Artists Town

THE GUY WITH THE BIKE

THE

GUY WITH THE BIKEThankfully,

Tony kept his terrible dad sayings to just “let’s get this show on the road”,

as he rubbed his hands together and opened the back door of the car to let them

in.

Sat in the back seat of the car in between Daisy and her brother,

Katrina took charge of the outing, leaning forward so she could instruct

Debbie. “You should go and have a look at the Dhoon.”

“What’s that, then?” Tony twisted so he could speak to her.

“It’s a beach. It’s got a shipwreck, aye? And the tide’ll be in.” Katrina sat back again, nudging

Daisy once more. The nudges made Daisy

hopeful. Was there more to this beach than Katrina was saying? Maybe it was

like Brighton or even the beaches in Spain, scantily-clad teenagers (boys)

parading up and down the sandy shores.

You could only hope.

Debbie ordered Katrina to belt up, embarrassing Daisy once more.

Katrina, on the other hand, did so at once. “Aye, you’re right, Mrs Walker. The

roads around here arenae safe. Quite a

few people have been killed because they werenae wearing their seatbelts.”

Matthew’s eyes widened. He was at the age where he’d figured out what

dying was and that it could happen to his mum and his dad—and even to him.

“Muuummm,” he wailed. “It’s too dangerous!”

Her mum and dad looked at each other. Tony turned around once more.

“Matthew, your mum’s a careful driver. We’ll be fine! And it’ll be

lovely to see the sea, won’t it?”

Katrina nudged Daisy again. She nudged Katrina

back, sure that she’d wound up her little brother on purpose.

The drive to the beach didn’t take long

with instructions barked out by Katrina; “left here, over the bridge, left here, slow here the road’s twisty, a man’s car exploded here years ago,

but he was drunk at the time.”

Matthew clapped his hands over his eyes at that.

The beach began to appear, stretches of sand, gorse and yellow-flecked

rocks. The sea wasn’t as blue as the water you saw in France or Spain, but it

was a calm day, and the water looked glassily peaceful, the white foam-tipped

waves gently hitting the shore and rolling back.

There were plenty of other cars in the car park. Daisy’s hopes leapt.

Maybe there was an amusement arcade or a pier.

Katrina led them to a sand track that took them to the beach, a long, narrow stretch of sand, book-ended by rocks.

Daisy looked around her. There were

houses on the rocks to the left-hand side

and a lighthouse in the distance. Families with small children populated the

beach’s upper level.

There was no sign of an amusement arcade; only an ice-cream van in the

car park hemmed in by yet more small children. The van was selling Mr Whippy’s, the air-light, white sugary stuff

Daisy had once adored before diabetes closed yet another door on her.

Tony took his shoes off and indicated that they should all do the same.

“Who’s for a paddle, then?” Daisy’s mum and Matthew removed their footwear, but

Daisy shook her head.

“I’ll guard the shoes and bags,” she offered. The rest of her family

rolled up trousers and headed down to the water.

Left on their own, Katrina wriggled her toes into the sand. “Good idea

not to,” she said, gesturing at Daisy’s family, all shrieking with laughter at

the shock of the icy water. “Sellafield’s no’ that far away.”

“What’s Sellafield?”

Katrina’s voice dropped to a whisper. “A nuclear plant. Your family will

come back glowing green. Mind, maybe that’ll make them live forever. There’s an

auld granny who swims here every day in

the summer, and she’s ninety.”

Daisy didn’t know if she believed that. She only swam in the sea if they

went to France or Spain. Brighton was too cold, and it was like a hundred

degrees warmer than this place.

Daisy turned to Katrina. “I thought this place might be…” About to say,

‘exciting’, ‘cool’, or ‘full of teenagers’, she stopped herself. Maybe Katrina

did think the beach was exciting. She

lived in Kirkinwall, and perhaps she had different expectations when it came to

fun.

Katrina wasn’t listening anyway. She had turned the other way and was

waving at someone. The someone began to

walk towards them. As he approached, Daisy cheered up. Now, this was much more

promising.

She recognised him as the boy who’d been sitting on the Harbour car park wall when they’d found the

fish and chip shop. The one who, please no, didn’t overhear her dad and his sergeant major impression.

He was a bit older than her and Katrina, eighteen or nineteen, maybe,

and tall, thin and freckly. He looked familiar too, the big eyes, the ski-jump

nose and the prominent top lip reminding her of someone. As unpromising as

those features might be on their own, together they made him look distinctive.

Daisy tried her best not to stare. As clueless as she was about boys—an

all-girls school didn’t give you many ideas when it came to the opposite

sex—she knew to stare was a no-no. She blinked and shifted her gaze.

“Alright, Kippy?” Katrina asked.

Kippy nodded, tipping his head to the side toward Daisy. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new pal Daisy,”

Katrina said. “You can call her Your Royal Highness.” It had sounded smart when

Daisy said it earlier. Now, it was just…uncool. Mind you, Katrina saying Daisy

was her pal made her glow with pleasure.

“Hello,” she said, putting out a hand for him to shake. Katrina and

Kippy exchanged grins, Kippy ignoring her hand. Daisy dropped it, feeling

herself flush.

“I did tell you she was posh,” Katrina said. “Daisy, this eejit is ma

cousin, Alan Kirkpatrick, but we call him Kippy. He thinks it’s because it’s

short for Kirkpatrick, but we do it because he smells like a kipper.”

The ‘cousin’ explanation explained the familiarity. He did look like Katrina, who also had sharp

features on a lean, lanky body. Daisy liked his big, blue eyes and the freckles

made his face intriguing. Did they appear

more in the summer? What did he look like in the winter?

Kippy screwed up his face, the movement joining together some of the more prominent freckles close to his nose.

“Aye, whatever. Do I smell like a kipper to you?”

He leant in, proffering his throat for Daisy to take a sniff. She could make

out washing powder and one of those nose-assaulting

antiperspirants boys liked to use. Lynx, perhaps. Once the sting of the Lynx

wore off though, it was warm and pleasant,

and nothing like kippers. Younger brothers aside, Daisy never usually got this

close to guys. She wished she could do

something to make him stay where he was.

“You going to that party on Friday?” Katrina asked him as he stepped

back. He nodded again, not taking his eyes off Daisy.

“Right. We’ll come too,” Katrina pronounced.

“I’ll come and get you first,”

Kippy replied. To her acute disappointment, he broke the eye contact with

Daisy. “I heard just about everyone’s going. Should be a belter of a party.”

Katrina nudged Daisy. “See? A bit

of excitement for you.”

Kippy looked at her once more, the eyes sparkling and mischievous. “Aye.

Anything could happen.”

Daisy’s stomach flipped and turned over. When he’d said ‘anything’, the

look he’d given her seared through her body. She could feel waves of heat

radiating from her core.

“See ya.” He sauntered off, back in the direction he’d come from where

an abandoned bicycle lay in the sand. The heat left Daisy’s body as quickly as

it had come on.

“Think you’ll be able to come?” Katrina asked as they watched him go.

“There’s no’ much to do in this place, so

we make up for it by having wild parties.”

“What does ‘wild’ mean?” Daisy risked the uncool question.

Katrina smirked. “s*x, drugs and rock and roll. Chips, dips, chains and

whips. The basic high school orgy type of thing. What else would it be?”

It took her a few seconds to get the Weird Science reference. Katrina’s

deadpan delivery was a perfect impression of Lisa, the woman created by two

high school nerds. If you’d asked her last week to create the world’s greatest best friend, Daisy thought

she might have come up with Katrina. Cool, sarky,

asking her to go to parties and with the benefit of good-looking relatives.

The holiday began to change shape and colour in Daisy’s mind. A few

hours ago, it had been flat and grey. Now, the sun popped out from behind the

clouds, shining light and hope.

“So, can you come?” Katrina asked again. “As my new pal, I should

introduce you to people around here.”

My new pal. Daisy repeated it!

Her family were still paddling, Tony chasing her little brother and

trying to splash him. The party was on Friday. That gave her three whole days

to convince her mum and dad to let her go.