by Imogen Clark
Sebastian smiled. He liked going up the ladder to pull the leaves out of the gutters. Anna didn’t.
His father pulled the car on to the hardstanding at the side of the caravan and switched off the engine. He let out a sharp sigh.
‘Let the holiday commence!’ he said, and got out of the car. ‘Hope you’ve brought your thermals, Mother!’ he said. ‘It’s pretty parky out here.’
‘Always a bit of a gamble at Easter, the Lakes,’ said his mother, opening her door. ‘Do you remember how it snowed that time?’
They always talked about the time it had snowed. Sebastian had only been three or four and he wasn’t really sure that he did actually remember it. His blurry memories were all mixed up with photographs of him wrapped up in a blue jacket and a red bobble hat and the stories that the others told of that year.
‘No snow in the forecast this year,’ said his father confidently. ‘But you never know what those hills might hold in store for us.’ He threw a pretend scared look up at the black mountains in the distance, opening his eyes really wide and hunching his shoulders over.
Sebastian laughed.
‘Now, where are those keys?’ he said, and started patting all his pockets. Sebastian smiled at the familiar game. Even though it was pretty babyish, he liked to join in for his father’s sake.
‘That one!’ he said, pointing at the breast pocket of his father’s jacket. His father comically searched each pocket in turn without luck until he finally came to the one that Sebastian had pointed to in the first place and produced the key with its cork keyring dangling from it.
‘Why didn’t you tell me to look there in the first place?’ he laughed, and Sebastian laughed too. His father tossed the keys at his mother. She caught them with her left hand and then slotted the key into the lock. The door opened smoothly.
Inside the caravan everything looked orange as the weak sunlight shone through the woven curtains. It was cold and smelled musty, as it always did when they first arrived. It was Sebastian’s job to open the curtains. He took his trainers off, leaving them on the mat at the door, and squeezed past his mother so that he could let the light in. He kneeled up on the benches to reach the curtains, pulling them carefully from the top as his mother had shown him and not from the bottom where they were likely to come free from the tracks.
‘Shall I start bringing in the stuff?’ asked his father.
‘Yes. That’d be grand. We’ll be done in no time,’ said his mother. ‘And then you can go down to the shop and get some milk for a cup of tea, Pumpkin.’ Sebastian loved going to the shop on-site because his father often gave him five pence to spend as long as he didn’t tell his mother or let her catch him chewing Bubbly.
His father brought the bags and boxes from the car and piled them up in the doorway. Sebastian passed them to his mother, who decanted the contents into drawers and wardrobes until it was all away. He then passed the empty bags back to his father, who shut them up neatly in the boot of the Volvo. This job used to be done by Miriam and Clare but now it was his job.
His mother was just putting the Rich Teas in the biscuit barrel above the kettle when Anna reappeared.
‘Shoes!’ shouted Sebastian at Anna as she tried to come in without taking them off.
‘All right. Keep your hair on,’ she said sharply, but she slipped her pumps off.
She came in and slid herself on to the bench seat behind the dining table.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ she asked.
‘Sebastian is just going to get the milk. Do you want to go with him, Anna?’
Sebastian flinched. Going to get the milk and his sweets by himself was one of the highlights of his holiday and having his big sister with him would rob him of this chance.
‘No, thanks,’ said Anna, and Sebastian relaxed. ‘I’ll just kick around here for a bit. It’s dead out there. There’s no one around except the Thornburys.’
Another of Sebastian’s favourite things about coming to the caravan was that they always saw the same people. There were caravans for ordinary tourists to borrow but most of the families on the site had their own static caravans, like they did. Some of them visited every weekend, he knew. His family didn’t. It was too far, and there was always something happening at home at the weekend. They came every holiday, though, and that was when most other people came.
‘I thought you liked Colin Thornbury,’ his mother asked Anna.
‘That was before he turned into a lecherous toad with wandering eyes and hands to match,’ Anna said. Their mother threw her one of her warning faces, although Sebastian wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t noticed a swear word in there. Maybe ‘lecherous’ was rude? He would have to try to remember to look it up later on. He had packed his Collins Pocket Dictionary at the bottom of his satchel. One problem with being the youngest child was that he often had no idea what was going on around him, so the dictionary came in very handy. He wondered briefly what wandering hands were and his mind skittered off to The Iron Man, which they were reading at school. That had a wandering eye in it too, come to think of it. It didn’t seem that that could be what Anna meant, though. Sebastian knew Colin and there was nothing odd about his appearance – at least, there hadn’t been the last time they’d met.
‘And you’ve always got along with little Laura,’ his mother continued.
‘That was when we were kids. She’s only fifteen and she just doesn’t get it.’
Get what? Sebastian thought, and wondered whether other families spoke in this kind of code that he wasn’t old enough to have the key to yet.
‘Well, I know the Rosses will be coming and the Bakers. And anyway, haven’t you got revision to be done?’
Anna groaned.
‘Give me a break, Mum. We’ve only just arrived.’
‘Even so,’ his mother said knowingly and then carried on putting the mini boxes of breakfast cereal into the cupboard over the sink. Sebastian loved the cereal variety packs. They only ever had them when they were here. His mother said they were far too expensive to buy the rest of the time but they fitted so neatly into the little cupboards of the caravan that they were allowed (although there was only one packet and once they were gone they were gone). There were other small things too that they bought at a special supermarket on the way that seemed to sell only tiny things. Little bottles of ketchup, half-sized jars of Nescafé. It made Sebastian feel like a giant, or at the very least an adult. At home they had economy-sized everything. Even though Miriam and now Clare had left home, his mother still seemed to shop as if they were a family of six. Maybe she hoped they would call in for tea at the drop of a hat and she wanted to be prepared. No chance of that, though. He hadn’t seen Clare for ages.
‘I’ll go get the milk, then,’ said Sebastian, anxious to run his errand before it got snatched away from him. ‘Do you need anything else, Mummy? Can I have some money, Dad?’
‘Just the milk at the moment, Pumpkin,’ his mother said. ‘Have you got some change, Frank? I’ve only got notes.’
His father rattled around in his trouser pocket and pulled out a handful of change. Sebastian eyed it greedily.
‘How much will it be?’
‘More than at home. That site shop is very expensive. It shouldn’t be more than 25p, I wouldn’t have thought.’
Dad picked out three shiny ten-pence coins and handed them to Sebastian.
‘Usual deal?’ asked Sebastian hopefully.
‘Okay,’ replied his father. ‘But don’t tell your mother!’
‘Don’t tell me what?’
‘I can’t tell you!’ laughed Sebastian, and stuffing the coins into his pocket he headed for the door.
‘And put those trainers on properly,’ she shouted after him. ‘If you break the backs down there’ll be a holy bother.’
Sebastian wriggled his feet into his trainers and stuffed the laces down the sides.
‘Tie your laces!’ his mother shouted. ‘You’ll break your neck.’
Was there
nothing she didn’t see?
He set off down their road and when he got to the copper beech he turned right towards the centre of the site. The lake was in front of him, the water sparkling in the early-morning sun. There were some dinghies out already and a couple of the large boats that had rooms tucked away underneath the water out of sight were bobbing up and down on their moorings. Sebastian wanted to sail but so far his father had always said no. Maybe this holiday they could hire a boat and have a go. It didn’t look very difficult. All you had to do was sail up and down and shout instructions at your crew when you wanted to turn. He was pretty sure that they could master it quickly.
He reached the shop and went inside. Even though he loved coming to the shop, he always got a little bit nervous as he walked in. It was run by the Macintosh family, which seemed to be made up of girls with red hair and big chests. If Mrs Macintosh or the oldest girl was serving there was no problem, but there were also the twins. He cast a nervous glance at the counter. Two red-headed girls were standing there. His heart sank.
He picked up a bottle of milk and checked the price – twenty-four pence. That meant he could spend his five pence and still have change. The penny sweets were by the till. He sidled over, trying to look small and unimportant.
‘Hey! Look who’s back,’ said the nearest twin. Sebastian didn’t look up.
‘Who?’ asked her sister.
‘It’s that little lad with the posh name. What’s your name again?’
Sebastian contemplated ignoring them but he was the only one in the shop.
‘It’s Sebastian,’ he said quietly, without looking up from the sweets.
‘That’s it,’ said Twin One. ‘Like that poofter on the telly. ‘You got a teddy bear, then?’
‘No,’ replied Sebastian, although he had.
‘You here for the holidays?’ Twin Two asked.
Sebastian thought that was pretty obvious but he didn’t want to make them cross so he just nodded his head.
‘You brought those sisters of yours with you?’
‘Just Anna.’
‘That’s good. We won’t have to lock our boyfriends away, then, eh, Mary?’
Twin One nodded. Sebastian had lost track of which of them was speaking, mainly because of his refusal to make eye contact.
‘She’s a right slapper, your sister.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. A proper little goer.’
Sebastian had no idea what they meant, nor which sister they were talking about, but he knew it wasn’t nice. This was annoying. He was going to have to rush his sweet selection just so that he could get out of there. He grabbed two Bubblies, a Juicy Fruit and two Black Jacks and thrust them forward to be totted up with the milk. It was a bad choice. Bubbly was banned and his mother would spot the Black Jacks on his teeth but there was nothing he could do. He needed to get out of there.
The twin that was serving dropped each item into a white paper bag. He heard them hit the bottom one by one.
‘That’s twenty-nine pence, please,’ she said.
He handed over his coins without making eye contact. She dropped them into the till and handed him his penny change.
‘Say hello to your mum and dad,’ the other one said. ‘And your sister.’
She was smiling but there was something about her look that he didn’t like. Her eyes reminded him of the snake in The Jungle Book.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled and, picking up the bottle and the paper bag, walked out into the sunshine. He could hear them laughing after him although he knew that they couldn’t be laughing at him. What had he done?
Outside and away from the door, he put the milk down and looked at his selection. He would have to eat the Juicy Fruit now. The trip back was too short to allow the other two. He was cross with the twins, making him rush his choice like that. Still, they were here all week so there should be a chance for another errand, and next time he would choose a moment when the twins weren’t working.
He picked up the pint and set off back towards the van, allowing the Juicy Fruit to melt slightly on his tongue before he could resist no longer and began to chew.
As he walked, a squirrel ran out in front of him, looked at him and then scampered up a tree at the roadside. He had learned at school that grey squirrels had seen off all the native red ones and so weren’t very popular. He felt a bit sorry for the squirrels. He wondered what the twins had meant about his sister and which sister they had been talking about. It was bound to be Clare. It was always Clare. He thought he might ask his father but something made him cautious. Maybe he’d ask Anna, if she ever stopped being so cross all the time.
II
It was later in the day that Sebastian overheard another conversation that left him confused. They had eaten lunch and had all wandered down to the edge of the lake for a stroll. Sebastian had taken his fishing net and an old bucket. It had a picture of three cheerful little fish and a smiling shark on it. It was probably a bit babyish for him but it still held water okay.
Sebastian, in his wellies, with his jeans rolled up to his knees, stood in the shallows and tried to catch the minnows as they swam past. It was harder than it looked and the long handle of his net kept getting in the way, but every time he went to scoop water with his hands, his mother would shout at him to keep dry.
His parents were standing at the water’s edge just behind him, looking out at the boats that sailed back and forth.
‘I don’t know what to do, Frank,’ his mother said. ‘It’s been over three weeks since I’ve heard anything from her. I’m worried sick, so I am.’
‘She is so selfish,’ replied his father, and Sebastian, curious to know more, tried to listen without turning round and looking.
‘Has Miriam heard from her?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Not when I rang her on Thursday, anyway. She said I shouldn’t worry and that no news was good news.’
‘Well, that’s probably right. And she is an adult.’
‘She’s only twenty-two! I know that technically that counts but how much does she know? I mean, really.’
‘She’s flighty and headstrong but she’s not stupid. She’ll not do anything daft,’ said his father.
Sebastian assumed that his father had bent down to pick up a stone because one came skimming by him, hit the water five times and then broke the surface and disappeared into the black lake. The fish near him scarpered.
‘But she already has, Frank. Done something daft. I mean, what was she thinking of?’
‘Well, she wasn’t thinking, was she? And that’s the problem. She never does. She’s a law unto herself, that one.’
Sebastian was pretty sure that they were talking about Clare. She had come back from poly at Christmas as usual and then there had been a massive row and she’d left again. Sisters were always coming and going. Sebastian was used to it. But this time his parents seemed to be more worried than usual.
‘Have you caught anything there, young man?’ his father asked, and Sebastian turned round, relieved that he could stop earwigging.
‘Not much. A few tiny little things but no real fish. I don’t think this is a good spot.’
‘A bad workman blames his tools, son.’
‘I’m not! It’s just that there aren’t any fish here. I think they like shady bits best.’
‘Why don’t we wander over there, to where those trees are overhanging,’ said his mother. ‘Don’t forget that spade.’
Sebastian collected his belongings and set off down the beach, trying not to get too far ahead in case there was more information to overhear.
‘I know where she is,’ his mother continued. ‘She put the address on that postcard. I could just hop on a train and make her come home.’
‘And what good would that do?’ asked his father.
‘Well, at least I’d know she was safe, for one thing.’
‘If she wasn’t safe, I’m sure we’d have heard.’
‘How do you know, Frank? A man like that?’
‘A man like what? Honestly, Dorothy. He’s not an ogre!’
‘But how do you know?!’ His mother’s voice was getting louder and louder. Sebastian no longer had to strain to make out her words. ‘How can you possibly know what kind of man he is? We’ve met him once.’
‘Well, like I said before, we have to credit her with some common sense.’
His mother sighed loudly. It sounded like she might be crying but Sebastian didn’t want to turn round.
‘I’ll ring Miriam again after six. See if she’s heard anything.’
‘Good idea. And in the meantime, stop worrying. We’re supposed to be on holiday.’
After that they stopped talking about Clare. Sebastian was pleased. For someone who was never there, she did seem to cause an awful lot of bother.
He stood at the edge of the lake and looked hard into the khaki water. The shadows cast by the overhanging trees made it difficult to see but then, as his eyes focused on the dark, he could just make out the thin shapes of small fish darting in and out around each other.
‘Dad! Look, there are loads here.’ He tried to manoeuvre his net but it was just too unwieldy so he bent down and lowered the bucket into the water as slowly as he could, hoping that the fish might swim straight in. He didn’t have to wait for long. Soon two small minnows had crossed the threshold and, quick as a flash, he righted the bucket and pulled it to the surface.
‘We’d better invite some people over to the van tonight,’ his father laughed. Sebastian had no clue what he was talking about. ‘Well, we’ll never consume all that fish without help!’
‘Dad! You can’t eat them. They’re too small.’
‘Oh, leave the poor boy alone, Frank,’ laughed his mother, and Sebastian was relieved that the tears of a moment ago seemed to have dried up.
Sebastian thrust the bucket below the water line once more, hoping that more fish could be tempted to swim in before the existing captives swam out.
‘What we need,’ he said decisively, ‘is some bait.’
III
It wasn’t fish for tea in the end but bacon and a kind of fried potato mush that his mother got out of a crinkly silver packet, like food for spacemen. Anna had turned her nose up at it to start with.