Summer of Secrets Read online

  ‘The rest of the bunch are in the garden, so come along now,’ Caitlin’s mother ordered, waving through the window at Caitlin’s father. ‘Get those steaks on the barbecue, Edward!’

  She bustled out through the back door and in one graceful move, Izzy was across the kitchen and smiling up at Jamie.

  ‘So, your car – the one you drive Caitlin to school in – it’s an MG Midget, isn’t it? Round about 1978?’

  ‘Seventy-nine,’ Jamie replied. ‘That’s amazing! I’ve never known a girl who could . . . I mean, are you keen on cars?’

  ‘Passionate about them!’ Caitlin could have sworn that Izzy’s eyelashes fluttered individually. ‘Especially Midgets – the coolest cars ever. When I pass my test, that’s the car I want. I’d die to go out in one.’

  ‘I guess that could be arranged,’ Jamie replied, smiling at Izzy.

  It occurred to Caitlin that she’d never seen her brother hold anyone’s gaze for so long.

  ‘You had this all planned, didn’t you?’ Caitlin demanded an hour later. ‘Especially Midgets . . . I’d die to go out in one . . . How subtle was that?’

  ‘So? Don’t you know anything about handling guys?’ Izzy retorted, peering in the mirror as she applied a third layer of mascara. ‘You have to find their weakness and then play it for all it’s worth.’

  ‘I thought,’ Caitlin said petulantly, picking a remnant of corn on the cob from her front teeth, ‘that you’d come to spend the day with me. Like, not.’

  ‘Oh, come on, don’t be like that,’ Izzy pleaded, ramming her sunspecs on to the top of her head and grabbing her straw bag. ‘It’ll be fun! And it’s not my fault Jamie’s car only seats two. Anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about – you get to go with Tom.’

  ‘But we’re supposed to be meeting up with Bianca and Sophie later and––’

  ‘We can still do that,’ Izzy said. ‘We’ll drag the guys along too. It’ll be cool.’

  She looked beseechingly at Caitlin. ‘You’re not really miffed, are you? I think Tom’s quite impressed by you, actually. Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if you two got it together, and me and Jamie became an item and––’

  ‘Hang on!’ Caitlin objected, rummaging in her drawer for some sun block. ‘I’ve only known the guy for an hour and besides, I’m not sure I even like him. You weren’t exactly flattering about him.’

  ‘That’s because he isn’t empathic to my persona,’ Izzy declared. ‘Whereas you, with your kind of naïve, unsophisticated approach to life . . .’

  ‘Oh, thanks . . .’

  ‘No, it’s a compliment,’ Izzy assured her. ‘You’re just Tom’s type. I was far too fiery and ambitious and – well, full-on, I guess. Besides, we’ve known one another since we were snotty little kids, and that kind of kills passion, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I guess,’ Caitlin said, nodding.

  ‘He’s OK, really. And the Porters are loaded, you know,’ Izzy babbled on. ‘I mean, seriously in the money. And they know just about everyone worth knowing.’

  She winked at Caitlin.

  ‘Besides, where’s the harm? It’s not like you’ve got a boyfriend, is it?’

  ‘How do you know?’ Caitlin burst out and then inwardly kicked herself for making it so obvious that Izzy was right.

  ‘If you had, you’d have talked about him,’ Izzy remarked. ‘And think about it – my party’s coming up and you don’t really want to be the only girl there without a guy, do you?’

  ‘You said Summer hasn’t got a boyfriend,’ Caitlin said quickly. ‘It won’t just be me.’

  ‘Summer won’t come,’ Izzy said. ‘I mean, I’ll invite her, but she’ll come up with some lame excuse. She always does. Mind you, if the rumours are true . . .’

  ‘Yeah, what about the rumours? You were going to tell me––’ Caitlin began.

  ‘Hey, you two – we were actually thinking of leaving today if it’s all the same to you!’

  Jamie thumped on Caitlin’s door and began to hum ‘Why are we waiting?’

  ‘Dead right – he needs to get started,’ Tom added, shouting up the stairs. ‘That old banger of his will take forever to get to the end of the street!’

  ‘Is he always this up himself?’ Caitlin demanded, picking up her camera and slinging it round her neck.

  ‘Oh, loosen up!’ Izzy snapped. ‘Just look on him as a bit of practice. From what I can see, you sure do need it.’

  Why, thought Caitlin to herself, as Tom threw the car round yet another bend at breakneck speed, can’t I be like Izzy? There she was, ahead of them in Jamie’s open-top Midget, her dark hair blowing out behind her like one of those shampoo adverts and her arm resting ever so lightly across the back of the driver’s seat. Whereas Caitlin’s hair was a mass of windswept tangles, she had grit in her left eye and she was already feeling nauseous, although whether this was caused by the recklessness of Tom’s driving or the content of his conversation, she couldn’t quite work out.

  ‘That vehicle of your brother’s is total crap, you know,’ he told her. ‘He really should take my advice and trade it in for something with a bit of power behind it.’

  And, ‘Honestly, if I hadn’t pitched up at that sailing club in Cairns and shown him the ropes, your brother would have made a total ass of himself on the reef.’

  And, just as she was about to open her mouth to defend Jamie, ‘But sorry, I’m going on and on about Jamie when really I should be telling you about me.’

  He was unreal, Caitlin thought, only half listening to an outpouring about his triumphs on land and sea during his gap year, his reason for opting not to go to uni – ‘Honestly, who needs it? It’s who you know, not what you know that counts’ – and his plans to take over his grandmother’s chain of antique shops when she retired – ‘Easy money – conning the Yanks into buying nineteenth-century tat.’

  What clicked her concentration back on to full beam was the sound of Izzy’s name.

  ‘I hope Jamie’s up to coping with Izzy – though somehow, I doubt it.’ For the first time, there was a serious note to Tom’s voice.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, don’t get me wrong – she’s really hot stuff and great fun and all that – but not the kind of girl I would have thought Jamie would fall for. I mean, he’s not exactly your way-out type and she’s a bit on the wild side – know what I mean?’

  ‘No, I don’t really,’ Caitlin admitted. ‘I mean, I’ve only known her for a few weeks. And anyway, Jamie hasn’t fallen for her, he’s just being friendly . . .’

  ‘Come off it – he’s besotted!’ Tom said, laughing. ‘Talks about her all the time. Anyway, why are we wasting time talking about them? Tell me about you. What floats your boat?’

  ‘Me?’ Caitlin replied, wincing slightly as the nearside wheel of the car clipped a pothole at the edge of the road. ‘Well, I like painting, photography––’

  Her words were drowned by a sustained blast of Tom’s car horn.

  ‘Move it, JM!’ he yelled, thumping the dashboard impatiently and tailgating Jamie’s car. ‘Foot on the accelerator, why don’t you?’

  ‘There’s a speed camera down here,’ Caitlin snapped, gripping the seat as Tom pulled into the fast lane and careered past the Midget. ‘Slow down – you’ll get zapped!’

  ‘They’re fakes,’ Tom replied. ‘Besides, I love playing traffic-camera roulette!’

  He waved at Jamie in the driving mirror and turned to Caitlin, clearly no longer interested in talking about her.

  ‘So, has Izzy planned her party yet?’

  ‘You know about that?’

  ‘Only that she’s bound to be having one,’ Tom said. ‘She does every year at the start of the summer holidays. All the Thorpe parties are quite something – her parents have an amazing one every New Year. Last year’s made it into Harpers and Queen.’

  ‘Really?’ Caitlin closed her eyes briefly, imagining herself, serene and stunning, smiling out of the pages of the country’s most upm
arket journal above a caption that read: Society newcomer, Caitlin Morland, eclipsed allcomers at the party held in honour of Isabella Thorpe––

  Her reverie came to an abrupt end as Tom slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt, threw the gear into reverse and backed hastily up the road on the hard shoulder, ignoring the rude gestures and blaring horns of other motorists.

  ‘Missed the turn,’ he said without a trace of remorse. ‘Damn it – now Jamie’s ahead of me and this road is useless for overtaking.’

  Thank God for that, thought Caitlin.

  ‘So where exactly are we going?’ she asked, realising that no one had actually informed her of their destination.

  ‘Barcombe Mills,’ Tom replied. ‘Izzy’s idea – boating on the river. Her and Jamie, you and me – good, eh?’

  He turned and grinned at her.

  ‘Give you and me time to get to know one another a whole lot better, won’t it? I mean – that’s OK, isn’t it?’

  Since his eyes were fixed on her face, and there was a tractor and trailer crossing the lane a hundred metres ahead of them, and since for the first time that afternoon, he sounded just a little unsure, Caitlin nodded swiftly and sighed with relief as Tom turned his attention back to the road.

  The guy was a bit of a pain, but he was a guy. And clearly he knew the right people. Maybe, just for a few weeks, he’d be an asset. Just to establish her as a goer in the eyes of her new friends – then she could shake him off. Just as soon as her reputation was well and truly established.

  ‘So?’ Izzy demanded, three hours later. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me?’

  ‘Ask you what?’ Caitlin sighed, turning the hot tap in the ladies’ loo at the Boatyard Café.

  ‘About me and Jamie!’ Izzy pressed her eagerly. ‘Go on, ask how we made out.’

  ‘How did you make out?’ she replied obediently.

  ‘Brilliantly!’ Izzy replied triumphantly. ‘I mean, I didn’t let him know that, of course – I played it dead cool from start to finish . . .’

  ‘Oh, sure – like I’m the Pope!’ Caitlin said with a laugh, peering critically in the mirror at her sunburnt nose. ‘Every time I saw you, you were positively salivating over him––’

  ‘I so was not!’ Izzy butted in. ‘I’m not like that . . .’

  ‘So when you stood up in the rowboat, shrieked and grasped his hand, and then held on to him for dear life for at least ten minutes . . .’

  ‘You saw that?’

  ‘I’ve got it on film,’ teased Caitlin, tapping her camera case. ‘Studies of a Serious Come-on I shall call it!’

  ‘It was only because my balance was affected by the bright sunlight,’ Izzy said.

  ‘Perhaps if you’d worn your sunspecs on your eyes rather than your head!’

  ‘You,’ said Izzy sighing, ‘have a lot to learn. Anyway, what about you and Tom?’

  Caitlin debated with herself for a moment before replying. If she told the truth – that the guy was so up himself that her strongest desire that afternoon had been to shove him headfirst into the weed-covered water and then photograph his slow demise – Izzy would spread the word that Caitlin Morland was a killjoy and no fun to have around. Besides, in between all the bravado, Tom had his serious moments – and those were quite endearing, in a surprising sort of way.

  ‘OK,’ she replied tentatively. ‘I mean, it was fun – but I’m still not sure he’s quite my type.’

  ‘And what is your type exactly? You’ve never talked much about the guys in your life.’

  That would take like all of two seconds, thought Caitlin. ‘They have to have passion,’ she began.

  ‘Now you’re talking,’ Izzy said excitedly. ‘Have you – well, you know. Done it?’

  ‘Not that sort of passion!’ Caitlin exploded, more from embarrassment than anger. ‘I mean, depth and emotional intelligence . . . and no, I haven’t – have you?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Izzy admitted. ‘But I live in hope. And I really think Jamie’s the one – he’s so divine . . .’

  ‘You,’ said Caitlin, blotting her lip-gloss with a tissue, ‘are seriously in need of a sanity check.’

  ‘But do you think he likes me?’

  ‘Izzy, my brother has just agreed to come with us to Mango Monkey’s, right? When there’s the Grand Prix on Sky TV? Like, that’s a really serious sacrifice in his book.’

  Izzy hugged Caitlin.

  ‘So, let’s go! Oh, isn’t being in love wonderful?’

  ‘One apple and mango. Anything else?’ The guy behind the bar at Mango Monkey’s zapped the top off the bottle and slid it towards Caitlin.

  ‘No, thanks,’ she said, shoving a couple of pound coins at him. ‘Keep the change.’

  ‘Change?’ he repeated in derisory tones. ‘You need to give me another eighty pence.’

  ‘That’s a rip-off!’ Caitlin exploded. ‘It’s only fruit juice.’

  ‘I guess you pay for the monkey swizzle stick!’

  Caitlin turned at the sound of a familiar voice, to see Summer Tilney clambering on to the neighbouring bar stool, wearing a gorgeous strappy pink sundress and looking decidedly jumpy.

  ‘Summer! What are you doing here?’ Caitlin gasped.

  ‘Same as the rest of you, I guess,’ she replied, gesturing across the room to where Izzy and Jamie were dancing and Bianca was chatting up two guys at the same time. ‘Last Saturday of term, this is where we all hang out. It’s tradition.’

  ‘I know, but Izzy said that you never joined in – she said you hated clubbing and . . .’

  ‘Despite what she may think to the contrary, Isabella Thorpe doesn’t have the inside track on everyone,’ Summer replied sharply, snapping her fingers at the barman. ‘White wine and soda, please.’

  ‘ID?’ he queried, eyeing her suspiciously.

  ‘Oh, stuff it, I’ll have an orange juice,’ she said. ‘I keep forgetting this isn’t Italy – over there I can drink Prosecco, Martini, whatever I like, and no one gives a toss.’

  ‘It must be so lovely,’ sighed Caitlin. ‘What’s it like – your house, I mean? Is it really romantic?’

  ‘Romantic?’ Summer frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘You know,’ Caitlin urged, ‘fountains in the gardens, frescoes on the walls, balconies overlooking cobbled courtyards . . .’

  ‘You sound like you’ve swallowed a guide book,’ teased Summer, breaking into a smile. ‘It’s lovely in a dilapidated sort of way – it’s on a hillside below the vineyard, overlooking the sea.’

  She smiled dreamily. ‘You can walk through olive groves down to the beach or up the hill through the terraces to the castle. The village is all twisty alleyways and crooked little shops. When I was little I used to think heaven must look like Monterosso,’ she said, laughing.

  ‘It sounds amazing,’ Caitlin breathed. ‘And are you going there when term ends?’

  ‘Yes – we––’

  At that moment, Summer’s mobile bleeped. She flipped open the cover, scanned the text message and then slammed it shut.

  ‘Right, I’m off,’ she said, sliding off the bar stool and grabbing her bag. ‘See you Monday.’

  ‘But you only just got here,’ Caitlin protested.

  ‘And now I’m leaving,’ Summer replied calmly. ‘It’s a free country.’

  ‘Hey, Summer – you made it!’ Bianca, finally abandoning the two guys, sashayed up to the bar. ‘This is like headline-making stuff – have you brought a guy? Or did you just come along to see Caitlin?’

  Caitlin could tell from the way Bianca glanced over her shoulder at Izzy, who was clinging to Jamie’s arm and heading their way, that this was a set-up job aimed at picking fun at Summer.

  ‘Passion fruit and orange, please,’ Bianca told the barman, and then turned to Caitlin. ‘So where’s Tom gone? You two were certainly going for it big time just now.’

  ‘We were not,’ Caitlin protested and then realised that she had swallowed the bait. ‘Anyway, he saw one of his mates and
he’s disappeared somewhere.’

  She glanced round the club and Summer followed her gaze.

  ‘Oh no! Shit!’ Summer gestured vaguely in the direction of the door, where a cluster of guys were about to enter the bar. ‘I don’t believe it. This is all I need. Look, if anyone asks, you haven’t seen me, OK? I mean it. Both of you.’

  She didn’t wait for an answer but darted across the darkened dance floor and disappeared in the direction of the ladies’ loo.

  ‘See – even talking about guys terrifies her,’ Izzy said, as Jamie tried to attract the barman’s attention. ‘You’d better watch out, Caitlin – I reckon she fancies you.’

  ‘Get real,’ Caitlin snapped. ‘That is so not true. And anyway, what if she is – well, like that? It’s no reason to make fun of her.’

  ‘Pardon me for breathing,’ said Izzy with a shrug. ‘Hey, Jamie, come on – it’s so hot in here. Let’s go outside with our drinks. Coming, Bianca?’

  Bianca shook her head.

  ‘I’ve some serious pulling to do,’ she replied, brushing her off with a gesture and turning to Caitlin.

  ‘Now tell me, which one do you think?’

  ‘Which what?’ Caitlin mumbled, watching as Summer disappeared from view. She’d gone from looking calm and serene to acting like a terrified kid. What was going on?

  ‘Which guy, silly,’ Bianca sighed, jerking her head in the direction of the two guys she had just abandoned. ‘Simon – that’s the dark-haired one with the earring, or Louis – he’s French, and so smooth it’s not true.’

  ‘Go for him, then,’ Caitlin told her. ‘Definitely. The French are so romantic . . . Did you know that French guys have more testosterone than any other race? I read it in Prego magazine.’

  ‘OK, so let’s put the theory to the test,’ said Bianca, laughing. ‘You come over and keep Simon occupied, right? Bring the drinks, and I’ll—’

  ‘I’m not going to chat up a total stranger!’ Caitlin protested.

  ‘Adopt that philosophy and you’d never meet anyone,’ Bianca retorted. ‘Besides, what with Sophie getting sick and letting me down, I’m relying on you.’