Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce
Chapter 17
‘Tomasz.’ I wipe my sweaty palms down my leggings and take a deep breath. ‘I’m not in love with Ed and he isn’t in love with me. We’re friends, that’s all. We will never be more than that.’
‘But I’ve seen the two of you together. You’re all …’
‘Touchy-feely, lovey-dovey?’ I remember Yvonne’s words from the time she thought I should go for it with Ed with the aid of a pair of … nope, still can’t think about it without wanting to vomit all over the place. But if Yvonne thought we were into each other, it’s no wonder Tomasz was under the same impression. Is that why it took so long for us to get together? Why he never admitted that he liked me all that time? My palms are sweaty again already so I try to subtly wipe them down my leggings once more. I’m doing this, right now. I’m telling Tomasz how I feel and I’m going to grab his gorgeous face in my hands and kiss him over and over again to make up for the lost four years.
‘Elodie! Tomasz!’ Yvonne is making her way towards us, her face all red and her hair sticking to her forehead. ‘Wait up! I need to get away from those two. They’re talking French again. I swear I’m going to swing for Ed. He’s such a tosser sometimes, showing off with his stupid I-can-speak-two-languages knobheadedness.’ She places herself between me and Tomasz, pushing her arm through mine and then his, so we set off for the kiosk as a linked trio, with Yvonne in the middle like Dorothy on the way to Oz with her pals. ‘Sacha doesn’t speak another language, does he?’
Tomasz snorts. ‘He barely speaks English.’
‘Good, because that’s how I like my men: dumb as a box of frogs but with an arse I can sink my teeth into. Does Sacha have a hairy arse, by the way?’
Tomasz looks appalled. ‘He’s my brother.’
‘Exactly. You can’t tell me you haven’t seen his arse, so spill.’
‘I haven’t seen Sacha’s bare arse since we were little kids sharing a bath. I don’t want to think about his butt, never mind look at it.’
‘Spoilsport.’ Yvonne jabs Tomasz in the side with her elbow. ‘I’d take a sneaky peek for you.’
‘You’d spy on my brother’s naked butt for me?’ Tomasz pulls his chin back. ‘Thanks. I appreciate the sacrifice.’
Yvonne jabs him in the side again, but lighter this time. ‘Not at Sacha, you plank. At a girl you liked. Elodie, for example. If you fancied her, I’d tell you what a cracking pair of tits she has. Her nipples don’t point down or anything.’
‘Yvonne!’ I shove my friend, forgetting Tomasz is connected on the other side of her so that when she stumbles, she knocks into him like a domino. Luckily, neither falls over.
‘What? They don’t. They’re annoyingly perky, you lucky cow.’
‘They’re not that perky.’ I place my free hand over my chest. ‘And you don’t have to broadcast it.’
Yvonne shrugs. ‘It’s only Tomasz, and it isn’t as if he fancies you. If he did, I’d have to warn him that you don’t wax in the winter.’ Squealing with laughter, Yvonne unthreads her arms from me and Tomasz, and leaps out of the way before I can wallop her. She turns, facing us as she scuttles backwards. ‘What’s your problem? He’s just your mate. It isn’t as though I’m telling Ed your yeti secret.’
This is my chance. I can tell Yvonne – tell them both – that I wouldn’t want Ed to see me without my kit on in a million years, but I would like Tomasz to see me naked, thank you very much. But I don’t say a word as Yvonne resumes her place in between us, her arms threaded through ours. If Yvonne is Dorothy on her way to Oz, I am very much the Cowardly Lion.
We ride on after we’ve finished our drinks from the kiosk, finding ourselves on the high street of a small town. Yvonne spots a pub and begs for another pit stop and none of us argue. We sit outside, our bikes propped up against the wall, and savour every last drop after cycling in the sun. My scalp feels even tighter now and my thighs and arse cheeks are burning, but I feel content, despite everything. I remember enjoying this day out the first time round, but I didn’t appreciate it as much as I do now.
‘I need an ice cream.’ Yvonne points down the street, to a newsagent’s with a vintage Wall’s ice cream sign in the window. ‘Who wants what? Or shall I just get a selection?’
‘Just get a selection.’ Ed is slumped against the table, too knackered to even sit up straight never mind schlep down to the shop to choose an ice cream from the freezer.
‘I’ll give you a hand.’ Again, it’s Tomasz who offers to help, and the two wander down to the shop. Ed twists in his seat, propping his feet up on the bench in the space Yvonne has left. I close my eyes, tilting my face up to the sun, listening to the bustling of the shoppers around us. It’s much busier here than at the reservoir but I still feel at peace.
‘You guys.’ There’s a rustle and thud as Yvonne drops the ice creams on the table a few minutes later. ‘There’s a tattoo place around the corner.’ She indicates that Ed should move his feet, which he does, slowly, and with a groan. ‘I’ve wanted a tattoo for ages. We should all get one.’ She plonks herself down on the bench and grabs a Twister from the pile of ice creams.
‘I’ve already got a tattoo.’ Dominic rolls the sleeve of his T-shirt up to show off a wolf’s face made up of geometric shapes. It’s all sharp edges but somehow beautiful at the same time.
‘Then get another.’ Yvonne peels the wrapper off her Twister and turns to Tomasz. ‘Have you got any tattoos? I know Sacha’s got loads – that one on his neck is awesome.’
Tomasz shakes his head. ‘Nope. None.’
‘Me either.’ Ed opts for a Fab lolly. ‘But they are pretty cool. We should do it.’
Yvonne’s eyes light up. ‘Yeah? You’re up for it?’
Ed shrugs. ‘Yeah. Why not?’
Dominic takes the lime Calippo and peels the lid off. ‘I’m in.’
‘And me.’
Yvonne squeezes Tomasz’s arm, giving a happy little squeal before she turns to me, eyebrows rising. Tomasz has taken the Solero, leaving me with the Magnum, which I take, slowly removing the wrapper and pretending I don’t feel everybody’s eyes on me. I didn’t get a tattoo the first time round. I’d claimed somebody needed to keep an eye on the bikes, but the truth is I hadn’t been brave enough. Am I brave enough now? I wasn’t brave enough to open up to Tomasz earlier and I know I’ll regret it forever. Do I want to add to my list of disappointments so soon?
‘Let’s do it.’
‘Really?’ Yvonne’s eyes are flitting between the others, as though she’s waiting for one of them to crack and reveal it’s a wind-up. ‘You’re getting one? You? The scaredy-cat?’ Yvonne whoops with joy, forgetting the exhaustion of our cycling as she jumps up to do a little dance on the pavement. My stomach is churning so much I don’t really enjoy the Magnum, but I go through with the tattoo and it isn’t as bad as I’d always imagined it would be. Yvonne has a little dancing hedgehog inked onto her ankle while Tomasz opts for a series of little stars, trailing from his thumb to his inner wrist and Dominic has another wolf, this one smaller, more lifelike, sitting under his collarbone. I go for a dainty sprig of wild flowers because I was drawn to the design for some reason and couldn’t drag my eyes away from it once I’d spotted it.
‘Finally.’ Yvonne sighs, long and hard, when Ed emerges from the tattoo parlour. The rest of us are outside with the bikes, our tattoos finished ages ago. ‘What did you get?’
Ed holds out his wrist and pulls back the dressing to reveal South Park’s Butters, dressed in a blue bunny onesie.
‘Oh no.’ Dominic covers his eyes with his hands. ‘You don’t like South Park, do you?’
‘Love it, mate.’ Ed claps Dominic on the back. ‘It’s hilarious.’
Dominic removes his hands from his face, but he shakes his head as he looks down at the tattoo. ‘You do know that’s forever, don’t you?’
‘I love it.’ I reach up on tiptoe to kiss Ed’s cheek. I wish it was forever, more than anything.
‘I think it’s cute.’ Yvonne kisses his other cheek. ‘Not sure your grandad will approve though.’
‘Oh, shit.’ Ed secures the dressing back over the tattoo. ‘I didn’t think about that.’
‘Who cares what your grandad thinks?’ I grab my bike, dragging it away from the wall with more force than is necessary and stumble backwards. Tomasz holds out a hand to stop me from falling on my arse, and I smile my thanks before I turn back to Ed, the corners of my mouth already downturned. ‘You shouldn’t live your life in his shadow, tiptoeing around him. Be yourself. Be happy.’
Ed snorts. ‘Easy to say. Not so easy to put into practice.’ He grabs his bike and guides it out towards the road.
‘Do we have to ride all the way back home?’ Yvonne trudges towards her bike, as though she’s being led to a guillotine with a blunt blade. ‘Can’t we get a taxi?’
‘What about the bikes?’ Dominic hops onto his bike, using his foot to push it onto the road.
Yvonne shrugs. ‘I’m willing to sacrifice mine. It’s a rusty piece of crap anyway.’
‘Come on.’ Dominic’s pedalling now, leading the way as he calls over his shoulder. Yvonne groans but she follows. I set off too and my handlebars wobble beneath my hands. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to have that beer earlier. It was only one bottle but I feel rather unsteady and the tarmac looks as though its undulating in front of me.
And that’s when I hear it. The roar, loud and close, as though there’s something howling right down my ear. It’s unbearable and I squeeze my eyes shut, afraid of the sound, of the way my bike is rocking from side to side, the road almost liquid beneath my tyres now. The bike is whipped out from under me and I’m falling. I want to scream but my mouth won’t open.
‘Here you go, honey. Small sips.’
I’m back on the plane with the unused sick bag on my lap and the snoring guy next to me, as though no time has passed at all. Dolly pushes a plastic cup of water into my hands.
‘Better?’ Dolly watches me intently as I take a sip. My mouth is parched and I remember the heat of the bike ride, of the sun beating down on us. I lower the cup of water and Dolly’s eyes flick down to the empty sick bag on my lap. I pick it up, contemplating opening it up and vomiting into it but although I do feel pretty queasy, it’s starting to pass. I slip the bag into the pocket on the back of the seat on front of me, to show her that I’m not about to throw up. ‘You still look awfully pale, honey. Maybe a little nap would help. I have a sleep mask?’ She lifts her eyebrows and offers an encouraging smile but I shake my head. The last thing I need is sleep. I need to stay awake. Alert. In the present. ‘Are you sure? I can shut that guy up for you, no trouble.’ Leaning across me, she pokes a finger into the arm of the snoring guy next to me. He snuffles and bats at his arm before pulling the fleecy aeroplane blanket over his head. His snoring resumes immediately. Dolly gives a heavy eyeroll as she sinks back into her seat.
‘Dolly?’ I flip the little table down in front of me and place the cup of water into the indented circle. ‘Do you ever get déjà vu?’
‘I should have got déjà vu when I met my ex-husband.’ She rolls her eyes again, even heavier this time. ‘He was just like all the others: a liar and a cheat. Though he did mix it up a little by stealing my mom’s car as well. They’re all the same.’ She shoots daggers at the lumpy blanket next to me. ‘It’s just some are more handsome than others.’ Her lips turn up on one side and she shrugs. ‘And I’m a sucker for a handsome man. Can’t resist them. Are you married?’
I shake my head.
Dolly lifts her left hand, displaying a ring-free finger. ‘No, me neither. Though I gave it three goes, more fool me. All of them handsome. All of them liars and cheats. Well, no more.’ She shakes her head and slips her hand beneath her thigh, as though she can protect herself from any wayward engagement rings. ‘Have you ever been married?’ I shake my head again and Dolly pats me on the arm. ‘Good for you, honey. Good for you.’
I push a smile onto my face but I’m not feeling it. I’m not sure never marrying was good for me. It isn’t as though I’m happily single, and I’d wanted the whole husband, house, kids thing. I came close to it, once upon a time, but life threw us a massive curveball and we never recovered from it.
‘Do you have kids?’ There’s an ache I haven’t allowed myself to acknowledge since the day I flew out to California, heavy like a rock in the pit of my stomach. Being reminded of the hopes and dreams of the past has let it nudge its way back in.
‘Three.’ Dolly holds up the fingers on her right hand, the left still tucked safely under her thigh. ‘Two boys and a girl. All grown up now. Two married, one still keeping his options wide open. He reminds me of his father in a lot of ways, unfortunately.’
‘I don’t have any.’ There’s that ache again, pushing itself outwards. ‘I wanted them, but it didn’t happen.’ Ed died and the grief had taken over, overwhelming and all-consuming. I’d acted irrationally, made huge mistakes and ended up alone. At the time I believed that was what I wanted. What I needed. Now I know it wasn’t but it’s too late. I’m still on the fence about this whole time travel thing, because now I’m back to reality, the idea is ludicrous. But if it wasn’t all made up in my head, I had my chance to start again with Tomasz but I blew it because I was afraid.
‘Are you a sucker for a bad boy too?’ Dolly sucks in a breath and gives a slow shake of her head. ‘They’re lethal.’
My mind goes straight to Sacha. He was a bad boy, and definitely lethal, and he did break my heart into a million pieces with his reckless behaviour. I’ve never been able to put it back together in the same way since. They say that time heals but that’s a load of bollocks if you ask me. Some wounds remain, no matter how well you mask them from the world.
‘Still, life would be boring without them, wouldn’t it?’ Dolly chuckles throatily while I try to imagine a life without Sacha. A life where Franciszek didn’t keep his promise to Irene, where the Nowak family remained in Nottingham instead of moving to Little Heaton. A life without meeting Tomasz.
The ache’s back, but it isn’t for the babies-that-never-were this time. It’s for him. My perfect one. The one I was supposed to live happily ever after with, to have the babies with, to tell our story to over and again like Irene and Franciszek. Now, I’m not saying the story would be as epic as theirs, but the love would have been just as strong, just as real. But our story isn’t a love story at all. It’s a tragedy and no amount of daydreaming can change it.
I’m on edge for a little while, waiting for the rumble and the roar that will set me off into the past but nothing happens. I sip my water. The guy next to me snores under his blanket. And Dolly talks. A lot. When she nips to the loo I take the opportunity to plug my headphones into the in-seat entertainment system, smiling when she flops back into her seat but not removing my headphones. Dolly plugs in her own headphones and taps at the screen as she searches for something to pass the time. I’m starting to relax as I lose myself in the film – it’s one I’ve seen before, lots of times, so it’s familiar and comforting – when I feel agitated movement beside me. I lower my headphones so they’re off my ears and resting around the back of my neck.
‘Everything okay?’
Dolly growls as she jiggles the headphone jack in the socket. ‘Stupid things aren’t working. The sound keeps cutting out.’ She jiggles the wire again, more aggressively. ‘Ah, there we go.’ She grins and gives a nod of triumph before settling down in her seat to watch her film. I slide my headphones back into place but I can’t seem to unwind again. I keep thinking about home. About Ed and Tomasz. I’m too hot. Too enclosed. I remember the expanse of the reservoir, the space, the air, the chirrup of the birds and the fluttering of the butterflies. I can almost taste the tang of the sour cream Pringles. It had to have been real. As crazy as it is, I had to have been there only a few moments ago.
I take a sip of water but it doesn’t help. I feel as though I’m boiling inside and the heat is pulsing out of me. I’m still wearing my cardigan, half unbuttoned, so I slip it off, folding it and wedging it into the pocket on the back of the seat in front to keep it out of the way. Dolly taps me on the shoulder and I expect to hear another complaint about the faulty headphones, but she’s smiling at me.
‘Love it. Very pretty. Bohemian, almost.’
‘I’m sorry?’ I look at the cardigan. There’s nothing bohemian about it and I wouldn’t describe it as pretty. It’s mid-grey with small, plain buttons. Functional rather than fashionable for the flight.
Dolly’s smile fades. ‘I’ve got my first husband’s name tattooed on me. I won’t tell you where.’ She grimaces and shakes her head. ‘I wish I’d got something pretty instead of branding myself with that jackass forever.’ She pulls at her collar, revealing three small Chinese symbols. ‘I’ve got these as well. They’re supposed to mean love, faith and serenity, but who knows? I wish I’d gone for something beautiful like yours.’
Like mine? I don’t have a tattoo. I was too chicken. I stayed outside with the bikes while the others got theirs. Except when I went back in time and threw caution to the wind and did things differently.
‘Excuse me.’ I whip the headphones off and squeeze past Dolly, stumbling out in the aisle because I haven’t given her enough time to move aside. There’s already somebody in the loo, so I fidget outside, as though I’m desperate for a wee when really I’m just on the brink of freaking out. Finally, the bar on the lock slides over to vacant and I rudely push myself inside before the current occupier is fully over the threshold. I can’t care about manners right now though. Shoving the door closed, I lock it before standing in front of the sink, twisting so I can see my shoulder blade in the mirror.
And there it is. A sprig of wild flowers that shouldn’t be there because I wasn’t brave enough to get the tattoo in real life. But it’s there. It’s really there. I reach for the tattoo, half expecting it to come away as I run my fingers over it, the ink smudging because it isn’t a real tattoo. It’s a fake. An illusion. But it doesn’t disappear. It’s doesn’t smudge. It stays fast. Permanent. I touch it again, pressing hard, until it hurts.
It is real.The tattoo is actually there, inked onto my skin the day of the bike ride. But that means it definitely wasn’t a daydream or an hallucination. It means I really did go back in time, revisiting past events and I changed them. And that means if I go back again, I can save Ed. I can stop the accident. I can save his life.