Out of Towners by Dan Tunstall

Author:Dan Tunstall
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781907869402
Publisher: Five Leaves
Published: 2011-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

nine

The bit of beach nearest the bandstand is heaving, so we climb over the groyne to the next stretch of stones. With me and Steph out front, we head for a big patch of open space right in the middle. There’s plenty of room for all seven of us to spread out for some hardcore sun-worship.

George rummages in his bag for our towels and tosses them to us. I notice that Gemma’s doing the same thing for the girls. Last night I had her down as George in a skirt. I was right.

Gemma’s bag is huge. The girls have come better prepared than us. They’ve not only got towels, they’ve got thin bamboo mats to lie on, little bolster pillows, loads of bottled drinks and enough sun tan cream to keep them going for months.

It’s not long before we’ve all got ourselves sorted. There’s a long row of us. Me, Steph, Gemma, George, Robbie, Dylan and Nikita. Towels have been smoothed out, sharp stones have been removed and we’re almost ready for the burn. I take off my shoes and socks then, a bit self-consciously, pull my T-shirt up over my head. My physique isn’t much in comparison with Dylan’s, but I reckon Steph looks for something more in a bloke than big biceps. The thing is, she’s peering at me and shaking her head.

I sit upright, pulling my stomach in.

“How long have you been in the sun today?” Steph asks.

“Dunno. Couple of hours I suppose.”

“I bet you haven’t had sunscreen on have you?”

“Er, no,” I say.

Steph shakes her head again.

“Typical lad. You’re going bright pink.”

I pull a face. I was just laughing about those Scousers being sunburnt.

“Here,” Steph says. “Put this on.”

She passes me some Factor 15. I squirt a bit into my hand and rub it across my chest, my stomach and the front of my legs. It smells nice. Like coconut. I hand the bottle back.

“You need to put it all over,” she says. “Lie on your front and I’ll cover the rest of you up.”

I can’t believe my luck. I do as she says, fighting against the urge to let a stupid grin spread across my face as I feel her kneading my shoulder blades and moving in circles on her way down to the top of my shorts.

“All done,” she says eventually.

I roll over.

“Thanks,” I say.

Steph starts taking off her shirt and shorts. I try not to stare but it’s difficult. She looks amazing. Nikita and Gemma look good too, Nikita in a green tankini and Gemma in one of those tan-through swimsuits like my mum wears, but Steph’s something else. She’s in a red bikini with white polkadots. Her skin is golden, her legs are smooth and toned. She slaps sun cream across her front, gently working it in, then she lies down face first on her towel.

“Right,” she says matter-of-factly. “I need my back doing.”

My heart doesn’t so much leap, as jump right out of my chest and bounce off into the centre of Whitbourne.

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