I wake up feeling slightly hungover with that classic foggy headache and dry mouth. I definitely can’t keep this up all summer. I roll over and check my phone, flicking through the confusing memories of last night on Cassie’s Instagram story. Just a few pictures from before Cal and Jack joined us. I put my phone back on charge and snuggle into my duvet. That stomach-jolt of joy at the sight of Cal’s smile … the memory of that kiss. I feel a rush of excitement and then a pang of guilt when I hear the short vibration of my phone, and without even looking at it I feel sure it’s Cal. I pick it back up. An unknown number. It must be him.
Fish + chips tonight? 7 at the good place? Just promise me you won’t be a typical Brit and make me say ‘fish and chips’ because you think my accent is silly!
I know where he means. Even though it’s a seaside town and there are loads of places to eat fish and chips, there’s only one that’s good. Really good. Crunchy, crispy, golden kind of good. Fish that’s structurally flaky but somehow still juicy kind of good. Chips that are fluffy in the middle and fried to perfection on the outside kind of good. It makes you wonder how anyone could get it wrong.
I instantly start typing my reply, unable to conceal my enthusiasm. But then … I think it through. A cloud of anxiety settles over me. The thought of going out with Daisy’s crush is a strange new world, but surely she deserves to know? If he really is – whisper it – interested in me, I should tell her so she doesn’t spend the rest of the summer hanging around the cinema waiting for her chance to talk to him. She’s my twin! Maybe now’s the time our twin telepathy will come in handy and I won’t have to tell her at all. Or maybe that means I do have to tell her because she’ll definitely guess otherwise.
But also … it’s only one little date. It might come to nothing, and what’s the point of causing trouble with Daisy over one date? Maybe he’ll be a horrible misogynist or announce he hates all art! Then there’s no need to tell her and no need to make things awkward and difficult before we go to uni. Anyway, he’ll probably realize that society is right and he’s much too good for me and that’ll be the end of it. Or maybe he’ll actually notice Daisy at the Coronet and then this whole thing can unfold the way everyone would expect it to, right?
I guess in that case … I should make hay while the sun shines. Enjoy it while it lasts. Enjoy being wanted, uncomplicatedly. Enjoy the attention of someone smart and compassionate enough to see things on their own terms, their view unclouded by beauty standards based on ideas that should have been thrown in the bin centuries ago. That’s it. I’ll go on one tiny little date, and if it goes well enough, I’ll tell Daisy then. Finally, I reply.
I’ll be there!
At that moment, Daisy bursts into my room like a snotty tornado, sniffing horribly. ‘Lily!’ she wails. Oh god, have I been found out so soon? What kind of whisper network is going on in this town?! ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t wait any longer and it’s your fault anyway because you always leave the hay-fever medicine in your room as if I don’t need to use it too,’ she fumes, foraging around on my dressing table for the white box of antihistamines. Phew. Hay-fever. We are equally afflicted. I just routinely forget to leave the communal medicine in a communal location.
‘And good morning to you, twin sister of mine!’ I throw my arms up triumphantly as she locates the medicine.
Daisy rests a tablet on her tongue and sits down on my bed, reaching for a glass of last night’s water. She downs it and grimaces as she realizes it’s hours old.
‘You’ll feel better in no time,’ I say, taking one myself. I pick up my phone again and text Cassie.
Hope you got home ok!
Alive and well. Last night was fun! Maybe we can DOUBLE DATE!!!!
I guess that means she’s planning on seeing Jack again.
Right now I’m focusing on a SINGLE DATE and I’m already stressed about what to wear so can you plsssssssssss be my stylist later?
Omg I literally thought you would never ask. I’ll FaceTime you like 6?
‘Did you have fun last night?’ Daisy asks, stroking Crystal who has padded her way onto the bed and is sitting in the hollow of Daisy’s crossed legs.
‘Yeah, it was good. Just normal. Just me and Cassie at the pub,’ I say, shrugging. ‘How about you? Was the shark film good? And by “good” I mean, like, in any way watchable or even vaguely entertaining?’
‘For your information, it wasn’t a shark, it was a crocodile. Sharks are very passé. And besides, the film was just a convenient excuse!’ I feel relieved she hasn’t mentioned seeing Cal. ‘I saw my crush!’ Damn.
‘Oh yeah?’ I ask, remaining carefully casual.
‘Yeeeees.’ She smiles, raising her eyebrows and running a finger through Crystal’s fur. ‘He definitely smiled at me.’
‘Are you sure he doesn’t just smile at everyone?’ I say, thinking of his generally sunny and charming nature.
‘Well, no, of course I’m not.’ Daisy rolls her eyes. ‘But I’m not completely stupid, I can tell what’s going on. And I felt like there was some kind of connection, you know?’
‘You’re probably right!’ I say. When I think about it, it’s not out of the question that if Cal likes me he could also be making eyes at my sister. It’s actually quite likely, in fact, since everyone seems to imply that I’m the inferior copy of her. But I can’t think like that. I have to just … live in the moment.
‘Maybe I am. I think I’m going to ask for his number next time I see him …’ Daisy gets up and starts prowling around the room, surveying my stuff, looking at the pictures on the walls, most of which I’ve drawn or painted, as if she hasn’t been in here a thousand times before.
‘Godspeed,’ I say, nodding sagely and hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel. I have a horrible vision of her asking him out at the cinema in front of her friends after hyping herself up to talk to him for months, only to get rejected. As much as I want him for myself, the thought of that makes me feel sick for her. I should say something. I should at least try to save her possible embarrassment. But how?
Daisy catches a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror leaning against the wall. She stands at an angle, craning her neck. ‘Do you think my thighs have got smaller?’
I make sure my face reads ‘unimpressed’ in case Daisy’s glancing in my direction, but inside I’m squirming with discomfort. Any time she says something like this it reminds me she’s looking at me with exactly the same gaze.
She runs a hand over them proudly. ‘I think they have. Definitely.’
She resumes her prowl. That interlude probably meant nothing to her but I’ll be thinking about it all day. Wondering if Daisy looks at my body the way she looks at hers.
‘This one’s my favourite,’ she says suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts. She bends slightly to look at a picture just below eye-level.
‘The watercolour of Gran’s garden?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s your favourite of all the stuff I’ve done?’ I ask, a little incredulously. It’s just a watercolour the size of a postcard, faithfully replicating the layout, the flowers, the way the light hits the garden in the afternoon.
‘Yeah,’ Daisy says, stepping back to survey it in context. ‘And of all the stuff on this wall as well.’
‘You know there are paintings on there by, like, real people? Like Georgia O’Keeffe and Lee Krasner,’ I say, smiling.
‘I’m not saying it’s better than those paintings, I’m just saying I like it more. Isn’t art supposed to be subjective?’ Daisy huffs, and I feel sorry for teasing her. She’s only being kind. ‘I don’t know what “better” even means, all I can tell you is that it’s my favourite thing that I see here.’
‘Well, thank you …’ I mutter.
‘Anyway, I gotta bounce. My shift at the garden centre starts in an hour.’
‘Don’t have too much fun,’ I say as she heads out.
She stops at the door and turns back to look at the room. ‘You really do paint the things you love so well. It’s like you bring out something in them that makes people see how you see things. I guess when you go to uni, you’ll find a whole bunch of new stuff to love and you’ll paint those too. Maybe I’ll like those more than the painting of Gran’s garden … but I doubt it.’ And with that, she leaves.
I sit on my bed, a little lump in my throat. It’s weird having someone in your life who understands you perfectly, whether you like it or not.
Will I have time to paint or even just draw when I’m at university in September? And even if I have time, will I have space? Where would I do it? And what would be the point if I’m studying art history anyway? I’ll probably have essays to write and things to do. The reading list is as long as my arm so maybe I’ll just stop painting as soon as I leave home and never do it again. I thought I would feel inhibited if I went to the same university as Daisy, but it’s possible that she motivates me in ways I might not motivate myself.
I lay back on top of the covers and try to think about what my life will look like by the end of the summer. No Daisy, no Mum, no cottage, no sea. No Cassie. Everything has been so solidly the same for so long that I don’t know what different will feel like. Maybe I should have stuck to the original plan and gone to uni with Daisy because then at least I would have her. But I can’t think about that now. I can’t think about how stupid it was for me to decide that everyone else was right, and that I needed to be independent before thinking through everything that meant leaving behind.
And it’s happening again. Something dark is swirling around in my brain and clutching at my heart. I can feel heat rising to my head and tingling in my hands, my breath catching in my throat. I sit up on my bed and try to breathe deeply to steady myself. It feels like there’s an elephant sitting on my chest and covering my mouth. I’m trapped inside a bubble with no air. I want to text Cal and cancel seeing him later but I don’t want to let this thing win. I’m just sick of it flaring up and crashing into my day like a … well, an elephant. I just need to ride it out. Not let it get the better of me. Not let it ruin my whole day. Shove it to the side until the next time.
Desperate to focus my mind on something other than everything, I stick my hand under my bed and pull out my small sketchbook and the clanging tin of soft pencils. I take a deep breath and look out of the window. I draw, in big, gestural strokes at first, the view of the garden of the house behind ours, over the hedge. And then I move up to the back of their house and sketch the outline of the building and then the windows and doors and then the bricks and the windowpanes and the creeping green-black ivy. Of course, I can’t make it green-black with my steely graphite pencils but I can darken it, add depth where there’s a short little shadow of the house projecting itself onto the patio. I can control this picture. Whether it’s good or bad, lifelike or unrecognizable. It’s my work, I invented it. And that gives me a degree of calm, which is exactly what I need right now. Focus on the page, not on what’s inside my head. Not on the date tonight.
Cassie FaceTimes me at six o’clock on the dot.
‘I’m here, babe, what do you need?’ she asks as she settles into a comfy position on her bed, leaning against her headboard and giving me her full attention.
‘Outfit advice.’ I hold up my first suggestion, a tight black T-shirt and ripped jeans.
‘Aren’t you gonna put it on?’
‘Alright then,’ I say, flipping the phone over so she can’t see me change.
‘Oi! It’s dark in here!’ I can hear her saying through the phone’s speaker as I put the outfit on.
I hold the front-facing camera at arm’s length to show her before resting it against a pile of books to liberate my hands. ‘It’s a good start,’ she says, ‘but I’m feeling like I want cute for you, like I want romantic for you, you know? This is quite sexy, which is obviously hot, but I just feel like romance is the one right now.’
‘Uhhh …’ I say, rummaging through the coat hangers in my wardrobe.
‘What about that?’ Cassie asks. ‘That yellow thing!’
‘This?’ I pull out a lemon-yellow tea dress that I like to wear with my beaten-up (formerly) white trainers.
‘Extremely Beauty and the Beast with your dark hair,’ Cassie says, nibbling on a Dorito.
‘An inspired suggestion,’ I say, trying it on. Huh, I think, checking myself out in my full-length mirror. Not too bad.
I hold the phone up again. ‘My mind!’ Cassie yelps. ‘This is the one!’
‘I think you’re right, you know! Ugh, where would I be without you?’
‘You’d be just fine, I promise. Anyway, how are you feeling? Confident? Dare I say … sexy?’ Cassie asks, optimistically.
I let out a sigh and flop onto the bed. ‘I don’t know, man … I’m nervous!’
‘You already know he likes you!’
‘That’s the weird part – at least if he was being kinda cagey, kinda meh, I would know what to do with it. I have this horrible feeling it’s some kind of elaborate prank,’ I say, my anxiety overriding the knowledge that Cal has been nothing but kind and forthcoming. Not to mention hot.
‘That would be a frankly bizarre amount of effort for a prank, mate.’
‘I guess … he doesn’t really seem like he would do that, does he?’
‘Nope. And more importantly, he is not too good for you! This all makes perfect sense! It only doesn’t make sense if you believe that everything narrow-minded people say is true.’
‘I’ve been brainwashed. It is brainwashing, isn’t it? This whole thing. This belief that some people are, like, better than others,’ I say.
‘You know it! You’re literally one hundred per cent prepared for this date: banging outfit, sparkling smile, and extremely keen boy who also happens to be extremely hot. Now, sort your life out and go show Daisy what you’re wearing for that final smidgen of approval.’
I’m on the verge of telling Cassie about Cal being Daisy’s crush, but I hold back. ‘Daisy’s out,’ I say with a shrug. I feel like she wouldn’t approve of my date this evening if she knew Cal was Daisy’s crush. I know she wouldn’t.
‘Well you can show off when she’s back. Don’t worry so much! You’re going to have fun and do today’s new thing: go on a date with someone you actually like,’ she urges before we say our goodbyes, frantic kisses sent towards the screen. Yeah, I guess that would be a new thing. Or would not telling Cassie about Cal be the ‘new thing’? Oh god.
As soon as we hang up I realize that I don’t know what to do about a jacket and in the space of one second my mind flips through a choose-your-own-adventure story. Hear me out: even though it’s a hot summer day, as soon as the sun goes down it gets cold. So I don’t want to be cold. But if I take a jacket, that will mean I have no excuse to do that cute-romantic-girl thing of taking his jacket, should he offer it. But also, what if all this happens and I take his jacket and obviously it doesn’t fit? But also, it’s not like he doesn’t know I’m fat, so if he did give me his jacket I could just casually drape it over my shoulders … wow, I’m really getting in deep with all of this. No jacket.
As if I haven’t thought quite enough about my date outfit choices, I’m about to pick up a tube of red lipstick to swipe over my lips when I pause and wonder if he’ll take that as a signal that I don’t want to kiss him. I go for the sweet beigey-pink that makes my lips seem even fuller, look in the mirror, and feel genuinely happy with what I see.
I pick up my phone and, stomach churning, save Cal’s number under ‘C’. Just in case Daisy sees it. I wonder if that makes it look even more suspicious … but I can’t risk it. Well, I guess that’s tipped me over into straight-up lying. Not something I ever thought I’d do with Daisy. But just one date – then I’ll deal with it. There probably won’t be anything to deal with. It’s just one date and that’ll be the end of it.
‘Lily!’ Mum calls from the corridor, before entering my room. ‘This book is actually really good, I— Well don’t you look nice!’
She’s holding yet another thriller in her hand. She will literally read anything as long as it has an element of suspense, and then she complains about how there are no good thrillers anymore and then she goes and buys another one.
I deflect again. ‘I’d heard that book was good!’
‘I mean you can never tell until the end,’ she says, effectively distracted, ‘but this one bodes well. I don’t think it’s going to turn out that a ghost was the murderer!’ Daisy and I have rarely seen our mum more furious than when she read her most unsatisfying thriller ever, something she refers to often and with great bitterness.
‘I don’t know if me and Daisy could live through that again, let alone you.’
‘So what are you up to today? Plans with Cassie?’ she asks. ‘I love that dress on you!’
‘Thanks, Mum. No, not today … um …’ I realize I haven’t quite processed it myself yet. The concept of going on a date. It feels faintly embarrassing to make something of it, even though I’m used to sharing stuff with my mum. Plus, I’ve got to make sure nothing too interesting-sounding gets back to Daisy. I go for vagueness. ‘I’m meeting someone tonight.’ Of course, there is nothing so interesting as vagueness when it’s phrased like this.
Mum snaps her book shut with a big grin. ‘Someone is a very non-specific word!’
‘Just someone I met last night when I was out with Cassie …’ I say, blushing. ‘We’re only going to the good fish and chips place, it’s nothing serious. Don’t worry about it, Mum.’
‘I’m not worried! I’m delighted! Not that there’s anything wrong with leaving things a bit later,’ she adds, hastily.
‘It’s not like I’m forty!’ I say, defensively. Daisy has had various boyfriends on and off for the past few years, and our mum has always remained very hands-off about the fact that I haven’t. Which I appreciate. I don’t need to be reminded. I don’t particularly want to do a deep dive into my psyche or hear someone tell me my romantic life would just magically improve if I was thin or whatever. I like my body despite the fact that everyone else constantly compares me with Daisy and then lets me know when they find me lacking. It’s nice that my mum has just let me be.
‘No, of course not.’ She rolls her eyes at me. ‘I’m not going to be bugging you about it, don’t worry. I just think it’s nice.’
I sigh. ‘Thank you.’
‘And is this somebody …’ She raises her eyebrows as if she wants me to finish her sentence, but I don’t actually know what she’s asking. ‘A … boy?’
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Well, I don’t want to assume! It would be worse if I assumed!’
‘I guess,’ I say with a shrug, feeling uncomfortable about the whole conversation now. But no time for that! I’ve got to stay focused on the task at hand. A date! A whole date! A real, actual date, like in the movies. Not loitering by the war memorial drinking cans. Me, going on a real date. It almost sounds too good to be true. ‘Hey, Mum …’ Daisy would maybe find my Summer of New Things silly, but I feel like my mum would get it.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m doing this … thing. I’m trying to do something new every day. Not necessarily something huge. But just … something. A Summer of New Things.’ I blush. It sounds a bit crazy when I say it out loud.
‘Oh, I love that!’ Mum says, stroking my hair. She sighs. ‘It’s the time for it, isn’t it? Big changes around here.’ She looks around, as if she’s trying to figure out what it’ll look like with me and Daisy gone, all our stuff gone, the house all quiet.
‘Yeah.’ I smile weakly, as if I think it’s a good thing. An exciting thing.
‘I’ve been thinking, maybe I should try something new too …’ Mum says. ‘Maybe try to meet someone. Maybe it’s time to give it a go. Maybe it can be my Summer of New Things, too.’
‘I like this for you!’
‘I like it for me, too. Now, go, go, go! I don’t want to hold you up!’
I’m barely at the end of the road when Daisy rounds the corner on her way home from work and almost knocks me over.
‘Huh! You look nice!’ Daisy exclaims, only a little incredulously before squinting at my lips. ‘Is that my Peachy Cream lipstick you’re wearing?’
‘No, actually, it’s mine! It’s Blossom Rose, anyway.’ For the sake of not getting stressed out before my date with Cal, I resist the urge to ask why me looking nice has to have something to do with her and can’t be, you know, an organic phenomenon.
‘Fine, but if it’s not there when I get back there’s going to be trouble. Where are you off to, anyway?’
‘Nowhere.’ I shrug nonchalantly, before realizing that ‘nowhere’ is not a satisfying answer and I will absolutely have to give her something. ‘Just meeting an old friend I bumped into at the pub last night.’
‘Oooh! A non-Cassie friend! I approve.’ She gasps, so delighted that she’s verging on patronizing. ‘You’ll have to tell me all about her when you’re home, I don’t want to detain you.’ And with that, she gives me an encouraging pat on the butt and runs off home.
I don’t feel good about skirting around the truth.
As I walk into town to meet Cal at Little Lane Fish Shop, a Dickensian-looking structure on a pedestrianized street far too tiny for cars to get down, I realize that I’m excited rather than nervous about seeing him. I thought I had to be nervous because it’s a date, but really I’m just looking forward to it. I know we’re going to have a good time.
I see him before he sees me, which gives me an opportunity to scope out how he’s looking. Which is, generally speaking, even cuter than I remember from last night. He’s wearing a teal-coloured check shirt like a lumberjack and black jeans with trainers.
‘Hey!’ Cal greets me a little shyly, like he can’t tell whether he’s meant to hug me or kiss me or both or neither so we end up doing this hideous hug-kiss-handshake.
‘Hey,’ I say, trying to let the cringe subside. ‘Let me get this? Just tell me what you want and I’ll sort it.’
Cal frowns at me. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah! I’m feeling generous today,’ I tell him, infused with the good feeling he seems to provoke. Besides, it’s only fish and chips.
I go in to order, and I realize the guy behind the counter was one of a group of guys from the boys’ school next to ours who Daisy and I would sometimes walk to school with.
‘Hi Sam! Cute little hat you’ve got there,’ I say, gesturing to the white hairnet keeping his dark curls under control.
‘Oh, hey! Yeah, it’s, uh, extremely next season.’ He smiles, baring his metallic braces. ‘It’s been a while!’
I place our order and lean against the counter while Sam scoops chips into a bag.
‘How’s Daisy?’
‘She’s fine,’ I say, although I’m really trying not to think about Daisy too much this evening. ‘Still constantly busy, always dashing off somewhere.’ I stare, fascinated, at the devilish-red saveloy sausages under the counter. ‘Hey, are you going to uni in September?’ I look up at Sam.
‘Uh, yeah,’ he says, dabbing at his forehead with the crook of his elbow. ‘Politics at Edinburgh.’ Before I can congratulate him, he asks, ‘What’s Daisy going to be up to then?’
‘Physics at Bristol, and I’m—’
‘That’s cool.’ He cuts me off, nodding sagely as he puts the paper bags into a thin plastic bag. ‘She was always into cool shit like that.’
‘I guess …’ I say.
‘That’ll be ten pounds eighty, please,’ Sam says, ringing it up on the till.
I hand over a note and a coin. ‘Thanks.’
‘Say hi to Daisy from me! Would be good to see her before we go to uni!’
‘Sure,’ I say, dropping my change into a tip jar even though I feel like Sam should be tipping me for that conversation. Thank you so much for reminding me that Daisy is the beautiful and fascinating one and I’m just … well, I’m just me.
I step outside and Cal’s gorgeous, kind, smiling face is the breath of fresh air I need right now. Sam’s idiocy would probably have bothered me more if I wasn’t on an actual date with Actual Cal. He takes the bag from me and lets it swing gently as we walk, me stealing glances at him and yes, every time, he is as cute as I remember. We make our way to the seafront, settling on a bench near the end of the pier, and look out over the sea.
‘Tell me about you,’ Cal says.
My mind goes blank as I wrack my brains for anything interesting. ‘I paint?’ I venture, somehow turning the thing I’m most passionate about into a question, as though I’m asking him if it’s interesting information.
‘Cool! What do you paint?’ He seems genuinely enthused, which is delightful.
‘Landscapes and seascapes. Places. I’m interested in colour and how you can create form with it and I always feel like nature is a good place to look for those meeting points,’ I say, and then I blush. ‘Sorry, I always find it really weird talking about my painting, like it’s embarrassing or something.’
‘I bet your work’s amazing. Do you want to paint my portrait?’ He forms a frame around his face with his hands and furrows his brow seriously.
‘Ha!’
‘What? I’m not a good enough subject for you?’
‘No, it’s not that … I just don’t really do people.’
‘No?’ He looks surprised.
‘I used to,’ I reply. I chew my lip for a moment. ‘But there was something intimidating about painting portraits, like I would reveal something of myself in how I painted someone else. Like anyone who looked at the painting would find out something about me that I didn’t intend to share.’ I’m taken aback by my own words. I hadn’t planned on saying something so personal but it just came out. I glance at Cal out of the corner of my eye. He looks thoughtful, not put off.
‘I get that,’ he says, handing me the box of fish and unfurling the bag of chips. ‘We’re always looking for autobiography in people’s work. Projecting things onto it.’
‘Especially women’s work,’ I add, putting my hand in the bag and gently grazing Cal’s hand as he pulls it out.
‘Yeah, for sure.’ He looks at me straightforwardly. He’s not interested in playing any games.
‘What’s New Zealand like?’ I ask, before nibbling my chip.
‘It’s amazing, some of it looks like another planet. Very green. Lots of sheep. Lots of rain,’ he says. He looks kind of wistful and nostalgic. ‘But it feels kind of small. I mean, I guess it is kind of small. I just wanted to see something else. Meet other people. See what life is like somewhere else.’
‘Specifically Weston Bay?’
‘Ha! No, not quite that specific. I was working in a bar in London for a while but I wanted to try somewhere less … hectic before I go back. And it’s always nice to be by the sea, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I say, looking out across the water. It almost comes out like a sigh. The sand, the sea and the glowing sunset sky are forming hazy, indistinct bars of colour, in the style of a Mark Rothko painting. It really is so beautiful. And somehow Cal manages to look so at home, right in the middle of it. ‘How long do you reckon you’ll stay here?’
‘Probably just until the end of the summer,’ he says. ‘Jack helped me find a short-term let in a flat with a couple of other guys. I’m only responsible for that until the end of September.’ Even less reason to mention this to Daisy. A classic summer romance with a clear expiry date. At least that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about losing when I go to uni. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, stay in the moment, I tell myself. I can’t have my fear of going away polluting tonight as well. ‘I should probably return to my real life, you know?’ he says. ‘I can’t put it off forever. Starting the rest of my life.’ He runs his hands through the thick sweep of dark hair that’s falling over his eyebrow.
And that little thought that just keeps coming back rears its ugly head once again: why is he bothering with me? If he could have Daisy, why not have Daisy instead of me? Maybe it’s just a matter of time until he meets Daisy and realizes he could. But he’s here with me.
The seagulls are swooping overhead, squawking cacophonously. I ask him what his real life looks like, and he tells me about his family in New Zealand, his parents who he thinks are great and his sister who’s an architect and who he describes as the smartest person he knows.
‘What about you? Do you get on with your parents?’
I pause for a second before answering. ‘I don’t really have a dad. But my mum is the best in every way, so I don’t really notice it.’
He nods, thoughtfully. ‘Did you ever have a dad?’
‘Nope. I mean, obviously at some point eighteen years ago I did, but he opted out of the whole … scenario,’ I say, gesturing in the air in an attempt to encompass the general concepts of responsibility and fatherhood. ‘I’ve never met him and I don’t need to. My mum met him when she was travelling before going to university to become a vet. And that’s what she did, even though she had two tiny babies to look after.’
‘Wow … your mum sounds amazing. But also – two?’
‘I have a sister, too. Except she’s my twin sister.’
‘That’s really cool!’ Cal says, and sounds like he means it. ‘I bet she’s not as pretty as you, though,’ he continues, which makes me want to laugh out loud. I manage to suppress that instinct.
‘Oh, I assure you she is. I’ve spent my whole life being made very aware that Daisy is the pretty twin and I’m the dud. But it’s OK, I’m at peace with it,’ I say, dusting my hands off on my lap so I can press my hands together in mock prayer and close my eyes.
‘Hey …’ Cal says, putting his hand on my arm. I open my eyes and see that he looks genuinely pained. ‘I don’t love you talking like that about yourself …’
‘I was mostly joking,’ I say, even though I actually wasn’t. It doesn’t matter how good I am, how good I feel on my own, the world wants me to know that I can’t compete when I’m standing next to Daisy.
Cal moves his hand to my face and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. The setting sun is glinting off his bright blue eyes, making them sparkle like the sea in front of us. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, very, very handsome indeed. And I am possessed by the strong feeling that this very, very handsome guy is about to kiss me.
‘Is it cool if I …’ Cal begins.
‘Yeah,’ I say, nodding. So he kisses me. And it obliterates every drunken party snog, every pointless crush, and every disappointing and underwhelming kiss I’ve ever had. It’s so good that I don’t know how to believe it’s real.
As we’re walking back from the pier towards the high street, a guy crosses our path. He looks kind of dishevelled, possibly homeless, and is carrying a big backpack.
‘Alright, Cal!’ he says, to my great surprise.
‘Alright, Steve!’ Cal replies brightly before the man keeps walking.
‘Friend of yours?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, sort of …’ he replies, shiftily. ‘When it’s quiet at work and my manager isn’t around I let homeless people sit in the foyer. A few people sleep behind the cinema anyway, so what’s the difference to me whether they’re inside or outside, right? I mean, other than that I can do something to make their day a bit less shitty.’
‘Oh …’ I say, smiling. ‘That’s really nice, actually.’ I’m embarrassed of the drily ironic tone I used when I asked if the guy was his friend. Cal’s a better person than I am.
‘I try to make myself useful where I can, you know?’ he says casually.
‘How come you chose the cinema?’
‘Well, it was partly because they were advertising the job and I needed money, but also because I genuinely love films.’
‘What films?’ I ask.
‘I know it sounds weird but I’m really not that fussy – I’ll watch anything.’
‘Anything?’ I repeat, incredulous.
‘Yeah … old MGM musicals, blockbusters that are just released, blaxploitation films, noirs, romcoms – I’m easy!’ Cal says, cheerily. ‘Oh, the only thing I don’t like is realistic violence or gore.’ He shudders at the very thought.
‘So you could watch a giant crocodile chomp a guy in half but you couldn’t watch … say …’ I cast about, trying to think of an example.
‘You know the Tom Hanks film Castaway, right?’
‘Oh sure, you mean the bit where he has to take his own tooth out?’ I turn my nose up.
‘Not even! I always think of that bit where he cuts his foot on a rock! I feel like that gives you a good indication of my tolerance for gore,’ he says, grimacing.
‘Wow!’ I laugh. ‘It’s not like it’s a bad thing, though.’ I’m thinking of the boys Daisy has gone out with who would literally rather die than admit to being scared or disgusted or horrified, or even admit that they feel anything at all.
‘I guess not.’ He smiles. A very, very good smile.
We keep strolling through the streets of the town, past the little candy-coloured terraces around the seafront, down the high street with its array of shops that haven’t been done up in years and past the old-fashioned ice-cream parlour (Palmer’s Ices’ biggest rival). The papered-over windows of the old Bonner’s department store are staring at us like two blank eyes. The dead shop has become so much a part of the town’s scenery that I had barely noticed it for years, but now it looms over us like an accusation. I shiver in the warm night.
‘I wonder what this town was like in the good old days,’ says Cal, catching me looking at the department store. It’s only in that moment, seeing Weston Bay through his eyes, that I realize quite how much it’s changed. It’s like it’s all happened without me noticing. I suppose it’s been happening for years. One shop closing down, then another; sometimes something appears in their place, sometimes it doesn’t. It’s a slow process. ‘Probably wouldn’t have been half as cute without you, though,’ he adds, slipping his hand into mine as we walk.
Finally we stop, ready to part ways, except we’re clearly not ready at all. Cal drops my hand and holds me by my waist, looking at me at arm’s length. I let out a nervous giggle. But I feel emboldened, somehow, and I tip up onto my toes and kiss him hard on the mouth like I’ll never get the chance to again. Like I’m in control of my life. Like I’m happening to life, not life happening to me. It’s play-acting, but it works. My hand on his shoulder, his holding my face, I realize we are in the positions of the lovers in Francesco Hayez’s beautiful painting ‘The Kiss’, something I’ve looked at over and over, trying to absorb the passion and the urgency.
As I’m walking home, I finally, truly, believe that I have to tell Daisy about Cal. It’s just a question of when. And how.