fluttering in the still air.
‘You too,’ he replies, pulling back his shoulders and running like a man.
On Sunday morning Luke is woken by his alarm at eight, set so that he can drive up to the holiday camp at Sunshine Bay for an early shift. The sound of Kitty’s off-tune singing rouses him again as he drifts back into sleep, and he gets up and dressed, paying particular attention to his hair, pinching a squirt of Dad’s Bacchus aftershave on his way out. Until the school term ends, Samantha is only working weekends and the odd afternoon, like him, so there’s a good chance they’ll be put together again. He thinks about Len, and what he’d say if he knew he was spending his days with Sam; he’d hate it. God only knows what she sees in Len. He’s passingly good-looking, a bit like a grubby David Essex, but that illusion soon disappears, the minute he opens his mouth. All that glue-sniffing beneath the pier must have addled his brain over the years, just as it did his brother’s.
As it turns out, the schedules have all been drawn up for the next two weeks, and Samantha, Gordon and Lukeare teamed up for the same shifts. Today they’re on the older chalets towards the edges of the camp, and, after Luke’s initial awkwardness around Sam, they soon start to relax and chat more easily while they work. Gordon meanders about the bedrooms, stripping off the bedlinen and showing off his encyclopaedic knowledge of the music charts. Luke knows he should find him irritating, with his square appearance and over-familiar chitchat, but somehow he doesn’t. Gordon entertains Samantha no end, and it’s a good feeling to be with them, working, earning money, having a laugh.
‘Of course, “Fernando” is the one to beat,’ Gordon says, as they get to work on their third chalet. ‘Number one for four weeks on the trot. But it’s no wonder really. It’s classic pop. I love Abba, don’t you, Lukey?’
Luke stops sweeping, looks up from his broom and shakes his head slowly, looking at Gordon like he’s mad.
Gordon splutters, throwing his arms up theatrically, disturbing the dusty shards of window light. ‘What? You have to be joking! Why not?’
‘Because they’re, hmm, let me think… shit.’
Samantha hoots with laughter, appearing from the bathroom in her rubber gloves. She brought them from home, saying her mother insisted when she heard that they’d be cleaning other people’s loos. Her face glows beneath a light sheen of perspiration.
Gordon sits heavily on one of the twin beds, looking astonished. ‘I have never – I mean never – met anyone who doesn’t love Abba.’ He smiles at Sam and pokes a finger in Luke’s direction. ‘You’re going to be a challenge, young Luke.’
‘Oi. Don’t call me “young” Luke. Just “Luke” will do fine, thanks.’
Gordon sniggers and swings his feet up coyly, putting his hands behind his head while he earnestly studies the other two, Luke with his broom, Samantha in her pink gloves.‘Good golly, Miss Molly,’ he sighs, forming a square with his fingers to frame them in his view. ‘Wouldn’t you two make the most fabulous couple?’
At the end of their shift Luke returns the cleaning trolley to Housekeeping, before heading back to meet the others in an out-of-action chalet they discovered on their walkabout at lunchtime. The lock is rusted and broken, and there’s no end of maintenance work needed to bring the rooms back up to use, but it’s still furnished, with a good view across the lawn towards the Suncoats’ accommodation block. When Luke arrives, Samantha and Gordon are already there, each reclining on one of the twin beds amidst a fog of fragrant smoke. The windows are all nailed shut and the chalet has a humid, damp odour which reminds Luke of the salt-soaked panels of the beach huts on Sandown seafront, when the holidaymakers have all gone home.
‘Lukester,’ Gordon drawls as Luke eases the door closed behind him. His eye squints as he
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