Chapter 31

‘I can’t possibly come and meet your dad,’ said Fred, cringing. ‘Men are very protective about their daughters. He might poke my eyes out with a gigantic paintbrush or something.’

‘What I’ll do,’ said Jess, ‘is go home and wait till he’s woken up. If I storm in there and wake him up, he might be a bit grouchy. I’ll just kind of gently break the news that I’ve got a boyfriend.’

‘Is that what I am?’ said Fred, looking appalled. ‘Dear me! I had only presumed to think of myself as your minder.’

‘You couldn’t mind a chihuahua!’ laughed Jess. ‘Anyway, I’ll see how he reacts to that, then I’ll just tell him the truth – that you’ve come down on a surprise visit.’

‘I’ll go down to the beach, then,’ said Fred, getting up and pulling on his backpack. ‘Down there. I’ll just lie around in the sand hoping to be spotted by a ditzy blonde clothed from head to toe in rubber.’

‘I hate you!’ Jess grinned, giving Fred and his backpack a mighty hug.

‘And I assure you the feeling’s mutual,’ said Fred. ‘It’s been well worth coming all the way down here to find that you’re even more repulsive than I remember.’

They ran down the grassy slope and found a cosy place for Fred by some rocks. Jess looked around anxiously. She couldn’t actually see any ditzy blondes in rubber, but she was sure they were hiding in a crack in the rock and the minute she abandoned Fred, they would swarm out and kidnap him.

‘Wish me luck!’ she whispered, giving him a ferocious goodbye kiss. Fred reciprocated heartily. Boy, could that guy kiss. Jess felt as if her brain had been sucked out and replaced by fireworks.

‘I’ll run off now, and I won’t look back,’ she said. ‘In case this whole thing has been a fantasy.’

‘Please, God, let it be a fantasy,’ said Fred. ‘I don’t fancy sleeping on this beach all night.’

Jess ran off, back down Back Road West. Eventually it changed into Back Road East. She loved the names of the roads in St Ives. She loved everything about St Ives. And she loved it even more now Fred was in it. His blessed presence seemed to spread over the whole town, like the smell of chips, only even more delicious.

As she neared Dad’s house, however, Jess began to feel horribly nervous. What would her dad’s attitude be? She would have to be very, very careful and diplomatic and cautious in her approach to the subject.

As she opened the door – very quietly – and tiptoed in, she almost hoped her dad was still asleep. Though it would mean she had to wait longer to see Fred again, it would also give her more time to cook up a good story. Although, wait! It wasn’t a question of cooking up a story. Jess was so used to lying – especially recently – that it was a kind of instinctive response.

All she had to do was tell the truth. But somehow this felt much, much more dangerous than lying. It was terrifying. What if Dad went off on one, accused her of being a sly little tramp? He might lock her in her room with bread and water and summon the heavy brigade – i.e. Mum – to take her back home immediately in a prison van with a police escort.

As she closed the door, Jess heard the sound of a radio in the kitchen. Oh! He had woken up. She had to tell the truth right now. She entered the kitchen. Her dad was sitting at the table staring at a mug of tea. A stone cold mug of tea, untouched. Jess had a weird impression that it was the same tea he’d been holding when she’d left. This was odd, and unnerving.

‘Tea?’ he asked, rousing himself and switching off the radio. ‘In fact, fresh tea. Long overdue.’

‘No thanks,’ said Jess. She could not possibly face anything to eat or drink right now. ‘Did you have a good sleep?’

‘No, I didn’t even have a lie down, actually . . .’ said her dad. ‘I had some phone calls to make . . .’

He looked bit odd. A bit preoccupied. He was glancing round the room as if he had forgotten something. Then suddenly he turned to her and their eyes sort of locked together in a hypnotised stare. Jess’s legs began to shake. It was as if Dad knew, or something. Had he gone for a walk and seen her and Fred together on the Island? Deep inside, she blushed hotly at the thought.

But this was clearly the moment. She had to find courage from somewhere. She cleared her throat. Should she sit down? Her legs felt about to buckle anyway. Or should she stay standing up? Then she could get a flying start if it proved necessary to run away. In the end she sort of perched sideways on a chair.

‘Dad,’ she said, in a shaky voice. ‘I’m afraid I have a bit of a bombshell.’

His eyes widened. His head tilted. He said nothing. He looked seriously scared.

‘The fact is,’ Jess went on, ‘I have a confession to make. I’ve got a secret boyfriend. He’s dying to meet you. And he’s waiting, right now, down on the beach.’

Dad’s face went through about a hundred expressions: alarm, amusement, shock, embarrassment, mystery. It was like a mail-order catalogue from the Big Emotion Company. For a long, long minute he said nothing. Then his face settled to a particular look, and to Jess’s absolute astonishment, he seemed, well, sheepish.

‘OK, then,’ he said, at last. ‘If it’s bombshell time, I’ve got one, too. The fact is, I’ve also got a secret boyfriend. And he’s waiting, right now, down on the beach.’