Read Online Chocolate Box Girls: Sweet Honey by Cathy Cassidy - Free Book Online Page A

stray shoes and socks,
     giggling.
    The beach cafe is deserted except for
     Ash, sitting on a bar stool reading a book. He looks up as I walk in, scanning my
     damp hair, my bare feet, the dark, wet patches on my dress. Tara and Bennie stumble
     to a halt behind me, pink-cheeked and dripping.
    ‘Honey Tanberry,’ he says,
     and I am secretly pleased that he remembers my name.
    He raises an eyebrow. ‘Been
     swimming?’
    ‘It’s a hot day,’ I
     quip. ‘Couldn’t resist.’
    ‘It might be different in Britain,
     but I have to tell you, most people here get changed first …’
    ‘We are not most people,’ I
     tell him. ‘We like to be different. These are my school friends, Tara and
     Bennie. Girls, this is Ash.’
    ‘Good to meet you,’ he
     says.
    ‘Hello,’ Bennie gabbles.
     ‘We weren’t actually swimming – it was just paddling really, and then we
     got soaked by this huge wave that came out of nowhere …’
    ‘I saw,’ Ash says.
     ‘Looked like fun!’
    ‘It was!’ Bennie agrees. I
     notice she is holding Tara firmly by the arm, as if she might wriggle free and make
     a run for it any minute.
    ‘You were going to order
     something, Tara,’ I remind her. ‘Right?’
    ‘Mnnnnfff,’ Tara says
     through gritted teeth, her face scarlet. ‘I
     mean … um … three Cokes, please.’
    Ash slides down from the bar stool and
     heads behind the counter, and I pick up the abandoned book, a dog-eared philosophy
     text. It’s a pity Ash has major geek-boy tendencies because he’s very
     good-looking, in a dark and smouldering kind of way.
    ‘Are you at uni?’ Bennie
     asks.
    ‘School,’ he says.
     ‘Got my Higher School Cert next year.’
    ‘Oh … Nietzsche,’
     Tara says, picking up the book. ‘I’m quite interested in
     philosophy … I thought I might want to do it at uni.’
    ‘Yeah?’ Ash asks, pouring
     Coke into chilled glasses. ‘I have a couple of books you can try. Schopenhauer
     and Descartes, but fairly basic …’
    Tara’s boy phobia seems to have
     vanished – she and Ash are chatting happily about weird, long-dead boffins.
     It’s a little disconcerting.
    ‘Whatever,’ I say, rolling
     my eyes. ‘My philosophy is simple – live for the moment and make every second
     count. And have as much fun as you can, obviously.’
    ‘That’s definitely the
     impression I’m getting,’ Ash says, his attention back on me.
     ‘So … ice-cream floats in the Cokes then? On the house. One-time
     special offer for mermaids only?’
    ‘We’re not mermaids!’
     Bennie giggles.
    ‘But we’ll take the free
     drinks,’ I cut in. ‘Thanks!’
    Tara and Bennie take their drinks and
     head outside into the sunshine. As I turn to follow, Ash touches my arm and I shiver
     a little.
    ‘You’re quite something,
     Honey Tanberry,’ he says. For about a millisecond I think that’s a
     compliment, and then I remember the wet hair hanging around my face in
     rat’s-tail ringlets, the sea-splashed school dress, the shallow puddle forming
     around my sand-crusted feet. If it
is
a compliment, it is the strangest one
     ever.
    I start to laugh, and Ash laughs too,
     and it feels like the start of a friendship.
    I don’t get home until after six.
     I forgot to call Emma to pass on Dad’s message, and she’s cooking
     something complicated and stressful involving several recipe books and most of the
     contents of the kitchen cupboards. Everything is strewn across the kitchen as if a
     small tornado has just passed through, and she looks a little overwhelmed.
    ‘Did you get your laptop?’
     she asks, tucking a strand of hair behind one gold-hooped ear. ‘Is it nice?
     Where’s Greg?’
    ‘Change of plan,’ I explain.
     ‘Dad texted – he’ll sort the laptop at the weekend because something
     came up at work. He won’t be home for dinner … said he’d get a
     sandwich at his desk.’
    Emma’s face falls.
     ‘But … I’ve gone to all this trouble,’ she