Breakers (1981)

"There's a smokey on my tail!"

"That's a big 10-4 Miss Piggy."

Clint and his sister were chasing each other on the grass in front of the caravan, speaking into their imaginary radio handsets. The girl was blonde and colt-like, with skinny tanned legs; her bright green halter neck top revealed buds of breasts when she leaned forward. Clint was a slightly smaller version of Ruby, you could tell they were siblings: the same scruffy flaxen hair, hesitant smiles and wary brown eyes.

"What's your twenty Flash Gordon?"

"Behind Uncle Jim's car!"

"10-4 Good Buddy."

They were having fun together now, but this wasn't often the case. Their father's divide and conquer strategy having driven a wedge between them years ago, ensuring that they mostly treated each other with suspicion. Dad was absent from this caravan holiday by the sea though, away working on the lorries. It made for a more relaxed atmosphere.

Clints cheeks were flushed, his fringe quiffed up with sweat. Ruby flopped down in the shady patch of tall grass between the caravans and began to pick the long stalks, tickling her legs with the soft ripe seedheads.

Clint looked at Ruby playing in the grass and lay down next to her, with his head near her smooth brown shins. He hated her most of the time, but the sun has turned her pinched face pretty, with a scattering of freckles across her nose. Her smile made him feel a pang of something, affection maybe? She seemed happier than at home, but was still moody. This morning she nearly bit mum's head off when she asked her to fetch Uncle Jim over for breakfast.

Ruby noticed Clint staring at her, she met his eyes directly and smirked.

"Cock or hen?"

"Hen."

She ran the blade of grass between her thumb and forefinger, so that the seeds bunched up into a green rosette.

"You win!" She tossed the grass grains at Clint's head.

He grabbed her foot, tossing aside her pink flip flop and sucked her big toe hard. She squealed and wriggled in disgust, but this just made him suck harder. Ruby cried out for Clint to stop, squirming in the grass, flinging her free foot around wildly. It made contact with his head, which riled him, so that he pinned her down and started pummeling her with his fist.

"Clint! Get off her now!"

Clint's mother grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt and pulled him upright. Ruby's face was red and tear-streaked, her clothing stretched out of shape. She looked at the ground and spat blood and froth onto the grass.

"Get your things together you two: we're going to the beach. Ruby, you can go with Uncle Jim."

"That's not fair!" shouted the boy, "She always gets to go in his car. She's out every night talking on his CB Radio, and I'm not even allowed to touch it."

"Just do as you're told. You obviously can't be trusted, so you're coming with me and Gran."

...........................

Clint was sitting at the wobbly table in the caravan with his Gran. His mum stood near the gas hob, wating for the whistle of the kettle. Clint sighed, he was bored, and still felt hot from the beach, his shoulders throbbing with sunburn. He wondered where his sister had got to with Jim, they had left the beach at the same time as them. He idly regarded the flowery curtains, tied back in neat bunches, like girls' pigtails.

He jumped to eager attention as he heard Uncle Jim's car pull up outside and looked through the window. Ruby jumped out of the passenger side and strode quickly over to their caravan. She looked unhappy, hunched up, hands buried in the pockets of her sweatshirt. Jim didn't move from the driver's seat, he was probably fiddling with his CB Radio, thought Clint. Jedi Jim he called himself when he talked to his CB Radio buddies. Clint had listened to their chat, but it was mostly boring, apart from the funny 'handles' and call signs.

"Where did you get that?!"

Clint noticed Ruby remove a Dracula iced lolly from her pocket where she had been hiding it. She started sucking on it and her lips stained blood red. Her face changed from sad to defiant. She looked at Clint, her eyes sparking like flint, daring him to say more.

"Where's mine?"

"I asked Jim to get you a Funny Feet at the garage, but he said it would be melted by the time we got here," she pouted, telling only half the truth.

"It's not fair - you're always getting stuff."

"Enough Clint," Mum said firmly, "deal the cards out. We'll play Donkey."

Clint's heart sank, anticipating a night of boredom and humiliation.

"I'm sick of Donkey. I always lose."

"Eeyore!" mocked Ruby, laughing.

Jim squeezed himself in at the table next to Ruby, so they dealt him in. He was squashing her up against Gran. Ruby shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Jim noticed Clint's resentful look towards him.

"Sorry, I'll get you a lolly tomorrow." He looked at Clint from underneath his dark eyebrows, but it was more a threat to keep quiet, than an act of conciliation.
.......................

Clint bolted out of the caravan and into the dark. The grass felt cool and damp beneath his bare feet. Laughter and shouts of "Donkey! Donkey!" rang out through the cardboard thin caravan walls.

Clint grabbed the stupid homemade paper donkey mask off his head and threw it to the ground, tears of humiliation stinging his eyes. Why did they always gang up on him? Ruby was such a traitor, egging Jim on like that.

"That stupid bastard Jim," he muttered under his breath.

He walked over to Jim's car and tried the door handle. It opened. He looked at Uncle Jim's CB Radio and ran his hand over it. He couldn't harm it: it was Jim's pride and joy. He wasn't even allowed to touch it, only Ruby. Jim would murder Clint if he messed with it.

He looked down at the driver's seat and saw Jim's caravan key lying there: it must have fallen out of his pocket. Clint imagined scraping the serrated edge along the side of Jim's shiny car, scratching angry words of hatred into the paintwork.
..........................

Clint looked around. The curtains of the caravan he and Ruby shared with Gran and Mum were drawn. It shone like a lantern next to Jim's dark, empty one. He used the key that he'd found in Jim's car and crept into the silent space. It was still warm and stuffy from the heat of the day. He could tell by mum's shrill laughter that they had started drinking: Jim would be ages yet.

He dared to put on one of the plastic lights, pulling the cord with a click. He nosed around the kitchen area. Jim always ate with the family, so the fridge stood empty and the cupboards were bare. His shaving gear sat next to the sink, Clint ran the soft bristles of his shaving brush against his bare cheek, and then set it back on the draining board.

He scanned the objects on the table: an ashtray, matches, blue biro and a notepad scrawled with strange names: Morning Glory, Widow Maker, Chuck Bronson. They must belong to 'breakers', Jim's CB Radio friends. He spotted a blurred polaroid of Ruby. His heart thudded in his chest.

Jim hadn't bothered to make his bed, the white sheets and bedspread were a crumpled messy heap. Clint spotted something bright peeking out from beneath the covers. It was one of Ruby's colourful sun tops.

Clint retched. Rage welled up inside him. He grabbed the pad and wrote in angry, scrawling capitals.

MISS PIGGY SUCKS COCK.
JEDI JIM DIRTY FUCKER.

He ran out into the night, leaving the caravan door flapping on its hinges.