Next day when I got up the sky was that pure, clear blue you only get at the seaside. There was a soft breeze blowing in off the sea, promising to take the edge off the heat when the sun got high. I put on the best clothes I had with me: my baggiest jeans, which hung so low Mum couldn’t look at me without begging me to wear a belt, and my one, precious, pair of Calvin Kleins. And a faded Acid House t-shirt, but you couldn’t have everything.
“Make sure you put on some sun lotion!” Mum called after me as I ran down the steps of the B&B, paranoid I’d be late to meet Rupe and he wouldn’t wait.
“I’ll be fine, Mum. See you whenever, all right?” I gave a last wave, and legged it down the street to the sea front.
Butterflies zipped around my stomach like clubbers on Ecstasy as I neared the boat
