Page 13 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

Time to put a certain Pizza Girl out of his mind.

Chapter 7

‘Morning!’ Matt called, strolling in through the kitchen door in his sweat-stained running gear. Tall, broad, with shaggy mid-brown hair, he had recently qualified as a vet. Matt gulped down a glass of water, and then popped two slices of brown into the toaster. He turned to face Jack and then frowned, taking in the bruising.

‘Good night, was it?’ he asked ironically, and waited for his friend to answer. ‘A bit of a shiner you’ve got there, mate.’

Jack’s brow was throbbing even more than last night; perhaps he ought to take a couple of ibuprofens. He managed a slow, sore nod.

‘I thought you were meant to be serving the guests, not fighting with them.’

‘Yeah, well …’

‘Toast?’ Matt gave a smile, offering toast as a gesture of goodwill, guessing the time for quizzing his pal was perhaps not right now.

‘Cheers, yeah, chuck me in a slice …’ Jack sipped some of his coffee. ‘Umm, well I was just stepping in to help a friend …’ The word slipped out. She was hardly a friend really; they’d only recently met. But somehow, even though they hadn’t quite hit it off, he still felt some kind of warmth towards her. Hit it off, hah, even sore-headed as he was, he had to give a wry smile at that.

Lucy, he’d been thinking about her again this morning. Okay, and in the middle of the night, in fact. Her thoughtful dark-brown eyes. That long sweep of glossy chestnut hair. At the end of the evening, once she’d packed everything up – oh yes, the image had stuck in his mind – she’d pulled at that bun thing her hair was twirled up in, and let it all tumble down. And she’d come across, just before leaving. ‘Night, Jack. You feeling okay now?’ she’d asked, cautiously.

‘Yeah,’ he’d managed to answer, suddenly feeling awkward. ‘Yeah fine, thanks for helping out, uh, and see you around.’

‘Well, watch that eyebrow. And no more getting into any scrapes, hey.’ She’d shaken her head gently as she smiled.

She looked so much prettier when she smiled. Yet, he’d suddenly felt very much like a schoolboy who’d been told off.

‘Hah, no. Scout’s honour.’ Why on earth had he come out with that? He hadn’t even been a boy scout. That was his brother’s domain. Jack’d been too busy playing rugby and flirting with girls as a youth. Jack had stood, watching her open her truck door. ‘So … umm, when’s your next booking?’ he’d blurted out.

But she was already sat in her vehicle, slamming the door to a close, with the younger girl sat beside her; she hadn’t heard. Laughter rang out from a group stood nearby, along with the rhythmic beat of dance music. The folk band had left a while back and a makeshift disco had been set up. The last few guests and family members still lingered.

Slowly, the pizza horsebox trundled off into the night.

And, he hadn’t even thought to ask Lucy for her phone number or anything. Blimey, he must be losing his touch. That blow to his head had a lot to answer for. ‘Alright, mate?’ Matt was stood there, passing him a plate of buttered toast, bringing him back to the here and now.

‘Ah, yeah, sorry. Thanks.’ Jack took the toast, suddenly realising how hungry he was as he bit into a warm, buttery slice. This morning’s stream of thoughts, and the flashbacks to last night had left him feeling perturbed. ‘Good run?’

‘Yep, the usual 10K. Done and dusted now.’

‘What’ve you got on today then?’

‘Catching up with Jess for a few hours later.’ Jess was Matt’s steady girlfriend of a year now. She was a nice enough girl, but blimey, at times they were like an old married couple. Netflix nights in with a glass of wine, and slippers on. Jack often felt like the spare wheel in the house at those times, and made himself scarce by heading up to his room or taking a drive out in Ruby, off along the coast or up in the hills. ‘Bit of five-a-side footie this aft too,’ Matt continued.

‘And you? Any plans?’ Matt sat down opposite him, with a stack of thickly spread Marmite toast. That guy could eat for England.

‘Nothing particularly exciting. Said I’d visit the parents this morning.’

The day loomed. He had felt a bit adrift of late. Couldn’t put his finger on it. The business was going pretty well. He had some good mates, but he didn’t feel he was at the same point as them. Several were in long-term relationships, settling down, getting married, and that really wasn’t in Jack’s line of sight right now. He was turning thirty next year, still young, and no way did he want to feel tied down. Right now, the Cocktail Campervan was his main focus, but he had to admit, there were only so many hours you could buff Ruby’s red paint. Yeah, he’d give her a good tidy up and a polish after last night’s shift, get all those glasses put through the dishwasher; he liked to know she was back in good order. Then, this afternoon, he might think of setting off on a hike, or doing a run himself.

Jack finished his toast and drained the dregs of his much-needed coffee, feeling slightly better. Yep, he’d better get a shower, get dressed, and make his way to his parents’ house. The house that still felt far too empty.

Chapter 8

An hour later, Ruby pulled to a halt on the block-paved driveway of a red-brick, semi-detached house in the market town of Alnwick. Stepping out from the driving seat, Jack left on his Ray-Ban sunglasses. Well, it was a bright morning, after all.

‘Hey, Mum, Dad.’ He knocked, calling out, as he entered the front door. It felt natural to stroll in, as it had been his home too until four years ago; it was where he had grown up.

‘Oh hello, Jack, darling.’ His trim fifty-something mum, Denise, greeted him in the hallway with a warm smile and a hug.

‘Hello, son.’ Dad, Simon, gave him a firm yet friendly pat on the back, before finishing with a half-hug. His father’s salt-and-pepper hair was greying rapidly, with … Jack suddenly noticed, weird little tufts starting to sprout from his ears and nostrils. Blimey, he’d have to get him one of those trimmer things as a birthday gift, he mused. Middle age was creeping up on them both with stealth. Though Mum’s bobbed hair, once the same sandy-blonde shade as Jack’s, was now highlighted to a paler blonde (her regular hairdresser visits keeping any signs of grey at bay), the lines on her face were beginning to show. She looked tired, bless her.