Читать книгу Storms - Chris Vick, Chris Vick - Страница 10

HE LIKED THIS. The girl sitting on the beach, him surfing the high-tide breakers.

The waves were big enough for him to chuck the board about. But not so big he’d get punished for it.

He pulled tricks: sharp bottom turns, up the wave, smack the board off the lip, drop back down into the power pocket. Up: float over the white crest, run back on the green. Pump the board for speed. Tuck in a tiny barrel as the wave closed on shore.

He took a bigger one, got some speed till the wave was almost closing, launched off the top and spun in the air, then tried to stick the board back into the wave. It was crazy to try a 360. He needed onshore wind that wasn’t there. He nose-dived the board in a foot of water, somersaulted and head-butted the sand.

He stood, spinning.

The girl – Hannah – laughed. Jake spat sand. He regretted making a tit of himself. Hannah stopped laughing and gave a sympathetic ‘argh’, then clapped and whistled. Her eyes were smiling. She wasn’t taking the piss.

‘I don’t know much about surfing,’ she said, ‘but that looked great.’

‘Even the wipe-out?’ he said, and winked. He walked up, leant over – careful not to drip on her – and kissed her.

She stood up.

‘My dad says you’ve got to fail and fall. And then get up again. In order to learn.’

‘A surfer is he?’ said Jake.

‘More of a yachtee.’

He put the board down. She opened the blanket and closed it round them both.

‘I’m soaking wet,’ he said.

She pushed against him and the warmth of her was like an unmade bed. Her hair was messed, her eyes raw and sleepy.

God. She was beautiful.

Her lips met his. Her tongue too. She tasted of toothpaste.

He wanted her. She writhed a little under the blanket, feeling him there. She unlocked her lips from his and leant back, meaning: Enough. For now.

He picked up his board.

‘So. What happens next?’ she said.

Did she mean right this second, or something else?

‘Um, breakfast?’ he said.

Hannah looked up at the blue-filling sky.

‘What time is it?’

‘Early. Won’t be anywhere open yet. Goof might have brekky stuff. Coffee leastways.’

She frowned. Her perma-smile dissolved.

‘I need to get a signal. Send some texts. I wasn’t exactly meant to be out all night.’

‘Where you supposed to be?’

‘Phoebe’s. In her spare room. It’s no biggy. Just parents, you know. They’ll want to know I’m okay.’

‘What will you tell them?’

‘That I’m at Phoebe’s. They’d freak if they thought I was out all night. With some boy. Who they don’t know. That’s three big bads. Besides …’ She frowned, and acted a gruff voice, ‘… Pete Lancaster’s daughter doesn’t sleep on a beach.’

‘Hannah … Lancaster. Goofy does stuff for your dad …’ It all clicked inside Jake’s head. ‘Pete Lancaster’s your dad?’

‘Yes. Is that … er, okay?’

‘Of course. I’m just … well. He’s a big cheese around here. He’s got a … rep, you know?’ Jake couldn’t find the words. Not honest ones. He’d never met the guy. But he knew plenty who had. And there was the time Lancaster had tried to buy their cottage off their landlord. That had been ugly. Too ugly to tell Hannah about right now.

‘He’ll want to know I’m okay,’ she said. ‘If I can get a message or two out, we can, you know, spend some time together? … If you’re not busy.’

‘Sure. I’d like that.’

Her smile came back. The sun, from behind a cloud.

They walked back to the dunes. Hannah sat on the bedding while Jake searched the sea of bodies.

Goofy was lying on his board bag. His jeans and pants were halfway down his bum, his mouth wide open and snuffle-snoring.

‘What a sight,’ said Jake. He picked up a seagull feather and wedged it down Goofy’s butt-crack.

‘Gerroff,’ Goofy slurred. ‘You’ve got your wetty on. You’ve been surfing and you didn’t wake me. Bastard. How is it?’

‘Decent. It’s got a bit of—’

‘N’er mind. What happened with you and that Hannah? Vanished, you did.’

‘She’s sat over there.’

Goofy looked over, and nodded his approval. ‘You be nice to this one, you hear?’

‘I’m always nice.’

‘Right. While it lasts.’

‘Listen, man, can you drive us? Hannah needs to get a signal, and we need some breakfast.’ Jake lowered his voice. ‘Away from this lot. Bit of privacy, like.’

‘Course. Gissa few minutes.’

*

They piled into the front of Goofy’s knackered van.

They’d drive to Penzeal, and get a signal over the moors. Then head to a café soon as one opened.

‘Quick brekky, then we’ll have you at your friend’s before they even wake up,’ said Goofy. ‘Don’t you worry ’bout nothing.’

‘Okay, great,’ said Hannah. She was looking at her phone. Concentrating on it.

‘You all right?’ said Jake.

‘Yes.’ She kept her eyes pinned to the phone. It lit up. Notifications streamed on to the screen. She scrolled through. Paused.

‘Shit. Dad’s coming to Phoebe’s to pick me up. We’re going to brunch with family friends.’

‘When?’ said Jake.

‘Now. Goofy, can you drive me there?’

Jake put a hand on Hannah’s arm. ‘It’s early. He’ll wait till you’re awake and you’ve sent a reply, right?’

‘Not Dad. He’ll just turn up.’ She was sitting bolt upright, looking at the screen. Frowning again.

‘Don’t stress,’ said Jake. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong. He’ll be okay, as long as he knows you’re all right. Let’s go for coffee: we can drop you in a bit.’

Hannah shot him a look like he didn’t understand. Like he didn’t have a clue.

‘No. I know we – I – haven’t done anything wrong. Look, I just don’t want to do a whole lot of explaining. We have to get there before him. Goofy, I’ll give you directions.’

*

They parked outside the drive of Phoebe’s house. What now? Jake thought.

Number swaps. Arranging to meet. But definitely meeting up? Or super-casual, yeah-I’ll-text-you vagueness?

Not this time. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her to know it. Fuck playing cool.

Hannah glanced up and down the road before turning to Jake. She opened her mouth to speak. But before she could a sleek, blue Merc sped round the corner and pulled up in front of the van.

Hannah’s father got out and stood square in front of the windscreen, hands on hips, looking from Goofy, to Jake, to Hannah.

He wore pressed jeans, deck shoes and a white shirt. He was tanned and smooth, but serious-looking.

‘Look, maybe you guys should go,’ said Hannah.

‘Why?’ said Jake. She smiled, weakly. Clearly, he still didn’t understand.

‘Can’t just scarper, can we?’ said Goofy. ‘I know your old man. Be rude not to say hello.’

How would it look if they just revved out of there? Like they were running away.

When Hannah got out, Jake followed. Goofy got out of the driver’s side.

‘Dad. Hi.’ She kissed him on the cheek. ‘We just went to get some … things for breakfast. The boys came over this morning.’ Her voice was high and forced. She was a bad liar.

‘So where are the breakfast things?’ said Hannah’s dad. He didn’t move, or raise his voice, or blink. Hannah shrank in his gaze.

‘The shop was closed,’ said Jake.

‘You know Goofy,’ said Hannah. ‘This is Jake.’ Pete Lancaster looked him up and down.

‘All right, Mr Lancaster,’ said Goofy.

Lancaster nodded at Goofy, then turned his eyes back to Jake.

‘Good party, was it?’ How he said it. It was a simple question, but loaded.

‘Yeah, we had a great time last night,’ said Jake. Hannah bowed her head.

‘Hannah, you don’t look like you had much sleep,’ her dad said.

It was true. Gorgeous as she was, she looked washed out. Party-broken.

‘I’m fine, Dad.’

‘Anything you need to get from the house?’

‘No. The girls are asleep. I can get it later.’

Pete Lancaster turned back to the car, opened the passenger door, then went and stood on the driver’s side, waiting.

Jake hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye. Now he had to do it with this guy watching.

‘Bye, then,’ said Jake.

Hannah looked to her father and back to Jake. She put her hand on the door, about to get in.

Then she bit her lip, thinking for a second, and ran to Jake. She kissed his cheek, bringing her lips close to his. Lingering. She whispered her number in his ear.

‘Got it?’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he whispered back.

Hannah and her dad got into the Merc, and it slid quietly away.

‘Pen, paper, phone. Quick,’ said Jake.

‘Why?’ said Goofy.

‘Her bloody number, that’s why.’ He went into the van, searching his sleeping bag and rucksack, saying the number out loud to himself. Repeating it over and over while Goofy laughed.