“Stop it, Chris, it’s sweet,” Mum says, swatting at him. “You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be young and in love.”
“Hmmm,” Dad says. “More like I want to get going. We’re going to hit the traffic now.”
“Bye, then,” Jamie says, pulling Millie close for a cuddle. He gives her a kiss before whispering something that makes her giggle. “Love you. See you soon,” he says. “Text me later, yeah?”
“Bye,” Danny says. “Have a good time. I’ll speak to you later.”
“Is that all I get?” I say, teasingly.
Danny clears his throat. “Um, no.” He leans forward and gives me the quickest kiss possible, turning scarlet again.
From the car, Harry wolf-whistles, and Danny goes even redder as Dad frowns out of the car window.
Sometimes I can’t believe he actually gatecrashed my sister’s wedding to dedicate a song to me in front of my entire family.
“For the love of God, we’re going on a short break, not moving to flipping Siberia,” Dad says. “Break it up, you lot. Now.”
Danny leans in close. “Love you. I’ll miss you heaps,” he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my back.
“I’ll miss you too,” I tell him softly, as he drops a kiss onto my forehead.
Dad hoots the horn impatiently, making us jump.
“Harry, get out of the front seat. Amber’s going to sit there,” Mum says.
“Aw, that’s not fair. I called shotgun,” Harry whines.
“Shotgun or not, that bump of Amber’s will never fit in the back. She needs all the space she can get.”
Harry reluctantly surrenders her front seat, muttering darkly while she transfers to the back, and Clare wanders over.
“How are you feeling about the towing?” Clare asks Dad.
“Absolutely fine. It’s going to be a breeze,” Dad says, not sounding entirely convinced. He glances nervously at the caravan attached to the back of our aging Volvo, which seems tiny in comparison.
“Fantastic,” Clare says. “Right, who’s going in front? Have you got satnav?”
“Satnav?” Dad scoffs. “Who needs satnav? I’ve got an excellent sense of direction. I’ve studied the maps and know exactly where we’re going. Why don’t I go in front, because I’ll probably be a bit slower than you, and we don’t want to lose each other?”
“Sure,” says Clare, shrugging. “Whatever you want to do. Who’s coming with us? Suzy? Isabella?”
Isabella takes one look at the caravan, registers Dad’s apprehensive look, and her sense of survival clearly kicks in. “We’ll come with you,” she says.
“Do you want the front or the back seat?” I offer, kindly.
“I’ll go in the front,” Isabella says, hopping into the MPV’s passenger seat.
“Okay, I’ll get in the back with you, Mills,” I say.
Clare peers into the car. “I’m really sorry, but I’d forgotten I dumped all our stuff in the back. We’ve not got much boot space because of Murphy. I’m not sure there’s going to be enough room for both of you…”
“Couldn’t we rearrange it a bit?” I ask. “Your car’s massive. I’m sure if we jiggle some things around I’ll fit.”
“Suzy, get in, we need to leave,” Dad bellows, revving the engine.
“I’ll see you when we get there,” Millie says. “Sorry, Suze.”
Despondently, I trudge over and get into the car with the rest of my family. I’m squished in the middle between Mum and Harry.
“Ugh. It’s raining,” Harry says as we wave goodbye to Mark, Jamie and Danny.
Dad drives off nervously, the caravan snaking dangerously behind us.
Something tells me this is going to be one long journey.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Are you ever going to go at more than twenty miles per hour, Dad?” Harry asks, peering at the speedometer.
“Shhh,” Dad says, straining to see out of the windscreen. The rain is lashing down, like someone’s chucking a bucket of water at the car over and over again.
“Harry, don’t be so distracting,” Mum says. “Can’t you see Dad’s concentrating?”
“But it’s going to be dark by the time we get there,” Harry says. “And I’m bored. I’ve been sitting in this car so long the blood’s stopped flowing into my bum.”
For once, Harry is right. This journey is taking forever. Six hours and counting. We were supposed to be there for lunch. It’s now approaching teatime.
Turns out, towing a caravan is not Dad’s forte. After we set off, every time we picked up speed the caravan juddered and shook, making Dad turn all kinds of pale, so he immediately slowed down again. When we got onto the motorway, things got even worse. He stayed in the slow lane, but lorries kept overtaking us and every time they did, the caravan weaved and wobbled worryingly, shaking the entire car, and causing Dad to curse violently. I had to put my hands over Harry’s ears for a whole minute at one point. Mum had her hands over mine.
Dad’s so shaken we’ve had to stop at every other service station on the way for a cup of tea and a soothing biscuit, and so that Mum can issue words of encouragement to keep him going. Any service station he didn’t feel the need to stop at, Amber did, because she needs to pee all of the flipping time. And now we’re off the motorway, somewhere in mid-Wales, on the tiniest, windiest roads I’ve ever seen, and any minute now I think Dad’s going to start hyperventilating.
As if all that wasn’t bad enough, I suspect we’re lost. Amber’s a terrible map-reader and Dad’s sense of direction abandoned him somewhere off the M5.
Not that he’ll admit it, of course. No way.
“Keep that rat on your side,” I say to Harry as she lifts a box up to examine Hagrid.
Several hours into the journey, we discovered Harry had snuck Hagrid into the car under her jumper, but has no cage or anything for him. The rat’s currently residing in a Tupperware box with one corner of the lid left open so he can breathe.
“Do you think he’s all right?” Harry says anxiously.
“He’s stuck in a plastic box, what do you think?” Mum says. “Honestly, Harry, I don’t know what you were doing, bringing him along. We told you not to. Mark said he was perfectly happy to look after him.”
“I’d have missed him,” Harry says. “He’s happier when he’s with me. And how am I meant to do magic without my assistant?”
“I don’t know where we’re going to keep him,” Mum says. “He can’t live in that box. We’ll have to go and find a pet shop, I suppose, and get him a new cage.”
“Will you lot be quiet?” says Dad. “Amber, we’re coming up to a crossroads. It seems horribly familiar. Weren’t we here earlier?”
Amber doesn’t answer.
“Amber, which way do I need to go? Amber? AMBER?”
Amber sniffs loudly. “Hmm? I was thinking about Mark…” Tears start gushing down her cheeks again.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Dad pulls over and grabs the map book. Good job these lanes are deserted.
“While we’re stopped, I’m going to go to the loo,” Amber says, inhaling in deep, gulpy breaths. “Look away, everyone, I’m nipping behind that hedge. Pass the brolly, Mum.”
Dad’s still trying to work out which way to go when Clare appears at our window, her mac pulled tightly around her face.
“Everything okay?” she says, swiping away the rain that’s dripping off the end of her nose. “We were here earlier. We seem to have come in a big loop.”
“It’s Amber,” Mum says. “A few minor issues with the map-reading. She’s missing Mark so much she’s finding it hard to concentrate.”
“Well, why don’t you let me go in front?” Clare says. “We’re nearly there. If you give me the postcode, I’ll stick it into the satnav.”
Dad’s shoulders stiffen. “You’ve got satnav? Why didn’t you say?”
“Because you said you knew where you were going and Jen told me you hated satnavs,” Clare says. “Plus, you thou
ght it wouldn’t be that much further. But as that was an hour and a half ago, it might be a good idea if you follow us for this last bit.”
There’s a sharp intake of breath from Mum at this blatant disregard of Dad’s ability to get us to our destination.
“I know where I’m going,” Dad blusters. “Get back in your car and keep following us.”
“Really?” Clare says.
“Yes!” Dad says.
As soon as Amber’s safely back in the car, still sobbing, Dad pulls away. But when we arrive back at the crossroads for a third time, Dad admits defeat and gestures for Clare to pass. She gives a cheery toot of the horn, Dad snarls, and then we’re on the move again.
Soon Dad’s having to drive faster than he’s comfortable with to keep Clare in sight, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel to navigate through the narrow, windy roads.
“I hate this damn caravan,” he mutters through gritted teeth as a gust of wind buffets us and we all squeal with fear.
“It’ll be worth it when we get there. We’ll have a wonderful time,” Mum says. “I’m sure it can’t be that much further. Look, Clare’s indicating. We’re here!”
We all sit upright, keen to see the place we’re going to be staying. Down some kind of dirt track, and then we’ve arrived at a wooden hut. I can’t see the campsite itself – there’s a gateway shielded by overhanging trees blocking the view, but it must be in there.
A man with long hair and wafty grey beard comes out and Clare waves him over to us. He’s wearing felt trousers, with a patchwork waistcoat over a white shirt, underneath his raincoat.
“Hello there,” he says with a broad smile. “Lovely to meet you. You’re a bit later than you said you’d be. Probably down to the wonderful weather, isn’t it?” He chuckles, but then sees Dad’s stony face. “Ah, not impressed with the rain, I see. Anyway, I’m Devon. You find us okay?”
“Devon?” Harry says. “Like the place?”
“Yeah, no problems,” lies Dad, practically limp with relief that we’ve finally arrived in one piece. He’s obviously not feeling his normal self. He’s let the mention of Devon’s name slide without comment.
“Here’s your map. Park your caravan where you can find a space in the field,” Devon says, handing over a bundle of papers. “There are plenty of fire pits around, all we ask is that you don’t use kindling from the woods. We sell wood – help yourself and put some money in the honesty box,” he continues in his gentle Welsh accent. “We also sell fresh bread, milk and eggs in our shop over there. There’s information on the nearest shops in that pack I’ve given you. Mobile reception is a bit patchy, but you can use the payphone in the shop if you need to. We hire bikes, if that takes your fancy. Just come and talk to me and I’ll get you set up with wheels and helmets. What else do I need to tell you… Oh yes, we have entertainment some nights in the marquee, so keep an eye on the noticeboard for details of what’s going on. Give me a shout if I can help you with anything. Enjoy your stay!”
Hmm. What was that about mobile reception? That didn’t sound good.
But the entertainment he mentioned, that’ll be the professional musicians. Excellent. Although it’s a bit odd they’re performing in a tent, isn’t it? Anyway, I’m sure it’ll be great. Like those exclusive intimate gigs you never hear happened until afterwards. Oooh, I can’t wait.
“Where’s your internet café?” I ask, leaning forward between the two front seats.
Devon laughs. “We don’t have one.”
Say what now?
“People are usually here because they like to get away from it all,” he continues.
Really? Who wants to get away from their email and their internet? Are they mad?
“Thanks very much,” Dad says, as Devon goes over to unhook the piece of rope holding the gate shut. As we follow Clare in, I’m eager to see what the campsite’s going to be like. But all I can see in front of me is a huge field, rimmed with hedges.
It actually is just a field, with a wooden building in the middle. Scattered around the field are tents and caravans, and at one end there’s a big multi-coloured marquee.
“Well, this can’t be the right place,” I say. “It must be the basic level camping. Where’s the bit we’re staying in?”
“This is the campsite,” Mum says. “What were you expecting?”
“Something better than this,” I mutter. “And what’s that?” I point with apprehension to the hut in the middle of the field.
“Looks like the toilet and shower block to me,” Mum says.
You. Are. Freaking. Kidding. Me.
It’s like something from a prison. There’s no way on this earth I’m going in there. And just one block? For the WHOLE campsite?
I’d pay a lot of money to see Isabella’s face right now.
“If that’s the toilet, I’m going in,” Amber says. “Let me out, Dad.”
“Again?” Dad shakes his head. “You only went five minutes ago.”
“You try having two people kicking your bladder and see how you like it,” Amber retorts as she slams the car door. She’s definitely grumpier with all those hormones sloshing about in her system.
Dad parks the car over in one corner.
“Here looks good to me,” he says. “Right, you lot, macs on and get out. I need to unhook the caravan, then you can all help me move it into position.”
Dad wrestles with the tow bar for about half an hour. Eventually he gets the car and caravan separated.
“Right, let’s have everyone pushing,” Dad says. “Okay, over to the left a bit. On three. One… two… threehhuuuuhhhhhhhh…” With a huge grunt, we all heave at the caravan.
It doesn’t move.
“Hmm,” Dad says. “Let’s try that again…”
I shove as hard as I can, but nothing’s happening. Dad’s turned purple with exertion and Mum’s on the verge of bursting something. Isabella’s pushing half-heartedly with one hand, the other clutching her phone again.
“There’s no mobile reception,” she says.
“What?” Millie and I screech, stopping to grab our phones from our pockets and check the screens. We hold our phones up in the air, waving them around like crazy, twisting and turning, blinking as the rain splashes into our eyes, but there’s nothing. Not a single bar.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening! How am going to keep in contact with Danny if I’ve got no reception and no email? This is a disaster!
“Mum, we can’t use our phones,” I say.
“Jen, you have to do something,” Isabella pleads.
Mum laughs. “What do you expect me to do? Magic up a phone mast?”
“I’ll have a go, if you like,” Harry offers.
“Um, I don’t think you understand,” Isabella says. “I need my mobile. I have to contact my friends. And what if there’s an emergency? What if Mum needs to get hold of me?”
Mum shrugs. “Caro knows the name of the campsite. I told her before we left. She can phone and leave a message if she needs us. Don’t worry. You’re on holiday. It’s time to relax. Get away from it all. And that includes mobiles. We never had mobiles when we were growing up and we managed fine.”
Ugh. What’s she like? She has no idea. Of course she didn’t have a mobile when she was growing up, the dinosaurs were still roaming then.
“Anyway, there’s a payphone you can use,” Mum continues.
A payphone? Nobody’s used one of those since the dark ages.
Millie and I exchange stricken glances, while Isabella appears to be about to puke.
“What about you, Clare?” I say in a moment of inspired genius. “What if Martin needs to get hold of you?”
Clare’s expression freezes for a moment. “I’m sure he won’t. But if he needs to, he can leave a message.”
“You know what, let’s leave the caravan here,” Dad says, giving up on anyone returning to help him. “It doesn’t matter that we’re so close to the hedge.”
“All right,�
�� Mum says. “Oh look, here’s Amber. You’ve been a while. And you’re looking very pale.”
“I’m feeling a bit funny, to be honest,” Amber says.
“What’s wrong?” Mum says, rushing forward.
“I think it’s because I’m missing Mark so much,” Amber says, reaching into her bag for her phone. “I’ll give him a ring.”
“There’s no reception,” Mum tells her.
“What?” Amber shrieks, and then bursts into more hysterical tears. “How am I meant to talk to my husband? I want to go home. Right now!”
Mum pulls a face at Dad over her shoulder as she leads Amber over to the car to sit down. “There’s a payphone, don’t worry,” I hear Mum say soothingly.
As Dad bustles about trying to set things up, Millie and Isabella are still trying to get signals. Millie’s holding her phone in the air while jumping up and down.
“Nothing,” she says eventually, surrendering with a sigh.
“This is like living in the Stone Age or something,” I say. “How do my parents expect us to survive in these circumstances?”
Millie laughs. “It’ll be fine. There are phones. Retro old-school-type ones. Anyone fancy exploring?”
Isabella shakes her head. “I think I’ve seen all I need to.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Got him,” Millie says, breathing heavily as she joins us in the awning. She’s soaking wet, and clutching a downcast Murphy by the collar. He ran off about twenty minutes ago, and has been circling the camping field at speed, barking ecstatically and ignoring all shouts to return.
“You said he’d be kept under control,” Dad says darkly.
“He’ll be good, don’t worry,” Millie replies. “He just got a bit overexcited after being in the car so long and wanted to stretch his legs. It won’t happen again.”
“Does it always rain like this?” Isabella says, wrinkling her nose distastefully. “At home I would be sunbathing by the pool. Does this place even have a pool?”
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