“The Olympics would be so cool,” I tell him seriously. He flushes again.
“Kids, can you walk Crunchie?” I hear Mrs Fletcher call up the stairs.
“Coming, Mum!”
The two of us traipse down the stairs, collecting a leash and some treats.
We chat as we walk round the park, weaving along gravel paths lined with early autumn leaves. Sam tells me about his oldschool, the people at his swimming club, some of the races he’s been to round the country. It’s nice. It’s easy. I like talking to Sam.
That evening, we curl up on the sofa, Crunchie snoring gently at our feet. The living room is dim except for the glow of the TV, and the familiar opening notes ofPirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearlfill the room.
“I promise you’ll love this,” I say, nudging him with my elbow. “The soundtrack is epic too. Tom played it with the school orchestra last year. It was actually kind of cool. But don’t tell him I said that.”
Ten minutes into the film I glance sideways at Sam. He’s leaning forwards slightly, brow furrowed in concentration like he’s trying to absorb every scene. Watching him watch the film is almost more entertaining than the film itself. Then again, I’ve seen it four times and could probably recite half the lines in my sleep.
“Yeah, that was really good,” he tells me when it finishes, putting the bowl of popcorn to one side and stretching up. “Want to watch the second one together?”
“Obviously,” I say.
He grins.
“You know what?” I add suddenly. “We should have our own code.”
He frowns. “Like the pirate’s code?”
“Exactly, but with some extra rules. Like when you go to the Olympics I have to cheer the loudest.”
He grins at me, blue eyes bright, hair sticking up at odd angles from how many times he’s run his hands through it.
“What else?”
“And you always have to give me piggybacks. That’s rule two,” I say, keeping my face completely serious.
He gives me a look of mock outrage that only lasts a second before cracking, and the two of us dissolve into giggles on the sofa.
Chapter 3
Thirteen years old
Kath
I’ve been desperate for Sam to visit Devon for the last two years. He’s heard me talk about it enough times that it almost feels like he’s been here before. It’s one of my favourite places in the world, and Tom and I always spend the summer here, staying with Nan. There are so many places I want to show Sam. The sweet shop Tom and I used to go to, the fish-and-chip place right on the beach, the café that has an ancient but incredibly friendly spaniel that sleeps behind the till. I know he’s going to love it.
Tom keeps teasing me about my obsessive planning of this week, but I know how much it means for Sam to change his training schedule. I want it to be perfect. I’ve already checked the opening times of the community pool so that he can do some training. But it’s the other stuff I’m most excited for. The seaside walks, the movies in the evening, the board games.
I wave like a maniac when I spot him at the station, and he grins, slinging his bag back over his shoulder and wheeling his suitcase towards the car. He curses under his breath as I squeeze him into a hug.
“Hi, Kath,” he grunts. “Please can I breathe again?”
“Yep.” I straighten. “You need to be able to breathe for all the things I have planned this week. Dying on day one is not on the agenda.”
“Sorry I have so much stuff.” He grimaces, picking up the handle of the suitcase again. “I had to bring all the kit for swimming including a kickboard, and it takes up way too much room. I hope it all fits. I told the coach I didn’t need the fins but he insisted.”
“Nonsense,” Nan says, walking around to the front of the car, a soft summer breeze ruffling her hair. “We can make it work.”
“Sorry.” Sam rejigs his bags and holds out his hand. “I’m Sam. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Ford. Thanks so much for having me to stay.”
“Oh gosh. You don’t need to be so formal. Call me Betty, or Nan. Mrs Ford makes me feel old, and by the time you two reach my age, you’ll be desperate to do anything to feel young.”