Our Last Summer by Jennifer Joyce
Chapter 8
‘This. Is. Amazing.’
Yvonne swipes a finger up her chin towards her bottom lip, scooping up the marshmallow goo before licking it from the tip of her finger. It’s nearly midnight and we’re sitting in the woods, cross-legged in front of the campfire Ed has set going, showing off his Scouting skills. He’s brought a rucksack of supplies with him, including a couple of torches and a pack of giant marshmallows.
‘Will you have these every night while you’re away?’ Yvonne waves her stick before pulling the remaining blob of marshmallow off with her teeth.
‘Doubt it.’ Ed reaches into the bag of marshmallows and passes one to Yvonne so she can reload her stick. ‘I’ll probably be stuck cleaning the bogs or something.’
‘There are worse jobs.’ Tomasz pulls his own marshmallow away from the fire and blows on it before taking a tentative bite. He catches my eye but I pretend I haven’t noticed.
‘Your grandad will kill you if he finds out you nicked these marshmallows from the Scouts’ cupboard.’ I check on my marshmallow but it isn’t ready yet.
‘He can’t kill me. He’s a man of the cloth and all that. He’ll just have to go all red-faced and threaten me with the fires of Hell. Again. Which is fine with me.’ Ed lifts the bag of marshmallows. ‘Toasted marshmallows every night.’
‘It must be such a pain in the arse having a vicar as a grandad.’ Yvonne slides her marshmallow onto the stick and pushes it towards the flames. ‘My grandad is proud about the fact he hasn’t stepped foot in a church since his wedding day.’
‘My grandad was brought up Catholic, but he gave up on God during the war.’ Tomasz takes a big bite of his marshmallow. The oozy middle is hot and his eyes widen as he flaps a hand in front of his mouth. ‘Shit, that’s like fucking lava.’
Ed grins. ‘As hot as the fires of Hell. I’d better get used to it.’
‘Tell us about your grandad, Tomasz.’ Yvonne checks her marshmallow but it’s barely changed colour and she returns it to the heat. I’d once loved the story of Franciszek and Irene, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it again. I have no choice in the matter, however, as Tomasz loved telling the story as much as we’d loved hearing it.
‘Grandad’s Polish, but he ended up here, at Durban Castle, during the war.’ Tomasz turns slightly, towards the direction of the castle at the top of the hill at the edge of the village. I watch intently as he starts to speak again, watching the way his mouth moves, the slight twitch of his lips on the right-hand side before a full-on smile breaks out when he gets to a particularly wholesome part. He’s mesmerising in a way I didn’t notice at the time, not until much later.
‘The castle was being used as a hospital then, for wounded soldiers. Grandad went there and that’s when he met my grandma, Irene. She lived in the village, near the church. They fell in love but when Grandad was better, he had to go back out to fight. After the war, he stayed in Britain and ended up building houses down in Coventry. He set up in business with one of his war friends and ended up in Nottingham. He never forgot about Irene, though, and once he had enough money to support them both, he came back to Little Heaton and asked her to marry him. They moved to Nottingham, where they had Dad and my aunt and uncle, but Grandad always promised they’d come back to Little Heaton one day.’
‘And now they have.’ Yvonne sighs and checks on her marshmallow while I use the sleeve of my stripy T-shirt to wipe my damp cheeks. I thought I’d have forever to hear that story, but like everything in life, it had to come to an end.
‘You’re not telling that barf-inducing story again, are you?’
There’s the snap of a branch behind us. I twist around and see Sacha Nowak making his way towards us, his scuffed-up biker boots creating cracks and crunches as he passes through the woodland. Yvonne’s face lights up brighter than the flames in front of us.
‘Want a toasted marshmallow?’ She proffers her stick, where the marshmallow has started to char at the edges. ‘They’re delicious.’
Sacha shakes his head, barely looking at her or the marshmallow. ‘Nah, you’re all right.’ He crunches his way to where his brother is sitting and nudges him in the back with the toe of his boot. ‘Mum’s worried about you. Thinks you’ve got lost, though how you’d get lost in this tiny shithole is beyond me. You could fall in the canal and drown, I suppose.’ Sacha seems cheered by this suggestion, a smile spreading across his face. ‘I’d be an only child. The one getting all the attention. And I wouldn’t have to go out looking for my brother like he’s still a baby.’
Tomasz scrunches up his nose. ‘How did you even find us out here?’
Sacha aims the toes of a boot towards the flames. ‘I could see the smoke. Thought I’d check it out.’
‘You’re dead clever.’ Yvonne gazes up at Sacha, her eyes shining in the campfire light. ‘You should be a detective. Like Sherlock Holmes but without the dorky hat.’
Tomasz stands up, brushing the soil and tiny twigs from his jeans. ‘Why didn’t Mum phone me?’
‘Because you left your phone at home.’ Sacha pushes the side of his brother’s head, sending Tomasz’s hair flopping. ‘Dickhead.’
I stand up too. I want to shove Sacha, to tell him that he’s the dickhead. That everyone around this campfire will have their life ruined because of him. I want to shove him harder, and tell him how much I despise him. I want to hit him. Again and again. I want to hurt Sacha Nowak as much as he’s hurt me and the people I love, but I don’t think that’s even possible. I don’t think I could ever come close.
‘You okay?’ Ed is standing beside me, his voice a murmur beside my ear. I want to shake my head, because I’m not okay, but I nod instead, flicking my lips upwards as I unfurl my fists.
‘I’m a bit tired. I think I’m going to go home.’
‘Me too. I’ve got a set of highlights booked in first thing.’ Yvonne shoves her marshmallow in her mouth, swearing as the molten goo burns her mouth. She spits it out, flashing Sacha a sheepish look as it plops onto the ground. But Sacha has his back to us, already heading back towards the trees. Ed calls to him, offering him one of the torches, but Sacha simply holds up his phone and continues on. We put out the fire and pack everything away before we make our way through the woods.
Ed nudges me as we near the lane. ‘You’re quiet. You’ve been acting a bit odd today.’
There’s no point denying it. I’d be surprised if I hadn’t been acting weirded out given the circumstances. I’ve tried to mask the fact I’m an interloper by saying as little as possible, but that’s only made me stick out even more.
‘I’m just going to miss you. Every single day.’
‘Aww, Elodie.’ Ed puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close, kissing me on top of the head. ‘I’ll miss you too. Hey, are you actually crying?’ Ed stops, holding me by the shoulders and turning me to face him. He studies me intently as I look down at the ground, another tear loosening and gliding down my cheek. It’s all too much. Being here, on this day where everything changed. I didn’t realise it at the time, but this day was seismic in our lives: Tomasz and Sacha’s arrival, Ed’s camping adventure, the cassette tape. Three unconnected events that will shape our futures and we didn’t even know it.
‘I won’t go.’ Ed runs a thumb along my cheekbone, gathering up the tears that have settled there. ‘I’ll stay. Here, with you.’
I shake my head, swallowing down the huge lump in my throat. ‘You have to go. You have to go and have the most amazing time. Promise me. Promise you’ll live your best life out there.’
There’s a smile playing at Ed’s lips as he watches me swipe at my face with the sleeve of my jacket. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand. Not yet.
‘Promise me, Ed. Be happy.’
He huffs out a confused laugh, but he nods. ‘I promise. Anything for you, ma belle fille.’
We emerge out onto the lane, where Sacha’s sitting astride his motorbike. He revs the engine as we approach. ‘Want a lift?’
He aims the question at Tomasz, but it’s me who answers.
‘He doesn’t have a helmet.’
‘So what?’ Sacha looks at me. Properly looks at me, for far too long. I can’t stand it and have to drop my gaze.
‘It’s dangerous.’
Sacha snorts. ‘You getting on, bruv, or are you pansy like your little friend?’
Tomasz passes me and Ed, slowing his pace slightly. ‘It isn’t far. I’ll be all right.’ And then he climbs onto the back of his brother’s motorbike. Without warning, they zip away with a roar, Sacha swerving left and right across the lane to taunt me further.
‘Are you okay?’ Yvonne shuffles over, so she’s standing next to me. She reaches out to place a hand on my arm as I stumble. The ground seems to shift beneath my feet and there’s concern etched on Ed’s face as I reach out for him, but I’m still unstable even with my two best friends holding me up. I lurch backwards, and I’m falling. Towards the ground. Towards … nothing. My ears are filled with a deep roar, and I clasp my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut as I continue to plummet.
‘This is ridiculous.’
And just like that, the roar stops and I’m on solid ground. Or rather, I’m up in the air, back on the plane, safe and well as though nothing has happened. The man next to me is still snoring and Dolly is complaining as she turns away from the cabin crew. It was a dream after all and I’d laugh at myself for even thinking – however briefly – that I’d time-travelled, if I wasn’t freaked out by how real it had all felt.
‘All we wanted was one little drink.’ Dolly frowns at me. ‘Are you okay, honey? You’ve gone very pale.’ She pats me on the arm. ‘Do you need the barf bag?’
I shake my head. I’m totally weirded out, but I don’t think I’m going to hurl. ‘Did you feel that?’
Dolly’s rummaging in the seat pocket. She whips out the sick bag. ‘Feel what?’
‘The turbulence.’
Dolly hands over the sick bag. She smiles kindly at me. ‘What turbulence? I didn’t feel a thing.’ She pats me on the arm again. ‘Shall I get you some water, honey? Surely they can’t say no to that.’
Dolly reaches up to press the assistance button. Bong!
The rumble starts. There’s a roar. I know it’s happening again, whatever ‘it’ is. I squeeze my eyes shut as the roar and the rumble increases in force until I think I can’t take it for another second. And then it tails off. When I open my eyes, I have to shut them again straight away to block the super-bright light. Is this it? Death has caught up with me (‘So sorry I’m late, Ms Parker. You wouldn’t believe the queues. So much red tape when travelling these days!’) and now it’s finally time to step into the light?
I peel my eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light. It isn’t Death sitting across the room from me, and the light is simply sunlight shining through the window. I was expecting it to be dark. I was expecting the woods, and Ed and Yvonne. But while I’m no longer on the plane, I haven’t been delivered back to where I was only a moment ago, ready to pick up where I left off. Ready to say goodbye to Ed.