They carried on, hot and thirsty by now and hoping that there would be somewhere to buy a drink. They hadn’t thought to bring anything, forgetting that unlike London, snacks might not be available on every corner, round the clock. After half an hour they reached the boundary of the school playing field and stopped for a moment to rest. At closer range they could see that the children weren’t as young as they’d first supposed, but were mostly teenagers, and were picking leaves from amongst the blades of grass and collecting them in pockets, paper bags or plastic lunchboxes. Those nearest the boundary stopped and glanced up at the newcomers, shielding their eyes against the glare of the sun. This movement triggered a Mexican wave effect around the field, with everyone gradually abandoning what they were doing and kneeling up to get a proper look. Daniel and Louie walked on hurriedly.
Another few minutes brought them to the village itself – a dozen or so houses around a triangular green formed by the convergence of three roads. In the middle of the green was a pond, patrolled by pristine white ducks, and there was outdoor seating – overspill from the café opposite – which was occupied by a group of teenagers drinking coffee and enjoying the last gasps of summer.
Daniel had the sensation of stepping out on stage as he and Louie made their self-conscious way across the green towards the café. Conversation at the tables fell silent as they passed, all eyes following their progress with frank but not unfriendly curiosity. The back of Daniel’s neck felt warm and prickly, as though stares of that intensity could actually generate their own heat.
“Do we look like aliens or something?” Louie hissed as they reached the safety of the pavement.
“I don’t know whether I feel like a celebrity or a freak,” Daniel muttered back, hooking Chet’s lead to a bollard and settling him down with a Bonio.
Inside the café was no better. All heads turned as Daniel and Louie hovered in the doorway, uncertain whether to sit and wait to be served or order from the counter. Fortunately the woman behind the till came to their rescue and beckoned them forward. “What can I get you?” she asked, smiling helpfully. There didn’t seem to be anything much on display, apart from a modest selection of filled rolls.
“A Diet Coke and a Tango, please,” said Daniel, bringing out a handful of change.
The woman sucked in her breath and shook her head as though Daniel had requested some rare and exotic cocktail. “I don’t think I’ve got any of that. Goodness me, Coca-Cola. That’s a blast from the past. No one’s asked me for one of those for a long time.”
Daniel and Louie glanced at each other. “Oh, er, well, Sprite, 7-Up, whatever?” Louie suggested.
Again, this drew a blank. Daniel began to wonder if this was a wind-up, a special way of letting strangers know they weren’t welcome, but the woman didn’t seem hostile. On the contrary she was full of apologies for not stocking what they were after. He glanced around to see what the others in the café were drinking: bottled water, black coffee and glasses of murky-looking lemon squash.
“Water?” Daniel suggested, uncomfortably aware that they were the focus of fascinated attention, and wanting only to get away as quickly as possible.
“Hold on,” said the woman, as if struck by inspiration. “There might be some of that stuff out the back.” Before they could protest, she clattered through a curtain of plastic beads and a moment later they could hear the distant sound of furniture removal, crates being dragged across the floor and bottles clanking. Minutes passed, Daniel and Louie’s discomfort increasing as whispered conversations struck up at the tables behind them, the words ‘new’ and ‘yesterday’ and ‘Brow’, clearly audible above the murmur.
Beside him he could sense Louie beginning to simmer. She couldn’t stand being stared at, whispered about, sniggered over. That sensation of walking into a room and it falling silent because everyone has just been bitching about you. He gave her neck a reassuring squeeze as she bristled.
“Here we are,” said a triumphant voice and the woman reappeared brandishing two dusty bottles of budget brand cola, their labels faded to pink. “Found them!” They were warm to the touch and didn’t look very appetising, but Daniel didn’t want to hurt her feelings by refusing. He held out a palm full of coins, but the woman waved it away. “I won’t charge you,” she said, “seeing as they’re a bit old.”
They mumbled their thanks and turned to leave, a dozen or more pairs of eyes boring into them with undisguised curiosity, as they threaded their way between the tables.
At the exit Louie stopped, suddenly made confident by the prospect of their departure. “Do you mind?” she addressed the room. “It is actually quite rude to stare.”
Daniel bundled her out of the door on to the pavement, sweating with embarrassment. “What did you want to go and do that for?” he demanded. “Now we’ll never be able to go back in there!”
“Like we want to go back to a café that only sells water!” Louie retorted. “Or flat, warm hundred-year-old Coke.” She blew the fluff off her bottle and opened the lid – it surrendered its last remaining bubble of gas with a faint sigh. “Oh, gross. I’m not drinking that,” she said, pouring it into the gutter. Immediately half a dozen wasps materialised from nowhere.
“She was only trying to be nice.”
“I don’t like being gawped at,” snapped Louie.
“Well, stop being so loud and lairy then,” Daniel hissed, bending down to untie Chet. He’d been brought a plastic dish of water and he was drinking noisily.
Daniel looked around for someone to thank, at which point one of the girls drinking coffee at the picnic tables detached herself from the group as if taking up a dare and sauntered over, chewing. She had blonde hair done up in plaits and was wearing a dazzling white shirt and shorts. She had blue eyes and peachy skin, and if she was wearing any make-up it was too subtle for Daniel to notice. She looked – the word leapt to his mind – clean.
“Hello,” she said, turning from him to Louie as if to share herself out evenly. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
“We’re new to here,” Daniel replied.
“I’m Ramsay Arkin,” said the girl, holding out a hand to shake.
Daniel tugged her hand with its neat oval fingernails, so different from Louie’s sore nibbled stumps which she was now doing her best to conceal.
“I live over there.” She pointed vaguely in the direction they’d come from. “We’re having a sort of end-of-the-holidays barbecue tomorrow night. Come if you want.”
“Who’s we?” asked Daniel.
“A bunch of us from school. That lot.” She indicated her friends on the green. “Plus a few others. We’ll just cook sausages and play volleyball on the beach. No big deal.”
“What beach?” Daniel asked, although he’d already decided he wouldn’t go.
“Joff Bay.”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know it.”
“Well, you were walking on it yesterday afternoon.” She bit her bottom lip to stop herself smiling at this admission.
“Oh.” Daniel was taken aback. He tried to remember whether he’d done anything embarrassing, apart from rooting around in a bin. “I never saw you.”
“I was up on the cliff with my sister.”
“I didn’t realise it was called Joff Bay. We only got here—”
“I know. You only got here yesterday. You’re from London, and you’re staying at The Brow.”
“You seem to know a lot about us,” Louie said, bridling. “Are we under surveillance?”
She gave a tinkly laugh, revealing teeth stained bright green. Daniel and Louie tried not to look startled. “Oh, it’s nothing