Twisted Summer (2 page)

“Thanks.” He sighed in my direction. “We’ll have a chat, yeah? It’s not on to be rude to your mother.”

I scraped a pattern in the gravel with the tip of my shoe. “Whatever.”

“What-evaaah,” he mimicked. I was about to shoot him a cuss but he tutted loudly. “Yep. We’ll soon sort you out.”

Oh my God. I HATED him.

Mum tried to hug me. I shrugged her off with a hiss.

“Fine,” she muttered. “Be like that. I’ll see you on Monday morning, Danielle.”

“
See ya.” I knew I sounded about twelve, but the pair of them were ganging up on me and it made my stomach churn. I hated being patronized. You get all this talk about being an adult when you turn eighteen, but nobody actually lets you
be
one.

Mum climbed into the car and shot a helpless look at Gabe, who pressed his lips together. Wiggled his eyebrows.

What a cock.

The gravel ground beneath the tires as she reversed. They spat sand and stone-shards against my bare calves, and I jumped back, landing against my suitcase. Then the Nissan swung out on to the road and slowly, slowly grew smaller.

The air swelled heavy with aaaawkward. I think there was sand in my mouth.

“So,” said Gabe, “your Mum’s kind of a bitch, huh?”

I gawped up at him. “Um. Possibly?”

“Well.” He slid thick fingers beneath the handle of my suitcase and tugged it up. “Let’s get you back to the house.”

I followed him on to the dirt track, taking broad steps to keep up.

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming,” he added. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Oh yeah. Weekend with Uncle Gabe. Somebody call the fun police.”

He threw me a sarcastic scowl. “Okay. First things first—no more of this uncle bullshit. I’m just Gabe. It makes me feel old.”

“
You
are
old.”

“I’m twenty-nine, you cheeky madam.”

“My apologies. You’re a spring chicken.”

There was a gentle tug at my ponytail and I realized his fist had closed around it. I shuddered as I nudged him off.

“I’m starting to see what your Mum meant.” He flicked the sun-bleached wooden gate open. “You know, I don’t remember you being so…bouncy.”

I snapped up. “What?”

“Bratty.” He coughed. “I don’t remember you being so bratty.”

A vision of cat-sicked braids flashed in my head. “You sure about that?”

He held the gate open and nodded for me to follow. “Don’t push your luck.”

Mum’d told me Gabe had a cabin; what he actually had was a glorified garden shed nestled in a little clearing. A stack of logs climbed one side and ivy snaked across the other; the air smelled like charcoal and more freshly cut grass. Not far behind the sloped roof, waves swayed and sparkled in the sunshine as they lapped against a pebbled shore. A dusty Range Rover was parked to one side and cast a welcome spell of shade.

I’d planned on feeling stroppy and claustrophobic at this moment, but actually…it was kind of pretty.

“You’ve got running water, right?” I croaked.

He poked me in the shoulder. “I think you’ll be impressed at the array of modern conveniences I have, Miss Warren. Shower…electricity…”

“Internet?” Please. Please?

“Unlucky.” He shook his head. “Now…welcome to my humble abode.”

The wooden door creaked open and I stepped into the living area. A small kitchen occupied the left corner, and a corner-group sofa draped in patterned blankets dominated most of the remaining space. Shelves groaned under the weight of books and plants and photo frames, and the beat-up coffee table was scattered with shells.

“Bedroom’s the door over on your right,” he said, “and the bathroom is beside it.”

I glanced up from the piece of coral I was fingering on the fireplace. “There’s only one bedroom? So where will I…?”

“I’ll have the sofa. It’s comfy enough.” He left my suitcase beside the table and went to switch the kettle on. “Coffee?”

“Not really a fan.”

“Right. Um.” He peered into the fridge, wincing slightly as the light illuminated the dim corner. “I’ve got 7Up or milk. Are you too old for milk?”

My eyes darted left to right. “You’re going to offer me cocoa and a bedtime story as well, aren’t you?”

He snorted. “I hadn’t planned on being
that
creepy old guy.” He held the 7Up aloft and it cast dancing shards of bottle-green over the pale wood floor. “Better?”

“
Okay. So, like…” I stroked the coral’s bumpy surface again. “Why do you live
here
?” Why were you in a shed in the middle of nowhere, Gabe, and not a house like a normal person?

“This is my summer place. It gets way too cold in the winter, though. I’ve got a flat back in Plymouth where I spend most of the term.” The 7Up frothed into a pint glass as he poured. “I lecture at the uni there.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Paleobiology.”

“Oh.” I smiled before I could help myself. “I actually know what that is.” Esmé had applied to study oceanography and there was a paleobiology module. “Prehistoric plants and stuff, right?”

“A gold star for the brunette in row B6! Yep, pretty much.” He gestured about as he brought a mug to his lips. “Plants, animals…all sorts. I’ve got a fair few specimens in here.”

I took the glass he offered and swallowed in four gulps. God, I was thirsty.

“Long journey from Bristol, eh?” he said.

“Yeah.” I folded my arms. “Esmé would like it here.”

“Esmé?”

“My girlfriend.” I still felt fuzzy saying that.

“
Oh. I see.” He tried not to grin, but it was there anyway: white teeth flashed around a hint of pink tongue. He looked
filthy
.

I should not have had these thoughts about my not-uncle. Fuck. Why didn’t I smuggle any vodka?

“Have you been together long?” he said.

“Five months, fourteen days.” A blush prickled across my cheeks as I glanced at the time on my phone. “And about three hours.”

“It’s love, then. Ahh.” His grin melted to a smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” It was the way Esmé always told people. I felt like I should do the same.

We stood in silence for a moment, his fingers drumming on the kitchen counter. I pretended to be interested in his textbook collection.

“So,” he said eventually. “Want to go and explore a bit? Stretch your legs after that long journey?”

What I actually wanted to do was hide in the bathroom and call Esmé for one of our dirty gossips, but…no signal. Fail, fail, fail.

“Exploring it is,” I muttered.

Gabe led me around the back of the house, past a collection of brightly-colored surfboards, and on to a narrow stone path surrounded by gorse bushes. The almond scent of the blossoms was underscored by the heavy, salty air of the sea that the breeze carried in.

We were headed down to the beach I’d seen earlier. Even behind my sunglasses, the yellow sand was a sharp shot of colour beside the early evening sky. The clouds were closing in, wispy little fists chasing the waves. As much as I hated to admit it, I felt more relaxed here—in the company of a stranger—than I had at home lately.

“Are those solar panels up on the roof?” I pointed back to the house.

“Yep. A lot of the houses here have them.”

“You’re all eco, huh?”

“So should you be.” He glanced around, his shoulders loose as he walked. He had a bit of a strut going on. “One of the nice things about living here is how cut off I am. I fend for myself. All I need,” he smiled, pointing up, “is the sun. It tells me when to wake up and when to sleep. Keeps me warm. Powers everything. Makes me happy, actually.”

I squinted at him. “That’s the pansiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Gabe rolled gray eyes at me beneath his flicky fringe. “What’s with this attitude then, huh? What’s landed you here?”

Here with the person Mum appeared to hate the most? “Didn’t she tell you?”

“She thinks you’re getting lippy.” He paused to open a battered gate and we stepped out on to the beach. “She’s struggling, Danni.”

The gate creaked as I leaned on it to slip off my sandals. The sand was warm and powdery beneath my toes. I knew he wanted to say that Mum must’ve been desperate if she’d turned to him, but he was too polite to do so. It was nice to be considered like that…I think.

“She’s just…ugh. She’s got this boyfriend and he’s there like, all the time. Malcolm the Moron, I call him. They want me to be seen-not-heard. Like I’m five.”

“You don’t get on with him?”

“He’s a cock.” I wrinkled my nose. “He takes it upon himself to comment on everything—always nosing over my shoulder if I’m on the laptop, or tells me that my dinner isn’t very healthy, or something. And Mum always stands up for him.”

We padded down toward the water where the breeze whipped my ponytail against my neck. God, it was hot.

“Must be hard having somebody else in your space like that after your Mum’s been single all this time.” Gabe shielded his eyes with a hand. “Does she know how you feel about him?”

“
Yeah. And she just keeps going on about how she’ll be all alone when I go off to uni in September, and that I should be happy that she’s got someone. And I get that, I do…I don’t
want
her to be alone. But why do I have to put up with a complete arse just because of it? It’s my house too.” I’d thought about this myself; I’d never had to share Mum before. I had a father somewhere apparently but he’d never shown up for work, so to speak. Maybe I just wasn’t used to having a man around, I’d told myself. Maybe Malcolm reminded me that I didn’t have a dad.

But no. No. He really was just a cock.

He took a deep breath. “Look, I know Jess. I know she’s stubborn. And pissy.”

I couldn’t suppress my snigger at that one.

“But she might have a point,” he said. “I mean, if she hasn’t had anyone since your dad…father…that’s a long time to be alone. I’m not saying this guy isn’t a twat; maybe he is. He sounds like it. He might also be very good for her.”

I fiddled with the strap of my sundress nervously. “It’s not fair, the way she lets him treat me.”

“No, probably not. She’s only human though, Danni.” He offered me a rueful smile. “Listen. I’m not going to break your balls here—hell, I hardly know you. Don’t know if you even need it. So let’s make a deal: I’ll let you have a little holiday of a weekend, and you think about cutting your Mum some slack, okay? Just don’t tell her I went soft on you. Please.”

“Not sure how I’m supposed to have a holiday with no Internet,” I grumbled.

“I’ve got a liquor cabinet.”

There was that grin again, the one that made my muscles twitch in places they shouldn’t. Look away! Think about sticky girl parts! Ah…

“Okay, okay.” I dropped my voice to a stage whisper. “I keep it quiet, you feed me booze. This, I can work with. Best. Uncle. Ever.”

“Enough with the Uncle-ing. Seriously. Fucking hell.” He laughed at himself, scraping hair behind his ears in fingerfuls. “But yeah. Maybe we can make up for a little lost time?”

“
I’d like that.” I did
want
to hate him, but he was being so…reasonable.

“Come on then. Let’s go find some dinner.”

I was shaking the sand off my feet in his doorway when I heard him groan.

“Great. Great. Some job I’m doing.” He started rifling through the fridge.

“What?” I checked my fly…but I was wearing a dress, and had no fly.

“Let me guess—you forgot the sunblock?”

“I…” I grazed fingers over my collarbone, and it stung. Crap. “Not much need for it in Bristol.”

“You’re totally burned.” He fished a blue bottle out and gestured toward the sofa. “Come here. I’ve got Aftersun. Let’s just hope it fades before Monday.”

I sank down next to him against a cushion embroidered with pretty shell patterns, and he poured thick, white cream into my hands. It reeked of coconuts and it reminded me instantly of my trips to Spain with Mum. I lowered the straps of my dress and began to work it into my shoulders.

“So how come you’re never at family stuff?” I’d been dying to ask him. Screw you, tact! “Are you like a black sheep, or something?”

He spread his arms across the back of the couch. “A tanned sheep.” He chuckled.

If he was a) in a romance novel and b) had dimples, I’d have been all over those little pits of filth.
Oh, look at the dimples, you sexy mutha fudger.
Except he had none, and he was still worthy of a swooning girl with a pen. Gabe, one; dimples, nil.

And the second after I’d made that little observation, a fist of acid shot up from the depths of my stomach and jabbed me so hard in the throat, I nearly groaned. Guilt. It was like swallowing sandpaper.

“Am I a black sheep? Heh. There’s a question. Honestly?” Gabe said.