Amanda Jennings - The Cliff House

‘Excellent. Max thinks he’s God’s gift to barbecuing, so I apologise in advance for any weirdness. And bring your swimming costume. I’m not sure your bra and knickers are appropriate.’

She laughed and a prickling heat swept over my neck and cheeks as I relived hauling myself out of the pool in my translucent underwear while she looked on, clothed and beautiful.

‘Come as soon as you can, will you? I wasn’t lying when I said I was dying of boredom. I have no idea how you exist down here. God , I miss London.’

The beeps signalling the end of my ten pence began to chirrup. ‘Okay. I’m walking, but I’ll leave now.’

‘When you get here we—’

The line clicked dead so I missed the end of her sentence.

Despite being delirious with happiness, the claustrophobic atmosphere in our dark cramped house closed in around me in an instant. I hated it. There used to be a time when this house felt like the safest place in the world. When the air rang with laughter not devastated silence. It had been a place of bedtime stories and playing Snakes and Ladders in front of the fire. Now it was cold and unwelcoming, any joy snuffed out by loss and worry.

My mother stepped out of the kitchen as I came in. She held a packet of Jaffa Cakes. ‘Want one?’

‘Jaffa Cakes? What are we celebrating?’

‘My extra hours.’

‘Maybe later,’ I said, as casually as I could manage. ‘I’m going to the Davenports’ for a barbecue supper.’

‘A what?’

‘Supper.’

‘Supper?’ Her face clouded in confusion again.

‘Tea. A barbecue tea. Edie asked me. That was what was in the letter. I checked. Just now on the phone.’ Saying the words aloud made it all seem even more thrilling and I beamed. ‘She said bring a swimsuit.’

A look crossed my mother’s face which I couldn’t read. ‘Why?’

‘For a swim.’

‘No, I mean why’s she asked you for tea?’

‘Supper not tea. And I already told you. We met yesterday and she likes me.’

My mother shook her head. Her brow knotted. ‘She likes you?’

The way she kept repeating everything I said whilst looking so bloody suspicious made me want to scream, but I took a breath and kept my voice level. ‘It is possible for people to like me, you know.’

‘I know. I’m not saying… It’s just…’

My irritation boiled over like a forgotten milk pan. ‘ What ?’

‘Well, they’re… I don’t know. It’s…’

‘It’s what ?’

‘They’re different. To us.’

‘What are you talking about? They’re not royalty.’

‘They might as well be when it comes to the likes of you and me.’ She sighed and rested her hand on her forehead. ‘Look, he’s rich and famous, in and out of the papers, and they’ve got so much money.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything anymore. Things aren’t like they used to be. People aren’t so stuck in their places.’

‘I’m their cleaner .’ My mother looked down at her hands and regarded them as if she wished they weren’t her own. ‘I’m not sure about it.’

‘Edie knows what you do and she doesn’t care. So why should we?’ I crossed my arms and jutted a hip out.

She sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. She’s bound to be bored being an only child in that big empty house. I can see why she’d want to spend time with someone her own age. But be careful, okay? I’m not sure about any of them, if I’m honest. Especially Mrs Davenport.’ She put the packet of Jaffa Cakes on the side, then smiled at me. ‘I’ll save a couple for you. Granfer and Jago will be on those like weevils. Will you tell her – Mrs Davenport – that I’ll send your brother up in a bit? Remind her it’s about the painting. And say nice things about him, that he works hard and he’s suitable .’

When she said the word suitable she wrinkled her nose. I could tell she was implying something, that there was some sort of meaning hidden beneath the words she spoke, but I decided not to pick up on it. I didn’t have time. I had to find something to wear for a barbecue at The Cliff House. I wished more than anything I hadn’t already worn Mum’s rainbow dress. It would have been perfect, but I’d read a copy of Cosmopolitan in the doctor’s waiting room once which said you could never wear the same dress twice, so I’d have to search out something else.

CHAPTER NINE

Edie

July 1986

Edie walked through the double doors that led out to the terrace and pulled her cigarettes from her pocket. She removed one from the box and paused to light it, shielding it from the breeze with a cupped hand.

The lawn was soft underfoot and the flowers flanking it teemed with bees and butterflies which flew busily from one bloom to the next. The wind was too slight to dilute the dry heat. She leant over the railings and the sun beat down on her, reflecting off the surface of the sea so it shone like a polished silver salver. The gulls were so high they were no more than specks on the cloudless sky and their incessant screeching was barely audible. Edie watched the path and chain-smoked until Tamsyn finally appeared round the bend. As soon as she saw her she stubbed her cigarette out on the railing and dropped the end into the spiky thatch of gorse on the other side of the boundary.

Tamsyn hadn’t seen her and Edie noticed she was walking with a strange sense of purpose, like a soldier marching towards the front line. The wind was clearly stronger on the brow of the cliff and buffeted her hair in a glorious knot of red as if the strands were fighting their tethers in an attempt to escape. Edie waited for her to notice her, but she was too intent on striding the path, concentrating as if she were counting her steps.

When Tamsyn pushed open the gate, Edie called down to her.

The girl looked momentarily surprised but then her face cracked a shy smile and she waved, using her whole arm like a flag, a childish gesture which accentuated how immature she appeared in her denim shorts and shirt tied at the waist. The outfit could have been sexy and grown-up but the shorts were too baggy and there was something wrong in the way she’d knotted the shirt. Too innocent. More Jackie mag than Daisy Duke. Edie made a mental note to tell her that if she tied it tighter and higher to reveal more stomach, and undid an extra button to show some cleavage, she’d look a hundred times better.

‘My father hasn’t even lit the barbecue yet so I thought we could listen to some music in my room,’ she said as soon as Tamsyn was near enough.

Before Tamsyn could answer Edie turned to walk inside. She checked over her shoulder and was pleased to see the girl following like an obedient puppy.

‘What music do you like?’ Edie said as they walked up the stairs.

‘Anything.’

Tamsyn didn’t follow Edie into her room, but hovered at the doorway, her fingers twisting around each other, eyes glued to the floor. Her reticence was annoying and Edie wondered if she’d made a mistake and spending time with this girl was going to be more tedious than diverting. Where was the girl who’d broken into the house and stripped off to swim in their pool? That was the girl Edie liked. This timid version didn’t interest her at all. She picked up her Walkman from her bedside table and sat on her bed, crossing her feet at her ankles, deliberately not looking at the girl in the doorway.

‘I like your room,’ Tamsyn said then. ‘Mine’s tiny.’

Edie looked up. ‘Smaller than this?’

Tamsyn nodded. ‘Way smaller. Only room for my bed. I can’t even open the door properly.’

Edie shifted over on the bed. Tamsyn seemed to take the hint and walked over and sat down beside her. Edie pressed play on the Walkman, then pulled each of the foam headphones off in turn. She pressed one against her ear and offered the other to Tamsyn.