“The weather’s the fun of a British summer,” Mum says. “You never know what you’re going to get. You watch, it’ll be boiling tomorrow.”
“Really?” Isabella says. “And then we can find the pool?”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath on either count,” I mutter.
Isabella frowns in my direction.
“Well, at least the caravan’s in place and we’re all set up now,” Mum says. She’s determined to remain optimistic, despite everyone being cold and wet and cross. “Would anyone like a cuppa?”
A few minutes later there’s a shout from inside the caravan. “Chris, where’s the bag with all the mugs, glasses and plates in?” she asks.
“I put everything you gave me into the caravan,” Dad shouts back. “It should be there somewhere.”
“I’m sure I gave it to you…” we hear Mum say, then the sound of doors and drawers being opened and closed. Eventually she sticks her head out.
“I can’t find the mugs. I think they might have been left behind.”
Everyone groans. A vision of Bojangles’ steaming hot chocolate pops into my head, and my mouth waters. I would kill for one of those right now.
“I can find teabags, milk, coffee and sugar, but nothing to put them in,” Mum continues. “We’ll have to go out and get some cheap crockery in the morning, Chris.”
“You packed half the house and now we don’t even have a spoon to our name?”
“I need a cage for Hagrid, so we have to go out to get that, anyway,” Harry reminds them both. Hagrid’s been set up in a cardboard box in the corner of the awning. Isabella’s eyes keep flicking in that direction.
“There you are,” Mum says. “We can pick up some new crockery at the same time.”
“And there was me thinking this was supposed to be a bargain holiday,” mutters Dad.
“We can pick up plastic bits and pieces cheaply enough from a supermarket,” Mum says.
“Are we seriously not supposed to drink anything until we buy some mugs?” Dad asks.
“Stop being so difficult,” Mum says. “Of course you can drink. Just not a hot drink. You’ve got a water bottle, haven’t you? Now, let’s get the beds set up. That’ll warm us up if we can’t have tea.”
“Where am I sleeping?” asks Harry.
“Well, Clare’s bought a tent, and there’s room in the awning, so you four can work it out between you. Dad and I are in the caravan with Clare and Amber,” Mum says.
“Goodo,” Dad says.
“And don’t forget Crystal Fairybelle,” Amber adds. “She has to sleep with me, in my bed. She’s my only reminder of Mark now.”
“He’s not dead!” Dad says in exasperation. “Stop talking like he is. We’re only away for a few days, not a lifetime.”
“Sorry,” Amber sniffs. “It’s just, I miss him so much. It feels like forever since I saw him.”
“Come on now, love,” Mum says. “We’ll have a great time, and the days will fly by. You’ll see him again soon.”
Amber nods bravely.
“We should try to put your tent up before it starts pouring again,” Clare says to Millie.
“Can I sleep in the tent with you, Millie?” Isabella asks quickly.
I stare at her. Um, say what now? Millie’s my best friend. Obviously I’m going to be sleeping in the tent with her. What’s going on here?
Millie shoots me a glance. “Erm… I kind of thought I’d be with Suze.”
“Oh. Right. Never mind,” Isabella says. “We had such a laugh in the car on the way down here, I hoped…”
I’d wanted to share with Millie by myself, but don’t want to be mean and have Isabella feel pushed out. I can completely understand why she doesn’t want to share with Harry. Who would?
“I’m sure we can all fit,” I say generously. “We could squish the airbeds together.”
“Not with Murphy coming in, too,” Millie says.
Isabella looks horrified. Hah. Now she’s torn. Risk being stuck in the awning with Harry, or in the tent with Millie and sleep in close proximity to her insane mutt? And Murphy trumps like anything in his sleep. I’ve spent enough sleepovers at Millie’s house to know that canine is seriously toxic.
“I’m very sorry, but I don’t think I can share a tent with Suzy,” Isabella says. “It’s her snoring… I’ll never get any sleep.”
Ouch. That’s harsh.
“That’s okay,” I shrug. “I’ll share with Millie, in the tent out there. You can have the awning, with Harry. You won’t hear my snoring from here.”
Hah. That’s you outsmarted.
Isabella looks around her. “In here? Er, no, I don’t think that’s going to work. I’m really sorry.” She smiles prettily, then forces another sneeze. “But there’s no way I can share with that rat. I’ve got allergies, remember?”
Gnargh! She is such a faker! She’s totally using this made-up allergy thing to get her own way.
“Murphy’s in with Millie,” I point out. “Won’t that upset your allergies?”
“Nope,” Isabella says. “Only small mammals. I’m fine with dogs.”
Oh, come on. Are people seriously buying this? How can she be allergic to a tiny little rat but not a massive mutt? I’m not convinced she even has an allergy. Seems to me she doesn’t want to sleep in this awning.
“I’m sorry, Suzy, but if Isabella can’t sleep when you’re snoring nearby, and Hagrid’s going to make her ill, she’s going to have to go in the tent with Millie,” Mum says.
“But—” I start.
“Isabella, you go with Millie,” Mum says. “We can revisit the situation in a few days, and change around then if we need to. But right now, let’s get these tents up, and some food on. The sun’s coming out, look.”
Isabella and Millie smile at each other and I get a funny pang rippling through my body. Part of me wants to stamp my feet and shout, ‘But Millie’s my friend!’
Why do I have to be stuck in the stupid awning with Harry?
Then I have a brainwave.
“Can’t Hagrid go in the caravan with you?” I say. “Then I can share with Millie, and Isabella can share with Harry.”
“Nooooo!” wails Harry. “Hagrid has to stay with me. He has to.”
“And if you think I’m sleeping in with that damn rat keeping me awake all night you’ve got another think coming,” Dad says. “We’ve already got the dog in there.”
“In that case, I don’t think there’s anything else we can do,” Mum says, apologetically. “Millie and Isabella are in the tent with Murphy, and Harry and Suzy are in the awning. Here are your airbeds, girls. Chris, where did you put the foot pump?”
“Foot pump?” Dad says. “I haven’t seen the foot pump.”
“You must have done,” Mum said. “It was by the door, next to the bag of crockery…” Her voice trails off.
“Aw, Mum, don’t tell me we forgot that too,” says Harry.
Mum glances at Dad. “I haven’t seen the foot pump,” he says again.
“Clare? I don’t suppose you bought one along, did you?”
“’Fraid not,” Clare says. “I assumed you guys would have one. Sorry.”
“Right. You lot had better get blowing, then,” Dad says.
Inflating the airbeds takes forever, and requires all of us, plus several more lungs than we have access too.
“After all that, I need a beer,” Dad says. “At least we remembered those.” He grabs a can and pops it open, taking a grateful sip.
“Mum, I’m starving,” Harry says.
Actually, now she mentions it, I’m starving too.
“Well, I’d brought pasta for tonight, but that’s going to be a bit tricky without plates,” Mum says. “So sandwiches it is, I guess. Harry, go and ask Devon if he’s got any crockery and cutlery he could let us borrow for the night.”
Harry whines for a bit, but then goes off and returns a short time later clutching a cup, a plate, a fork, a knife and a spoon.
&nbs
p; “That’s all he could spare?” Dad says. “There are eight of us! What are we meant to do, share?”
“He said he’d leant out all his spares and they never come back,” Harry says with a shrug. “This was all he had left. Sorry. Millie, he also said Murphy had to stay on the lead at all times.”
“He will, he will,” Millie says, patting Murphy’s furry head.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Murphy was smirking.
CHAPTER TEN
Later that evening, Millie and I are piling on macs, wellies and various other waterproofs to trudge across the field and ring the boys.
“It’s still pouring,” I say, peering out into the gloom.
“It’s only a bit of rain, Suze,” Millie says.
“Rain that will cause my hair to go into frizz overdrive,” I point out. I tug the toggles of my hood together tightly, and make sure every single curl is carefully tucked underneath. “And that’s no normal rain. It’s like a monsoon or something. None of this would be a problem if we’d actually come to somewhere with flipping mobile reception. I hope Danny and Jamie appreciate this.”
“Think of it as an adventure,” Millie says. “Are you coming?” she asks Isabella.
“No chance,” Isabella says, looking up from her deckchair. She’s been engrossed in Vogue for the past half hour.
“Don’t blame you,” Millie says. “We won’t be long. And then I want to have a look at that mag with you.”
Ugh. I don’t know how anyone can read Vogue. It’s so freaking dull. Half of it is adverts and the other half is stick insects modelling clothes that nobody can afford.
Well. Having seen a glimpse of Isabella’s life from her photos, maybe she can.
Holding hands, Millie and I run squealing into the rain. Mills does a quick detour to knock on the window of the car boot and blow Murphy a kiss. He’s been banished there after eating both of Dad’s trainers.
“Do you even know how to use one of these things?” Millie asks, poking at the payphone in the shop suspiciously with her finger.
I drop some money into the phone and dial Danny’s number. It rings a couple of times before he answers.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s me,” I say.
“Who?”
“Me!” I say again.
“Um, I’m sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
And then I realise. He doesn’t know who I am!
Okay, it’s not my usual number, but I’m a teeny bit hurt he didn’t recognise my voice. I’ve only been gone since this morning and it’s like he’s forgotten me already.
“It’s Suzy,” I say.
“Oh, Suze, hi,” Danny says. “I’m sorry. What’s up with your mobile? You lost it again?”
“No mobile reception here,” I say. “Ringing from a payphone.”
“Bummer. So how is it there? Nice campsite?”
“Wet. Very, very wet. How’s it going with you? You miss me?”
“Course,” Danny says. “Yeah, all right mate, I’m coming,” he says to someone in the background.
“You hanging with Jamie?” I ask.
“Yeah. We’re in Bojangles.”
“Bojangles?” I say, confused. “Isn’t it shut?”
“Ha, ha, oh yeah,” Danny says hastily. “Um, I meant Tastee Burga.”
How on earth did he manage to get those two places confused?
“Suze, I’m really sorry, but my battery’s about to die.”
All hopes of a long chat evaporate in a flash.
“Oh,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. “Before you go, we’re going to have to sort out a time to talk tomorrow, okay? Now we’re going to have to use this payphone we’ll need to plan a bit better.”
“Yeah, sure. I don’t really know what I’m going to be up to. So whenever will be fine. I’ve really got to go. Miss you, okay? Speak tomorrow.”
“Bye…” I say, and then the phone line goes dead.
Well, that was all kinds of weird.
Millie rings Jamie, but she’s not on the phone to him long, either.
“Did Jamie sound a bit… odd to you?” I ask as we head back to the caravan, passing Amber on the way, who’s off to call Mark for the fourth time since we arrived.
“Hmm?” Millie says, dodging a puddle. “Odd how?”
“I dunno. Just not saying much. Danny confused Tastee Burga with Bojangles.”
“Um, yeah, I suppose now you mention it, he did sound a bit weird.”
“What do you think’s going on?”
“Going on?” Millie laughs. “Nothing’s going on. How paranoid are you? They’re probably in the middle of that stupid dilemma game. You know what they’re like.”
“I guess,” I say, as we duck back into the awning.
The next morning we’re woken up at the crack of dawn by the sound of Murphy howling from inside Millie’s tent. Seems he’s no happier about camping than the rest of us.
“I’m so sorry, the noise of the rain on the canvas was freaking him out,” Millie says apologetically as we stand around in the caravan, yawning and eating our toast.
Only Amber can have cereal, because there’s just the one bowl. And she wins because she’s pregnant, and luxury muesli was exactly what she was craving.
Convenient, no?
“Never mind,” says Mum, who is still determined that we will enjoy caravanning, even if it kills us. “The morning is the best part of the day. This way we get to make the most of our time here.”
There’s a dismissive grunt from the bed at the far end of the caravan. Dad’s refused to get up and is lying with the duvet over his head.
“Mum, I’m getting pains,” Amber says, grabbing her tummy with a scared look on her face.
“Are you all right?” Mum says in alarm.
“I’m not sure,” Amber says. “It really hurts.”
“We should get her to a hospital,” Mum says.
“Hospital?” Dad says, his voice muffled. “What for? I’m sure she’s fine. She’s had this a lot, and every time they’ve said there’s nothing to worry about. She’s got a few growing pains, that’s all. You had them during your pregnancies, I remember them well. You worried every time then, too, but everything was always fine.”
“But I never carried twins,” Mum says. “Twins are different. Riskier. We need to get her to a doctor so she can be examined.”
“But I’m supposed to be resting on holiday,” Dad protests. “I’m still hoping for this lot to clear off so I can get some more sleep.”
“Why don’t you lie down for a bit and see how you feel in half an hour?” Clare says to Amber. “We’ll turn the table back into the bed for you, and go and eat in the awning.”
For the next thirty minutes, Mum hovers anxiously by Amber, checking her watch constantly.
“How do you feel now?”
“I’ve still got the pains,” Amber says. “I’m scared, Mum.”
“Then we’re going to the hospital. Chris, get dressed.”
“I don’t even know where the hospital is,” Dad says.
“We’ll ask Devon on the way out,” Mum says. “Clare, can we borrow your satnav? No arguments from you,” she says firmly to Dad. “Clare will keep an eye on things. We’ll get crockery and the other bits while we’re out. Once the shops open, that is.”
“And a new cage for Hagrid?” Harry says. “And some food and bedding and a water bottle?”
“So now we’re having to buy a whole new rat start-up kit?” Dad says, as he clambers out of bed. “You’re paying us back, kiddo.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” Mum says, pulling the curtain across so Dad can get dressed. “Right now, let’s get Amber seen to. Hurry up, Chris. Ready? Then let’s go. If we’re a while, sort out some food for lunch, would you, Clare?”
“But how will we know what time you’ll be back?” Clare calls.
“We’ll text you,” Mum calls out of the car window.
“There’s no rec
eption,” we all call after them. I don’t think they hear us.
“I’m going to go read my book,” Clare tells us. “If you could try not to disturb me for the next half hour or so that would be great. It’s got really exciting and I want to find out what happens at the end.”
“Are you going to ring Dad today?” Millie asks. “You haven’t called him yet, have you?”
“Um, no, not yet,” Clare replies. “I’ll speak to him later. Why don’t you guys go and have a wander around? Get some fresh air. Just don’t go too far.”
As she closes the door behind her, Millie, Isabella, Harry and I all stare at each other.
“It’s not even nine yet,” Isabella says. “I’m never up this early. I’m going back to bed.”
It’s late afternoon when Mum, Dad and Amber finally get back and we’ve had the most boring first day imaginable, because of the unending rain. We’ve passed the time playing a billion hands of Uno, which is the only game Mum appears to have bought with us.
Crazy times, people.
“We were starting to get worried,” Clare says, as we go out to greet them. “Everything all right?”
“What, you mean apart from having to do a two and a half hour round trip, then sitting in A & E for an hour, only to be seen by a doctor for ten minutes who told us Amber probably has indigestion but needs monitoring for hours just to be sure?” Dad huffs.
“It could have been anything,” Mum says, as Amber hefts herself out of the car. “It’s better to be safe than sorry where babies are concerned.”
“Not to mention having to look all over town for hours trying to find a flipping pet shop, and somewhere to get plastic cutlery and crockery,” Dad continues. He’s clearly on a roll. “And finding somewhere Amber would agree to eat.”
“I didn’t know what I wanted,” Amber says. “And actually, now I come to think of it, I’m hungry again. And tired. I think I’m going to go and have something to eat, then a sit down.”
“You do what you need to, love,” Mum says. “It’s important you rest.”
“I thought of some new names while we were out,” Amber says, grabbing a huge bag of crisps from the cupboard. “What do you think of Cloud and Storm? Or Phoenix and Flame? For boys, obviously.”
Suzy P and the Trouble with Three Page 8