Summer Secrets (29 page)

“It was all Billy Joel and Carole King. Fantastic stuff.”

Enough Billy Joel and Carole King. I have to cut to the chase. “I thought Eddie was gorgeous. Like, really, properly gorgeous. Like, loin-stirringly gorgeous. I think maybe he might have been interested in me. I can’t stand it anymore—please tell me he said something about me.”

Sam stares at me. “What?”

“I know! I’m behaving like a lovestruck teenager. I know it’s ridiculous, but I have this huge crush, and if he liked me he would have said something to you. Come on, Sam, put me out of my misery, did he?”

And Sam stares.

“Sweetie,” he says, slowly, cautiously, and after a sigh, “how do you not realize that he’s gay?”

I shake my head and start to laugh. “Not this time, Sam. You think everyone’s gay, particularly if they’re handsome and in good shape. There’s no way his mother would have set us up if he was gay. And he’s not gay.”

“Cat, he’s gay. His mother doesn’t know.”

“Bullshit. He’s not gay.”

“If I tell you he kissed me last night would you believe me?”

“That’s not funny, Sam.”

“I know. I’m not smiling.”

And he’s not. His face is deadly serious, and worse than that, there’s a look on it that if I didn’t know better I would say was pity.

“Shit!” I jump up from the table, completely and utterly mortified. I know Sam is my best friend, and I know I can tell him anything, and he is probably not looking at me right now thinking I am the biggest idiot in the whole world, but that’s how I’m feeling.

I am the biggest idiot in the whole world.

“Cat?” Sam jumps up after me. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you didn’t know. You have great gaydar. How could you not tell? I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you didn’t … Oh God. I’m sorry.”

I turn from the stairs, which I am climbing in a bid to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers, never wanting to look Sam in the eye again.

“I cannot believe what a fool I seem.”

“Sweetie,” he says gently, taking my hand and pulling me back toward the kitchen, “if you knew the number of times I’ve hit on straight men convinced they were interested in me, you would not be feeling a fool. And he’s not swishy. And he’s American, and frankly, even I wasn’t sure. I mean, I kind of thought he was at a certain point in the evening, but I don’t always get it right.”

“But how can his mother not know?”

“Apparently his dad was a huge homophobe, and he just decided it was easier to not tell anyone. It’s why he moved away for so long. He’s planning on telling his mother, just hasn’t found the right time, although she’s constantly trying to fix him up with women, so he’s realizing he’s just going to have to bite the bullet and get it over with soon.”

“How do you live with that kind of secret from your parents?” I say, realizing, as the words come out of my mouth, that my mother lived with a far bigger secret, one that would have blown her life apart.

“His mother would be fine,” I say, knowing that her years in program will have prepared her for this. “Shocked, probably, given that she thinks her son is the most eligible straight single man on the island, but she’ll accept it. She has years of recovery. I can’t believe he wouldn’t tell her.”

“He said on some levels his mother is extraordinary, and accepting, and loving, but she’s also a devout Christian, and has particularly strong views on homosexuals, as she calls them.”

“So he actually kissed you?”

“Are you sure you want to hear about this?” He peers at me dubiously.

“Yes. Now that I am over my utter mortification at fantasizing a future with a gay man, yes, I want to hear all about it.”

“Oh my God, Cat,” Sam burbles, suddenly as giddy as a teenager. “He is gorgeous! We talked about everything, the whole him being gay thing, but I wasn’t sure he was interested in me, and then, when we left the Club Car and were walking down a side street, he just grabbed me, pushed me back against a wall, and started kissing me. It was the craziest, sexiest thing that’s happened to me in years.”

I pull the front of my shirt away from my chest, fanning myself. “Okay, so I’m not supremely jealous. Given that the last person I kissed was Jason, and that was probably a year and a half ago, I could throw up, I’m so jealous. So it was amazing, yes?”

“Out of this world amazing.”

I look closely at Sam. “Did you have sex?”

His hand flies to his chest, a horrified expression on his face. “Cat! What kind of boy do you think I am?”

“A horny one?”

“Well, yes. I certainly was last night, but no, we didn’t have sex. Not on the first date.”

“Are you seeing him again?”

“I bloody well hope so. He apparently has some kind of social tonight and invited us.”

“Both of us?”

“Yes.”

“So I can be the big fat gooseberry?”

“Well, it was nice of him to invite you.”

“There’s no way I’m going to come and be the third wheel in your budding romance. I’ll feel like an idiot.”

“Apparently there’ll be a few single men there. Straight ones. I think we should go.”

“I don’t know whether I’m interested in meeting anyone. Right now I need to stay focused on raising Annie and being a good mum.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “And that’s why you were all aquiver last night at the possibility of Eddie being straight?”

“Can you please not remind me? Let’s just move on.”

And we do.

*   *   *

Annie emerges, finally, close to noon, black eyeliner smudged under her eyes, her usual sunny demeanor replaced by one that is surly and distracted, and horrifyingly familiar to me.

My God, I think. It happened, finally. My little girl just became a teenager.

I think back to a comedy sketch I once saw, a sweet little boy sitting with his parents waiting for the clock to strike midnight so he can turn thirteen. On the stroke of midnight he transforms, in a seemingly painful way, into a teenager. His short back and sides grow, werewolflike, to a long, greasy mess. His smile is replaced with a growl, and his response to his parents is a loud bark: I hate you! Oh, Harry Enfield, I think, how right you were. I just didn’t expect it to ever happen to my sweet little girl, and how is it possible that it seems to have happened, literally, in twenty-four hours?

“How was last night?” I say brightly, hoping to pull her out of her funk. “There are chocolate croissants there if you want breakfast, although”—I look at my watch—“it’s almost time for lunch.”

“It was fine,” she says, shrugging, taking a croissant and spraying crumbs everywhere. I resist the urge to reprimand her, instead quietly getting a plate and putting it in front of her.

“What did you do?”

“Went for dinner. Hung out.”

“So what does that mean?” I attempt, with a laugh. “Hang out? What do you actually do?”

“Nothing,” she barks. “That’s the point.”

“Okay. Sorry I asked. How was Julia? Is she fun?”

“Totally!” Annie says, in an almost perfect American accent. “She’s amazing! Oh, and Trudy called. She wants to see me tonight. Can I go?”

I start in surprise. “Ellie said it was okay?”

Annie shrugs. “I guess.”

Wow, I think. Julia really is that good.

Annie sidles over to me, sliding an arm around me and resting her head on my shoulder in a semblance of old Annie, sweet Annie. “Mummy?” she says, and I know this means she is about to ask for something. “Can I sleep over at Trudy’s tonight? Her mum is off island tonight and said she can have four girlfriends sleep over, and they really, really want me to go.”

“Her mom’s not going to be there and she’s allowing friends to spend the night? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Trudy’s completely trustworthy, and they are sixteen.”

“I know. That’s what worries me.”

“Mum! There won’t be any boys, it’s just girls, and she
is
my cousin. We’re going to hang out at the beach today, then go back to Trudy’s house. Her mum leaves at lunchtime, and I promise we won’t go to bed late.”

“There won’t be any drugs or alcohol?”

Annie looks horrified. “Who do you think I am? Of course not!”

“Okay, I was just checking. I’m just a little nervous about letting you go somewhere with no adult supervision.”

“You let me stay at Emily’s house all the time when her parents are in the country.”

That’s true, but it feels different. I have known Emily since junior school, know her parents, know how she lives. Also, Emily, as lovely as she is, is something of a nerd, a fact I am extremely grateful for. I would far prefer Annie to be hanging out with Emily, trust Emily far more than I trust Trudy. Not that I have any evidence to base it on, but Sam described Trudy as “fast,” and even though she is sweet, and has a lovely smile, and is polite, I have an instinct that all is not as it seems, she is not all she seems.

Years ago, I would override my instincts at every turn. I would meet some woman, and have an intuition that she was a little bit crazy, but she would go out of her way to befriend me, phoning me, inviting me places, so that I would soon decide I was the one with the problem and clearly my instincts were entirely wrong.

Except they never were. We would become instant best friends, until something would inevitably happen to prove me right. I would always look back in regret, wishing I had listened to that inner voice telling me something was wrong.

It isn’t that the voice is telling me there’s something wrong with Trudy, just that perhaps the sweetness isn’t all there is. She’s
too
sweet. It feels disingenuous.

“Let me think about it,” I say, watching Annie’s smile disappear, the sullen expression take over her face again.

“You can’t say no,” she snaps. “You just can’t. If you say no this will end up being the worst holiday of my life. I finally have the chance to be part of a group of girls, to actually belong somewhere, and you saying no will ruin that for me. If I don’t go tonight, then I will never be part of that group, and everything will be ruined.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. The drama! Instead I nod, as if I am carefully considering everything she is saying, and pull Sam out to the screen porch to see what he thinks.

“I think she should go,” he says, before I have a chance to say anything.

“There’s something I don’t feel right about,” I admit reluctantly. “I know Trudy is family, kind of, but you saying you thought she was fast has really made me uncomfortable. I think you’re right. And I worry about what they’ll get up to.”

“Fast doesn’t mean bad, it just means she’s a little more worldly. Frankly I think you’re incredibly lucky that Annie’s had such an innocent ride up until now. What were you doing at that age? I was smoking pot like it was going out of fashion, and I’m pretty damn sure you were drinking your way into oblivion.”

“Maybe. But this is Annie! Sweet, innocent Annie. I don’t want her corrupted.”

“Sweetie, it’s going to happen, whether you like it or not. If she’s going to experiment with something, surely it’s better it happens here rather than London? It’s not only safer, it’s contained. We’re leaving in less than two weeks and then it’s over. Plus, this is part of growing up. You can’t protect her forever.”

I sigh. “I really don’t want to say yes, but I know she will never get over it. Also, I do see your point. If she’s going to get stoned, let it happen on a beach on Nantucket.”

“I’m sure their shit is better anyway,” says Sam. “I spent my teenage years rolling joints out of hash. Horrible stuff. Half the time it just made me throw up. At least here you’ve got to presume they’re getting good grass.”

“You do realize you’re talking to a recovering alcoholic?” I say. “And you’re not exactly alcohol-free. Maybe we’re the ones who are fucked up? Maybe what you and I think is normal isn’t normal at all and we should be saying no?”

And I realize it’s true. For a very long time I presumed that all teenagers did what I did, got drunk, were wild, had nights they couldn’t remember. I thought it was absolutely normal to drink, to get stoned, it was part of being a teenager, and I fully expected that when I grew up and had children of my own, they would do exactly the same thing.

Then I got sober. And I started to hear other people talk about their childhoods, and they didn’t have the kind of teenage years I had. Of course there were fights with their parents, and discord, and hard times, but most people didn’t lose their teenage years to a sea of drugs and alcohol. Most people didn’t accept that as normal behavior.

It wasn’t what everyone did.

“We’re not fucked up,” says Sam. “Maybe just a bit, but in the best possible way. And despite all of it, neither you or I is doing so badly. Let’s not turn this into something bigger. Just let her have fun. It’s a holiday, and it’s her cousin. Who knows when they’ll see each other again, and she’ll love you much more for saying yes.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” I sigh, and go back into the kitchen to tell Annie she can go.

“I love you!” She jumps up from the table, literally shrieking with joy, flinging her arms around me and covering my face with kisses, the surly teenager just sitting at the kitchen table now replaced by my sweet little girl. “You’re the best mum in the whole world!” And even though I know this isn’t real, even though I know this is temporary and will only last about two more minutes, I put my arms around her and sink into this moment of joy.

*   *   *

Sam and I walk up and down the docks in Nantucket Harbor, trying to peer into all the boats, amazed at the luxury and beauty of some of them, the size. Every now and then he pauses, whipping out his phone and furiously texting, and I glance over to see Eddie’s name. Each time a text arrives, Sam starts smiling like a lovestruck teenager.

“Apparently it’s a fund-raiser for the firemen,” he says at one point, his eyes lighting up. “Now you have to come.”

“Since when has firefighting been a cause close to your heart?”

He stops in his tracks. “Have you ever seen an American firefighter? I have no idea how they do it, but they make them differently over here. They are quite the most gorgeous things you’ve ever seen. Turns out”—he grins smugly—“Eddie’s a volunteer.”