The Beach

1

‘It rains heavy here. Pounding down on the roof slates, rebounding on the pavement. Great, big, fat raindrops. I like it when it rains. I like the sound on my ceiling when I sleep at night. I like the water on my face. I like it when my hair sticks like a helmet around my face. But I don’t like the thunderstorms. The big crashes that shake me in my bed, the lightening which ruins houses; and lives. I read once about these kids, four of them. They were camping and a bolt hit their tent, went straight along the metal poles to earth on their bodies. All four died. Can you imagine that? One minute you’re telling ghost stories and eating sweets, the next you’re frying. There was nothing left of their tent but some raggy bits of canvas, the poles and of course their bodies. I’ve always been told not to shelter under trees, that a house or a car is best. But I don’t have a car and what if I’m far from home? Things like this scare me. What to do if I was in that situation? I’d know not to shelter in a tent that’s for sure.’2

“Brooke’s alright. Don’t you think?” 3

“Yeah, not exactly a great looker though. But neither are you Carl!” 4

Carl aimed a half-hearted swipe at his best mate then added,5

“She’s a bit dark though.”6

“Umm?” Russell asked.7

“You know. Distant. Sort of quirky.”8

Russell laughed and walked away.9

Brooke and Danny sat at their table in the canteen eating paper cups filled with soup. Danny broke off a piece of bread and dunked it into his soup.10

“Brooke,” he said with a mouthful of bread, “What are you doing this weekend?”11

She stirred a plastic spoon in her soup absentmindedly, “Nothing.”12

“I was thinking that we could go down to the beach. Just me and you?” 13

Brooke’s eyes widened. “Just me and you?” 14

Danny nodded, “It would be nice.” He stood up and pressed his lips against Brooke’s rosy cheek. “I’ll phone you tonight.”15

A million thoughts dashed through her head as Danny walked away. ‘Why did he want to go to the beach? Why just the two of them?  They were just friends, nothing more. They’d been friends since they were five. Surely he didn’t mean? Did he?’16

“Hey Bee,” a voice broke her thoughts. She glanced upwards and sighed.17

“Carl.”18

“Can I sit down?” He asked, brushing against her as he took his seat.19

“Feel free” Brooke muttered.20

Silence followed for what seemed an eternity. Carl was getting desperate for conversation. “What are you doing Saturday?”21

“I’m going to the beach.” She replied, regretting it as soon as the words were out of her mouth. 22

“Nice. Who with?” 23

“Danny”24

Carl’s heart dropped. “OK.”25

'For every birthday and Christmas I asked for a mobile phone. All kids do don’t they? But my mum would never give in. She’d always say they were dangerous. How are they dangerous? Are they gonna go for my throat in the middle of the night? She never laughs at my jokes like that. She just tuts at me and shakes her head like I’ve disappointed her some how.'26

The phone rang in the hall.27

“Shit. I’ll get it.” Brooke ran down the stairs two at a time, grabbing the phone on it’s sixth ring. “Hello?” She asked breathlessly.28

“What were you doing?” A familiar voice asked jokingly.29

Brooke started laughing. “I can come on Saturday, Dan.”30

“Good. Bring the tent” He said and hung up.31

Chuckling Brooke climbed the stairs, locking herself in her room again. Behind closed doors she rooted in her cupboard and found her two-man tent all wrapped up, still sealed from her birthday. ‘I hope Danny knows how to put this damn thing up.’32

“Listen shit face. It’s not funny. I need that bastard tent and I need you to come with me. If you laugh one more time I swear I’ll kick your head in. A laugh rang in Carl’s ears. “For f...”33

“OK, OK. Jesus, man. One tent coming your way. Do you want marsh mellows and a Scooby van too?”34

“Russell…” Carl warned. Followed by more hyena hysterical laughter.35

‘I always thought we were so lucky. I mean not many people have a beach just up the road from them. But we have one that’s so quiet, none of the locals seems to know it’s there, never mind the tourists! It’s so tranquil in the summer. The sun on your face and the sea on your toes. Beats any Caribbean island! When I was younger my dad would take some friends and me down to the beach, in a sheltered bit and light a barbecue. We’d have everything, burgers, hotdogs, steaks, all the buns and sauces. We had some amazing lazy summer days there. But then he died and so did the barbecues. Even the sun was grieving that summer.’36

“Brooke. Are you even holding that pole still?”37

“Yes. I’ve been holding it still for the last half an hour. Will you get a move on, there’ll be no day left if you don’t get it up.”38

“Hold the fucking pole still then.”39

“I am!” 40

“Well hold it stiller.”41

“Jesus Danny!” Brooke threw the pole down on the sand and walked away.42

“Brooke. Brooke!” He called after. “Bloody women.”43

Brooke sat down in the sand dunes, feeling the sand squash between her toes she sighed. She could already feel her anger at Danny fading away. She put her head back to face the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the heat on her face and hear the waves in her ears. 44

She must have fallen asleep because when she opened her eyes the sun was much lower. Shaking off the drowsy feeling Brooke realised what it was that had woken her, the clattering of metal poles and swearing. ‘Surely Danny isn’t still putting up that tent,’ she thought. Pulling herself to her feet she padded along the sand following her footprints back to where she’d left Danny earlier. ‘Well he’s managed to put that tent up,’ she thought, relieved. Then she turned the corner, ‘And the tent’s bred.’ 45

“What’s going on?” Brooke called. A sandy haired boy bent over the second tent was measuring pieces of poles against one another. He looked up. 46

“Shit. What are you doing here Russell?” She asked bewildered.47

“Carl.” Was his monosyllabic answer.48

“Shit,” Brooke said again. “Danny?”49

“Yeah?” 50

“Get out here now.” She demanded.51

“What’s up babe?”52

“Don’t babe me you arsehole. Why did you invite dick head and bigger dick head?”53

“I heard that,” muttered Russell.54

“Well?” She repeated more defiantly. 55

“I didn’t Bee.” 56

“Agggh!” She turned to walk away.57

“Don’t storm off again Brooke. You wasted all our afternoon sulking. Try to pretend they’re not there.” Danny pleaded with her.58

“Hmph”59

'It’s strange how when you’re in a group of friends or there are a couple of you there’s always some sort of leader. One that knows everything, has experienced everything, someone you can and do look up to. It’s also strange how if that one person has a reputation as a slag or a violent bastard, the rest of the group get that reputation too.'60

A sticky arm wrapped around her shoulders. 61

“Hey.” Carl said.62

“Get off me.”63

Carl chuckled. “Have a beer.” He pulled out a bottle opener and popped the cap. He handed it to Brooke, then repeated the action for himself. He gestured his bottle to the sky. “Cheers.”64

“Cheers.” She answered politely.65

Russell came out of his tent and walked into Danny’s. They then disappeared together.66

“Eh up!” Carl said suggestively gesturing in Danny and Russell’s direction. Brooke tutted under her breath and took another mouthful of beer.67

About half an hour and five bottles of beer later Russell and Danny returned carrying armfuls of dried driftwood. They then set about piling them up to make a perfect base for a campfire. Opening four bottles of beer Carl lay back on the sand pulling Brooke down by his side. As the sun lowered in the sky Russell lit the fire to keep a warming glow around their tents. 68

'I’ve never been a lover of alcohol. Not had the stomach for it. I can drink it well enough, but I always seem to through up. I read somewhere once that if you mix beer and vodka, say, it’ll make you sick. But even if I stick to just beer my stomach still doesn’t seem to appreciate it. If you drink water that’s supposed to help too isn’t it? But for some reason when you’re knecking beers, water doesn’t cross your mind. Maybe it should. It should be instinct. People are killed by binge drinking aren’t they? I think I’ve read that somewhere. Or maybe that’s long term. I can’t remember.'69

Carl pressed a hand against Brooke’s breast. She didn’t move it. He looked down at her tanned delicate face. Her high cheek bones, small nose and her blue eyes. Those eyes. They reminded Carl of the sea. When she smiled they danced, when she was angry they turned darker, stormier, but most of the time they were pale blue, still and calm. Beautiful. His eyes moved down to her lips, slightly open. He pressed his own against them and she greeted them warmly. Responding to the gentle brush of his mouth and softness of his tongue. She sighed contentedly. 70

On hearing Brooke’s sigh Russell looked up, “Jesus.” He said. He got up and crawled into his tent. The movement of Russell made Danny open his eyes; he turned his head to look at Brooke and Carl. He tried to focus on the two silhouettes in the firelight. The figures began to become clearer to his straining eyes. Carl’s hands, his mouth, his body all pressed against another body and a mouth. Brooke. Danny closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping it was the beer. It wasn’t. “Fucking arsehole.” Danny said. 71

Carl looked up and snorted, stifling a laugh. “The best man won.”72

'It’s not easy being a teenager I suppose. All the girls want good-looking boyfriends and the boys want fit girlfriends. Doesn’t always work out like that though does it? The kids that aren’t great looking, well, what do we do? We get to sit and listen to our mates boast about how fantastic sex is. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never get to see what it’s like.'73

Rain belting down on the canvas roof woke Danny at around 2am. It took him a second to realise what it was. He rolled over to see if Brooke was ok. She wasn’t there. ‘Thick bitch,’ he thought, ‘if she wants to spend all night shagging that wanker in the rain...’ His thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash of thunder. “Brooke.” He called. ‘I’d better find her, can’t leave her outside in a thunderstorm.’74

Crawling out of his tent Danny was faced with a wall of rain, soaking his dark hair in seconds. Strands of course hair clung to his face covering his eyes, brushing them aside he blindly called to Brooke. 75

“Brooke. Brooke. Brooke!” He shouted, each time he called he could hear the desperation in his voice increase.76

“Danny?” 77

Hearing her soft voice over the sound of the rain he stumbled in her direction. “Shit!” He nearly screamed on seeing her. Brooke was lying centi-metres away from Carl. Her skin was covered with a blanket of raindrops, her skirt hitched around her waist. “Brooke come on.” 78

“Come where?” She asked in a drunken stupor.79

Closing his eyes Danny breathed slowly. He opened them again. Lying between her small figure and Carl was a discarded condom, on seeing it Danny felt a surge of anger. Standing tall he strode over to Carl, “Oi, fucking arsehole. Get up off your fucking…” Danny screamed.80

“Brooke get up.” He shouted desperately.81

“Why? I’m comfy.”82

“Brooke for fuck sake. Get up. Get up now!”83

She looked at him shocked, “What’s the matter Danny boy?”84

“Get up Brooke.” He turned towards the tents. “Russ! Russell! Brooke get the fuck up” She started to giggle. 85

‘Lightening doesn’t strike the same place twice.’ Danny muttered.86

The heavens opened wider. Danny saw so much light for that one second.87

“Brooke!” He started to cry. He started to walk backwards, then he ran.88

‘I wonder what it’s like to get hit by lightening. I wonder what it’s like to die. Do you see bright lights? Or is the only light you see the light from the lightening?' 89

PC Dawson reached over and clicked the tape off. “Sign here Russell.”90