The Last Summer of Us by Maggie Harcourt

Author:Maggie Harcourt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Usborne Publishing Ltd
Published: 2015-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

sixteen

I’ve never liked the feel of sand in between my toes. Maybe it’s because, when I was little, most of the time said sand was estuary sand from Llansteffan or Pembrey. Muddy and damp, it clots between your toes and clings to them and refuses to come off. I’ve always wondered what it must be like to walk along one of those tropical beaches where the sand is as white as bone; fine enough to flow like water if you scoop it up into the palm of your hand and let it fall. And where there are coconut trees. I don’t even like coconuts, but they feel like they’re an integral part of the picture, so…

We aren’t likely to find many beaches matching that description around here and especially given the time we have is only “A couple of nights, maybe…” But this beach, this particular beach, is a good enough substitute. Well. It’s a beach and the sand’s not too muddy. So I’ll make an exception and take off my shoes as soon as we’re off the concrete slipway and onto the sand. Behind us, there are a couple of pubs, a tiny post office and the smallest souvenir shop you’ve ever seen – all of which are doing a roaring trade in (respectively) cold beer, postcards with dolphins on and inflatable dolphins. The pub nearest to the ramp is called – no prizes for guessing – The Dolphin.

Yes. This is where you come if you like dolphins. To my left you’ll note the board advertising the “dolphin watching” boat trips into the bay. To my right? The bay. Featuring a complete and total lack of dolphins.

I know.

Luckily, I can take or leave the dolphins.

“I hate sand,” says Steffan. He’s already managed to stick his foot into some kind of mini-dune, so his shoe’s full of it. He kicks his lower leg out with every step, trying to shake it all out – but the only thing he seems to be doing is making himself look like an idiot.

Even more so than usual.

Of course, Jared’s trailing behind, and I know even without checking exactly how he looks. Because it’s how he always looks. Movie-star Jared, weighed down by the consequences of someone else’s actions. If his dad hadn’t gone to prison, hadn’t mucked everything up, would Jared be different? Would he be like Simon and Rhodri and all the other boyos round here who think they’re something special? Or would he still be…Jared? Would he still be the one who hangs back, who keeps quiet until he has something to say? Is it the weight that makes him who he is, who he will be? Is he his father’s son in that, at least?

And if he is – if he was shaped by his father’s actions – what does that mean for me? What am I? What will I be, years down the line?

“Are we there yet?” Bloody Steffan.

“Oh, come on. At least let’s get round the cliff into the bay…”

“What for? It’s still all just sand, isn’t it?”

“I get it.

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