‘We’re not,’ I say, feeling my cheeks heat up.
Lilly looks shocked. ‘Oh, I’m sorry… I…’
‘It’s fine,’ chuckles Noah. ‘You’re not the first to ask.’
After Lilly goes back to the ice-cream parlour, I receive a text from Donna confirming numbers for her wedding reception. As I am waiving the hire fee, she has confirmed that they will pay for coffees and cupcakes. She’s kept it limited to close family and a few friends so I am sure Pam will be okay. I show Noah my extra cupcake order. ‘That’s not as big as I thought it would be. Are you going to email Pam?’
‘Yes, I will see what she says. Hopefully she’s had a chance to de-stress.’
On our way to the lifeguard building Lucas skips along the beach. The low evening sun makes Lucas’s shadow stretch across the sand which makes us both laugh. There are still a handful of hardy beachgoers sat on their towels watching the waves rush into the shore and a few have ventured into the sea. Lucas shouts before bending down to pick something up. He squeals with delight, and I let out a groan. He’s found someone’s black wallet in the sand. I hurry over as an excited look takes hold of his mischievous face.
‘Lucas, don’t open it.’
He’s about to peer inside it when I reach him. Placing my hands on the wallet I bend down in front of him. ‘Someone has lost this wallet. They’re sad. What shall we do?’
‘Sad?’ He casts me a thoughtful look and shoves a sand coated finger up his nose.
I bat away his finger and nod. ‘Without their wallet they can’t buy their boy an ice cream.’
His eyes grow wide, and his little mouth forms an O-shape. ‘We must get it to him, Mummy.’
I catch sight of an older man and woman searching their beach towels. Their panic-stricken voices drift over to us. ‘I hope someone hasn’t stolen it.’
‘Lucas, why don’t you go ask that couple whether this is their wallet?’
In a second, he grabs it and sprints over to the couple. ‘I found it,’ he announces with a huge smile. I am filled with pride as I see relief sweep over the couple’s faces. The man outstretches his hand and for a few seconds Lucas studies the wallet. ‘Give it to the man, Lucas,’ I murmur under my breath, praying he doesn’t run off with it. He’s staring at it and my heart has started to race. I am about to go over when Lucas reluctantly passes the wallet to the man. The couple make a fuss of Lucas and he comes back to me with an ear-to-ear smile. ‘I did it, Mummy.’
I plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Lucas, that was brilliant.’ He hugs me. ‘I’m a good boy now.’
Teenagers are milling around the entrance to the old lifeguard building. They are all clutching tins of paint and plastic bags full of brushes. The air is filled with laughter, excited chatter, and the clicks of mobile phones as several pose for selfies.
I would not normally consider decorating with Lucas. He’s not the most patient of little boys. After two minutes of being told to sit still he often decides to do his own thing. Everything he sticks his fingers into goes into his hair – food, fizzy drinks, glitter, half chewed sweets, toothpaste, and the contents of his nose. He also struggles with the phrase ‘Don’t touch’.
Looking around, I remember waiting for youth club to start. We’d all huddle on the wall. Noah’s arms would be around my waist pulling me close and Frankie would be making everyone giggle with his rude jokes. I spot Noah sat on the low wall with the tins of paint from The Little Love Café.
My heart is banging against my ribcage and my mouth is dry as he spots us. ‘Hi, Noah. Lucas, do you remember Noah from the other day? He works with me.’
Noah comes over and smiles at Lucas, who shoves his finger up his nose and grins.
‘This is a great idea, Alice,’ says Noah. ‘We can promote The Little Love Café to the younger generation.’
Lilly flings opens the doors. ‘Come on, everyone. It is time to get painting.’
Lucas and I have been painting for nine minutes. We haven’t painted much as he keeps touching the paint and trying to pick up the roller when I am not looking.
‘PUT THAT DOWN, LUCAS.’ For goodness’ sake – what is it about that phrase my son doesn’t understand?
Sweat is pouring off me and my shirt clings to my back. I’m covered in paint and so is Lucas. He’s been told off so many times all his stars will be removed from his reward chart when we get home, and he’s needed more toilet trips this evening than I have ever experienced.
‘Stand there and paint that little bit,’ I instruct, at the same time noticing the dark looks coming from the groups of teenagers. Before we all got started Lilly and her army of volunteers drew small square sections in pencil on each of the four walls. Each section was to be painted a different colour. ‘Think patchwork quilt,’ she instructed as we all got to work. Everyone placed all their tins of paint in the centre of the large room before getting to work.
The youth club room looks the same with the black rafters running across the ceiling and the sloping roof in the far corner. When we used to come here, there was a pool table at the far end, an old threadbare sofa which somehow sat about ten teenagers all squashed together, a pinball machine and a load of plastic chairs at the other end. The grey walls would be adorned with posters of local bands and festivals.
Beside me is a teenage girl with long blonde hair. She’s busy painting and at the same time glancing over at the tall boy who is painting opposite Lucas.
Our eyes meet as she goes back to painting after what feels like the millionth glance in the boy’s direction. She smiles, leans in and whispers, ‘He and I have been messaging each other for ages. I thought tonight we might take things to the next stage.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Turning my head, I catch the boy sneaking a look in our direction.
