Read Online Out of Towners by Dan Tunstall - Free Book Online Page B

There’s something in her eyes. She’s wondering how I’m going to react.
    I try to lighten the mood.
    â€œA Bimmer?” I say. “At least you nicked a good motor. I mean it could have been a Skoda or something.”
    Steph gives a half-smile, relieved but still unsure. I should leave it there, but there’s something that’s nagging at me. I’ve got to ask.
    â€œHow did you know how to hotwire a car?”
    Steph purses her lips.
    â€œMy dad was a bit of a wide boy. Knew about dodgy business. And he taught me quite a lot of it. That’s why I know how to drive. He used to take me out on Sundays, round this disused airfield. It wasn’t once or twice, it was loads of times. I got quite good. Dad had a BMW 3 Series, so it was no problem driving the one I twocced.”
    â€œHe sounds like a cool bloke, your dad,” I say.
    Steph doesn’t answer straight away. She runs her tongue along her teeth.
    â€œThere were some cool things about him. Some not so cool.”
    I nod my head slowly.
    â€œSo do you never see him at all nowadays?”
    This time there’s no hesitation.
    â€œNo. My mum and I don’t have any contact with him any more. Probably for the best.”
    It sounds like Steph doesn’t want to continue along this path. I move closer and squeeze her shoulder.
    She looks at me.
    â€œDo you think I’m really bad?” she asks.
    â€œYeah,” I say. “Terrible.”
    But she knows I’m only joking.
    I check my phone. I can hardly believe it. Half past two. While I’ve been talking to Steph, I’ve lost track of what’s been going on. Not much, it seems. The fire is still burning. Dylan and Nikita are still chatting. Robbie’s trying to build a stack of pebbles. And George is slumped into Gemma with a glazed look on his face.
    The night’s boozing is catching up with George. The vodka has sent him over the edge. We’re onto the second bottle now and he’s spannered. You’d have thought someone his size should be able to knock it back no problem at all, but he isn’t much of a drinker. Usually, if we’re having a few cans at someone’s house, or a couple of bottles of cider on the park, George is the one who stays sober. Makes sure we don’t do anything too stupid. Not tonight. I suppose he did try, earlier on when he rolled up with his pints of water. Strangely, he stopped worrying about keeping himself hydrated when the girls arrived. I notice he’s got his hand on Gemma’s knee. She doesn’t seem to mind. I look at him and he dissolves into a fit of giggles.
    â€œI’ll tell you something,” he says. His Brummie accent is twice as broad as normal. It happens when he’s had a few.
    â€œWhat’s that George?”
    George stops giggling. He looks deadly serious.
    â€œEveryone likes a drink,” he says. “But no-one likes a drunk.”
    I’m about to ask him what he’s on about, but there’s no point. He’s doubled over, laughing so hard he’s in danger of giving himself a hernia. I shake my head. It’s the sort of thing his dad comes out with. He’s a funny bloke, George’s old man. Nice, but slightly odd. When George has finished laughing, he leans towards Nikita.
    â€œI’ll tell you something,” he says. “Everyone likes a drink…”
    Nikita cuts him off.
    â€œYeah, I know George. But no-one likes a drunk.”
    George looks disappointed. But he starts chortling again anyway.
    Over the next hour we keep the fire going the best we can. We’ve used up the supplies of fuel on our part of the beach, so me and Steph head off over the groyne to scavenge on the next bit. Steph finds the blade of a kids’ cricket bat, minus the handle, and I get a couple of fruit boxes that have floated in with the tide. They’re a bit waterlogged, but the fire is roaring and they catch light no problem at