‘Hello, Mrs Michaels.’

‘It’s Diana,
please
! Been anywhere nice?’

When Luke sets his glass down and turns back, he sees she’s wearing tiny white towelling shorts and a navy striped polo shirt that clings tightly to her rounded bosom. His cheeks burn and he makes a big show of running his hand across his brow, as if the redness is down to the heat. ‘I’m just back from Sunshine Bay. It’s the holiday camp. I’ve got a job there.’

‘Oh, how lovely! Are you a Redcoat! Or is it Blue?’

‘It’s Butlins with the red coats. Pontins with the blue. They call them Suncoats here.’

‘How super. We’ll have to come down and watch you one night,’ Diana says, prodding Mum’s wrist for agreement.

‘Oh, well –’ Luke tries to interject.

‘Oh, yes,
let’s
,’ says Mum, clearly having forgotten that he’s just going to be cleaning toilets and watching the pool. ‘We can make a girls’ night of it!’

Luke smiles politely at Diana, tearing his eyes from hers when she holds his gaze for a moment too long. ‘Where’s Dad?’ he asks Mum.

‘He’s gone down to the Crab and Lobster with Mike. And guess what?’

‘What?’ he says, opening the fridge and scanning the contents.

‘Well – it turns out that Mike’s got a son about the same age as you.’

Luke pulls out a large tub of raspberry yoghurt and peels back the lid. There’s just a thin watery scraping left at the bottom, with a Kitty-sized finger mark running through it. He wrinkles his nose and chucks the tub in the bin. ‘Yeah? That’s nice.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Diana takes a delicate little sip of her drink and looks up at Luke. ‘He finishes at boarding school in a couple of weeks, so he’ll be coming over to stay with us for the summer.’ Her hand hovers at her enticing chest. ‘We were wondering if you’d mind showing him around a bit? Introduce him to the island?’

Luke’s heart sinks; that’s all he needs. He closes the fridge door, having found nothing worth eating, and looks at Mum, who smiles at him encouragingly. ‘Maybe,’ he says, then instantly realises how rude it sounds. ‘Of course, I’m working most days, but, you know…’

‘Wonderful!’ Diana says, bouncing out of her seat to kiss his cheek.

His pulse races as her fingers brush his back, and he smiles again, awkwardly, desperate to leave the room. ‘Has anyone phoned?’ he asks on his way out.