looked like something from a honeymoon brochure, with all the fairy lights strung up in the palm trees and the white cloth on the table. Essentially, though, we were still in a garden centre. I’d worn an actual dress and shaved my actual legs to be taken to a place that sold worm poo and weed killer.
‘Of course I remember,’ I lied. ‘This is nice. Thanks.’
He folded his arms. ‘I could get quite offended, you know.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t have a Scooby, do you?’
‘Ummmm, well… I’m pretty sure it’s not my birthday. And you’ve just had your birthday, so that must mean that it’s…’ I scanned my brain for something, anything. What did 1 August mean? But I had nothing. Max looked so disappointed it was almost painful.
And then I got it. It was the synthetic strawberry smell of the shakes that did it.
Our first proper date, five years ago, when I was twelve and he was nearly thirteen and we realised we liked each other more than as the best friends we’d been since primary school. It had been here, in the café, supervised by our mums on another table. We’d had teacakes and strawberry milkshakes, and Max paid for it with his own money from his Pokemon wallet, even though his dad owned the store. Then we had our first proper kiss, inside one of the sheds, while the mums went to look at geraniums. On the way out, Max had held my hand.
My whole body flashed over with goosebumps. ‘Oh God. I’m so sorry!’
‘It’s all right.’ He shrugged. ‘I wanted to do something without my parents or your dad being around. Something for us.’ He pulled out a chair for me and sat down opposite. ‘So I thought we could come here when no one else was around, hang out and have teacakes and milkshakes, just like then. Well, I could, anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
Like a sadistic magician, Max whipped away my buttery teacake and creamy shake, replacing them with a bowl of freshly chopped fruit and an ice-cold bottle of Evian.
‘I figured you’d be on low cal till breakfast. There’s no orange or lemon, don’t worry.’
I smiled, but my heart sank. My summer training plan meant I was on a strict low-carb low-fat diet. ‘Oh, goodie.’ It was sweet that he’d remembered to leave out the citrus, though. Only Max would know to do that.
‘Happy anniversary, Ella Bella Boodles,’ he said, leaning across to kiss me.
‘Happy anniversary, Max,’ I said.
We tucked in by the light of a salted caramel Yankee Candle. The fruit was freezing, and burst against my sensitive teeth like I was crushing gemstones. It was weird, being there when no one else was around. Normally when me and Max met for lunch there’d be loads of shuffling grannies with walking sticks, or kids on the next table having food fights or pasting stickers all over the undersides of their chairs. Tonight, but for the trickle of a water feature somewhere, the place was silent.
Outside, the night had coloured everything dangerous. Through the large glass windows, the looming mass of Brynstan Hill was just visible. They called our town Volcano Town. Apparently, in Old English, Brynstan meant ‘brimstone’ – that biblical ‘hell hath no fury’ stuff. That was the only exciting thing about this little place – the fact that the huge green hill we lived around could spew out molten lava any old time, and blow all the sheep and Iron Age remains to bits. At Easter they put three crosses on it. In November, they held a huge bonfire on the top with fireworks – from afar, it looked like an eruption. I liked the night. It was the only time of day I didn’t have to stare at the bloody thing.
‘Did I tell you Dad’s bought a new car?’ said Max, around a gobful of teacake.
I winced as I bit down on a freezing chunk of melon. ‘Another one?’
‘Limited edition Porsche 911 Turbo S. Over a hundred and forty grand. Grey leather seats.’
‘Grim.’
‘No, it’s sweet. The ride on it is unbelievable. Top speed’s, like, two hundred miles an hour. Nought to sixty in three seconds. It’s, like, one of the fastest cars in the world.’
‘Like one of the fastest or actually one of the fastest?’
‘One of the fastest,’ he said, his face alive with joy.
I chomped down on an apple chunk. ‘Don’t say “like” then. If it’s one of the fastest, say it’s one of the fastest.’
‘All right, all right, easy, Tiger.’
‘What’s the point of a car that fast anyway? Can’t drive it anywhere at that speed. It’s ridic.’
‘Why are you so snippy?’
‘I’m not snippy. It winds me up, that’s all. Your dad spends money like it’s going out of fashion, and my dad reuses tin foil.’
I hadn’t realised how much my anger levels had risen in the last five minutes. Max was always the one who pointed out my potential bitchplosions; like a scientist keeping an eye on the heat levels inside the crater. But Neil – his dad – always had that effect on me. Everywhere he went in the town he was treated like royalty, all blinding smiles and two-handed handshakes, but to me he was a show-off who stank of aftershave and wore too much gold.
‘Dad’s earned it, Ells. You can’t say he hasn’t.’
‘How many new cars is that this year?’
‘Only three,’ he said. ‘It’s being delivered from Germany in a couple of weeks. Oh yeah, Mum asked me to ask you to come over for lunch tomorrow.’
‘Bit late notice, isn’t it?’
‘You haven’t got anything on, have you?’
‘Yes, I have. Training.’
‘You don’t train at weekends.’
‘Summer regime.’
‘What about next Sunday then?’
‘I can’t, Max. I can’t mess Pete about.’
He closed up. I could tell he was pissed.
‘Maybe the weekend after next?’ I suggested, more to cheer him up than anything.
‘Yeah, yeah. I won’t hold my breath. It’s not haunted, you know. I know you said it freaks you out, but Jess isn’t there, I promise.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ I felt bad about lying to him about that.
‘I wish she did haunt it,’ he said, a pink line of milkshake framing his top lip.
‘Funny thing to wish,’ I said, still feeling awful. I reached out to thumb away the mark from his mouth.
‘I know. Sometimes you just need someone to talk to who’s not your parents, don’t you? Like a big sister.’
I
