Page 20

On Saturday, Elisa and his stepsisters went shopping.

Zeph had been given a list of jobs by his father who’d gone golfing.

Zeph did everything as quickly as he could.

He cut the grass, again, washed the downstairs windows and hoovered, then went out before anyone came back.

He didn’t have money to do much. No way would he touch the pound coins left in the hall.

It was probably a trap. Bus travel was reduced with his student pass, so he filled his water bottle, pocketed his Kindle and caught the bus to Wisby.

When he saw a group of volunteers cleaning litter off the beach, he offered to help and was given two bags—one for recyclables, a grabber and a pair of vinyl gloves. He was paired up with a lady in her sixties called Bettina.

“You have an unusual name,” she said. “Is it short for something?”

“No. It’s just Zeph.”

He’d have been happy not to talk, but Bettina was chatty and either excited about what they found or appalled. Zeph felt the same.

“There are waste bins to use. Why do people think it’s okay to leave stuff like babies’ nappies?” She shuddered.

“Or throw rubbish overboard.”

“Absolutely. And then there are the sad things. I remember thousands of starfish being washed up on a beach I used to walk on. That was depressing.”

“Do you do this every week?”

“Once a month.” She pointed to a yellow hut. “That’s my beach hut.”

“Are you a millionairess?” Zeph grinned.

She laughed. “If only they could be lived in. But no bathroom. No running water. Though lovely to sit in and look at the sea.”

“They’re pretty. Especially in the sunshine. Do they have to be painted particular colours?”

“As long as it’s pastel and different to its neighbour, it’s fine. I paint mine every year. I was going to start this afternoon. I’ve bought the paint. Yellow again.”

“I could help, if you like.”

She straightened up and smiled at him. “That’s really kind.”

“I wouldn’t want paying or anything.”

“You’re a good boy.”

His dad didn’t think so. He was tempted to tell Bettina what he had to put up with but he didn’t. He didn’t want to spend his life moaning.

Two hours later, he felt good about what he’d done and bad about what people thought it was okay to recklessly discard.

More than half of what he collected were single-use plastic items. He also found a Star Wars mask, a yellow whistle from a life jacket and a perfectly round flat pebble, which he pocketed.

He had a collection of special stones in his bedroom.

When Bettina had seen the one he’d marvelled over, she gave him a piece of bright green sea glass.

“Not a stone, but pretty.” She smiled at him.

Bettina shared her lunch with him and fell asleep in a deckchair as Zeph painted the hut. He’d finished before she woke.

“Oh my goodness! You’ve done it all? I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Oh Zeph, what a good job you’ve made of it.”

“And my fingers.”

“We’ve enough water for you to wash. I’ll take the brush home and clean it.”

Zeph stayed sitting next to Bettina for much of the afternoon. She had a shelf of books and they spent a couple of hours reading, Zeph on his Kindle, with Bettina making him a cup of coffee using a primus stove.

“Biscuits too.” She handed him the packet.

“Thank you.”

“So why don’t you want to go home, young man?”

He took a biscuit and handed back the packet. “Is it obvious?”

“I can’t work out why a sixteen-year-old boy would rather collect rubbish, paint a pensioner’s beach hut without wanting money, then spend the afternoon keeping her company.”

“It’s peaceful here. It’s not peaceful at home. My mum died when I was twelve. She was such a…” He choked up. “My father married again a year later and his new wife moved in with her two teenage daughters. Both older than me.”

She gave him a sad look. “You don’t get on with them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I’ll give you an example. My dad and stepmother went away for the weekend and said I could have a sixteenth birthday party.

I didn’t want one but my stepsisters invited lots of people from school and the house was a mess when I woke.

” He sighed. “I cleaned it all up and my stepsisters claimed all the credit.”

“Cinderella.”

Zeph laughed. “I am, aren’t I?”

“You know, if you want to come and use the hut, you’re very welcome. The code for the padlock is 9503. I’m trusting you with that. I’m only here in the week usually.”

Zeph gave her a hug. “Thank you so much.”

“I know what it’s like to need a bit of peace.”

When Zeph neared his house, he could detect the distinct aroma of a barbeque. He went round into the garden and found everyone eating at the patio table. Georgia’s boyfriend, Toby, was there too.

“Where’ve you been?” his dad demanded.

“You could have let us know where you were.” Elisa pushed a plate with a sausage and a bun towards him.

“I don’t have a phone, remember?” Zeph mentally crossed his fingers.

“Don’t be cheeky,” his dad said.

Zeph didn’t respond. What had he been supposed to say? He didn’t want the sausage. He never ate sausages. But there was nothing else. He went inside, made himself a peanut butter sandwich and snuck it upstairs.

One last attempt to contact Jack, then he’d give up.

“Please call and tell me you’re okay. I have this vision of you and your uncle being held at gunpoint in your house. Or that you’re really sick and you’re in hospital. I hope not. But if it’s because you don’t want to be bothered with me anymore, please tell me and I’ll stop pestering you.”

When there was no answer after an hour, he switched off the phone and hid it.