Page 7 of The Big Dip in Crumbleton
PETE
Pete squirmed uncomfortably on his makeshift bed. He’d forgotten just how unforgiving the folded-down seats could be, even with the addition of the blankets he’d half-inched from the hut. Something kept jabbing him in the ribs every time he shifted position.
‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, turning over for what felt like the hundredth time. His elbow knocked against the side panel with a dull thud, sending a vibration through the entire vehicle.
The night had grown surprisingly chilly, and a cold draft was seeping in through one of the van’s many rust spots. It might be summer, but his thin blanket wasn’t nearly enough to keep him warm.
Pete briefly considered turning the engine on to run the heater, but somehow, that felt like cheating. Besides, it would only drain his battery – then he reallywouldbe stuck!
He pulled the blanket up to his chin and shuffled into what he hoped might be a more comfortable position, disturbing several creased surf magazines in the process. They slithered to the floor with a soft rustle, joining the growing pile of belongings that had nowhere proper to live in the cluttered van.
The smell was starting to get to him, too. Pete sniffed cautiously. There was the usual blend of salt water, surfboard wax, and half-dry wetsuit… but there was something else, too. Something he couldn’t quite place. Old takeaway, perhaps? Or possibly a half-eaten sandwich?
He wrinkled his nose. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t the clean, sea-fresh scent of his shepherd’s hut.
‘Should have spent less time sulking and more time cleaning,’ he grumbled to himself, the words hanging in the stale air.
Or maybe he should have just refused to leave at all!
Pete knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t quite shake his petty grudge against the mystery swimmer from Seabury—who was probably snuggled up in his comfy bed right now.
Suddenly, an image popped into his head—a floral swimming cap laid out on his bedside table, next to a pair of dentures floating in a glass of water. Pete snorted. As long as he didn’t end up having to fish crinkly grey hairs out of the drain for weeks to come.
‘Seriously?’ he huffed. ‘Grow up!’
He flopped onto his back and stared up at the dented ceiling, suddenly feeling bad about acting like a big baby. He had so much to be grateful for. Maybe he could make up for his mean thoughts in the morning by buying their guest a coffee in the café… or even a bacon sarnie.Theymight not know what he was apologising for, buthedefinitely would!
This slightly more charitable thought had a good effect on Pete, and at long last, he felt the tension in his muscles start to ease. This really wasn’tthatbad, was it? After all, how many people could fall out of bed in the morning and be on the beach in a matter of seconds?
As Pete’s eyelids started to grow heavy, the van’s metal roof seemed to magnify every sound, turning them into a seaside lullaby full of gentle waves, the soft whisper of sand shifting on the dunes, and the occasional call of a seabird.
Pete yawned and then snuggled down further under his blanket. He’d just drifted off when a gentle tapping made him jump. He struggled into a sitting position and cocked his head.
Had he just imagined it?
Then he heard it again – a timid knock against the van’s sliding door.
‘Hello?’ came a tentative voice. ‘Is anyone in there?’
Pete frowned, resting on one elbow. Who on earth would be knocking on his van at this time of night?
‘Hello?’ the voice came again. Female. Soft. Uncertain. ‘I don’t seem to have any hot water. The note said you could help.’
The swimmer, Pete realised with a jolt. He’d been thinking about her so much he’d managed to manifest her right outside the van!
Pete groaned inwardly. Of course… hewason call. His mum had name-checked him in that welcome note of hers. It was just his luck the comfy-bed-thief would have a problem on her very first night!
‘Just a minute,’ he called back, his voice rough with tiredness. ‘I’ll be right out.’
Thankfully, he’d gone to bed fully clothed – more to compensate for his lack of a decent duvet than out of any sense of decorum. The board shorts and faded t-shirt he’d been lounging in were decidedly scruffy, but they’d have to do.
Pete pushed aside the fallen magazines and a damp towel as he fumbled around for his flip-flops. Slipping them on, he raked a hand through his hair. It wouldn’t do much to improve his appearance, but it felt like he should makesomekind of effort before he greeted his parents’ guest!
He slid the van door open with a metallic screech and winced at the noise. The cool night air rushed in, carrying with it the tangy scent of the sea.
Pete blinked in surprise at the sight that met his eyes. He was face toalmostface with… well… quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on.
She was small – a good head shorter than him – with a mass of dark curls framing a heart-shaped face. In the silvery moonlight, her skin seemed to glow, pale and luminous against the darkness. Her eyes were wide and apologetic as she stared up at him.
