The Happy Glampers

by Daisy Tate

  ‘You can do anything if you’re Charlotte,’ Izzy said, not bothering to look up as she teased her fork into the gooiest part of the cake.

  ‘They’ve certainly got you pegged,’ Rocco said in that low, sotto-voce voice of his as his fingers brushed against hers.

  As much as she loved her children, it was the perfect weekend for their father to make good on a visit. Apparently he was back in his old room at his parents’ house as he and Xanthe were on a break.

  ‘Rocco,’ Emily pointed her finger at him while she finished swallowing a forkful of cake. ‘You have no idea how lucky you are.’

  ‘Oh, I’m beginning to get a pretty good idea.’ The way he said it made Charlotte’s tummy do fizzy things.

  ‘Well, if you don’t, we’re going to learn you up fast, laddie!’ Freya gave them both a deeply protective smile. If ever Charlotte had thought she might have a sister from another mother somewhere out there, that smile was all the proof she needed.

  Through mouthfuls of cake, they quizzed Rocco about the farm, Lachlan, and the shop.

  Great, good and couldn’t be better. The wink he gave Charlotte on that last bit made her blush straight up to her roots.

  After they’d eaten their fill, Emily leant back in her chair. ‘Oof,’ she glanced at her watch. ‘It’s getting harder and harder to leave each weekend.’

  ‘So, don’t,’ Freya said.

  ‘Uhhh …’ Emily made her derrrr face. ‘I have a job, aging parents, a girl—’ She stopped herself.

  ‘Why, Ms Emily Cheung. Were you going to say you had a girlfriend?’ Izzy looked like the Cheshire Cat.

  ‘Maybe I was. Maybe I wasn’t.’ Emily pinched Izzy’s arm.

  ‘Owww! I have cancer, don’t do that!’ They play-fought for a minute and then stopped when Izzy’s elbow cracked against the table and she actually did hurt herself.

  She rubbed at it while Emily fussed and Freya talked over them about the healing power of arnica.

  Charlotte felt like she was in the world’s best time machine. One with a future.

  ‘I mean it, Emms,’ Izzy said once they’d determined her elbow was fine. ‘You should stay.’

  ‘What? Here? What would I do here?’

  Now it was Izzy’s turn to make her derrrr face. ‘Work at one of the hospitals. Work at the University Hospital. That would be hilarious. Get back to the old stomping ground. Show’em what the old Cheung-meister has got up to in London Town. Can I hear a hells to the yeah?’ She lifted her hands up to raise the roof.

  Emily made a show of rolling her eyes, but … yes … they could all see the possibility of a relocation grow.

  Izzy clapped her hands again. ‘Emily’s moving to Bristol!!’

  ‘Am not.’ Emily was grinning.

  ‘Are too.’ So was Izzy.

  Charlotte opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Prosecco. ‘I know it’s a bit early in the afternoon, but … would it be too early to do a toast to all of us being back in the same place?’

  Emily didn’t say no, which they all took as a yes.

  Rocco did the honours with the cork, but stepped back as Charlotte, Emily, Izzy and Freya all lifted their glasses and chimed, ‘To Bristol!’

  Yes, thought Charlotte, as she drank her fizz. To Bristol, where it all began.

  ‘To us!’ Izzy lifted her glass again.

  They all cheered and chimed, ‘To us!’

  To us, thought Charlotte, and to whatever the future may have in store.

  Charlotte’s Lemon Drizzle Cake (for sharing with friends … no plates required, annotations by Freya)

  Cake!

  175g unsalted butter (organic if poss – remember Rocco) – if you only have salted … don’t add the salt later on

  175g caster sugar (FairTrade if poss – looks a lovely golden colour)

  3 large eggs (free range if poss)

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  Zest of 2 (to 3, depending upon how tangy you like it) unwaxed lemons

  175g self-raising flour

  Pinch of salt (squish it well if you’re using sea salt flakes)

  2–3 tablespoons of milk if it’s too thick (from your local dairy)

  (NB: If you want to do a traybake, double everything except the cooking time!)

  The Drizzle

  100g soft golden sugar or caster sugar – your call (I do it half and half)

  Juice of 2–3 lemons, depending on how gooey you want it to be and how juicy they are. (Give these a roll around with your hand to release all of that juice)

  *Go mad and use 150g sugar and 3–4 lemons if you like it crazy gooey

  How to make cake:

  1) Heat oven to 180°C fan 160°C/gas mark 4

  2) Beat together butter, sugar and HALF of the lemon zest until beautifully pale and creamy (with dreamy flecks of yellow zest)

  3) Add eggs one at a time, ensuring they are fully mixed through

  4) Sift in the self-raising flour, baking powder and salt. Give mixture a few good whizzes with the mixer or your spoon to ensure flour is fully incorporated (but not overwhipped)

  5) Line a loaf tin (8 x 21cm) or whatever you have because it’s the cake that matters, not the shape, right? Pour in mixture and level the top (but it doesn’t have to be perfect)

  6) Bake for 40–50 minutes (you know your oven). Thin skewer or knife should come out clean at the end and cake should have a little bounce when you touch it (because you know you want to, right?)

  7) While the cake is cooling, mix that lemon juice, remaining lemon zest and caster or golden sugar to make the drizzle. While the cake is still warm (this is critical!), poke holes all over the top of the warm cake (knife, chopstick, skewer, be careful if you’re using your finger because … hot cake!). Pour drizzle over and wait for cake to absorb before pouring on more (remember – one end extra-gooey for Izzy, one end with only a bit for Freya)

  8) Note: If you’re short on lemons and rich in friends – use whatever citrus you have to hand. Orange is fab. Lime is a delight. I’ve never tried pineapple, but there’s always room to explore

  9) Enjoy with friends

  Acknowledgements

  If this was a pop-up book, at this juncture a very long scroll would unfurl with a squillion names on it going back to primary school. Earlier. Birth. Thank you Mum and Dad for having me. And thank you for bringing us camping. A lot. What a fecund pool of material to draw from. This book has been such a great joy to write for many reasons, not least of which because it rekindled a fabulous friendship with the glorious Jackie N. Thank you for all of your honest insight. Lady W – muchos gracias for the fashion advice. You are, and shall forever be, my Coco. Netts – you are, as ever, a wonder. You are made of kindness and all of the other lovely things. Beth – you read the earliest, most painful drafts of this and still had nice things to say, so thank you. Darcy – again, thank you for your honesty and insight. You iz most helpful. JP and Mich – your friendship, that chicken soup and those pickles were a godsend. Never before has shampoo been more gratefully received. Natasha, bless you for the Zencils. They made all the difference. James – thank you for the insight into the amorous tiers of lawful luvvin’. Most interesting. Christine and Pam – you’re tremendous cheerleaders. Mwah. Sue and Stu! You made real-life glamping extra fun. Sarah L – thank you for lunch and illuminating me on just what it takes to pack a large family up for a weekend under canvas. Exhausting. To my agent, Jo Bell, who is not only marvellous at reading small print, but who is tremendously talented at reminding me about which small stuff to sweat and which big stuff to get on with and achieve. A heartfelt thanks to you. To the team at HarperCollins for making this twinkle of an idea a reality, especially that transcendentally superpowered Kate Bradley, my amazing faith-filled, patient, inspirational and acutely insightful editor. Thank you for believing in me. Lucy Gilmour, you certainly know how to polish a rough diamond. Merci mille fois! Great love to Grissom and Jorja who began this journey with me and to Skye who picked up the
ir batons. And, of course, to my sweet beloved husband. Without you … well … that’s not really worth thinking about is it? Bring on the marshmallows!

  If you enjoyed Happy Glampers, keep reading for a sneak peek at Daisy’s next book A Bicycle Made For Sue

  Incident No – 38928901

  Time of Call: 11:43

  Call Handler: SUE YOUNG

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Sue and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yeah, hi. Ouch. Ooo. Buggerbuggerbugger! [groan of pain]

  Call Handler: Sorry, umm … sorry, hello? You’re through to the NHS 111 service. Are you calling for yourself?

  Caller: Yes. [sharp inhalation]

  Call Handler: I’m Sue. May I have your name please?

  Caller: It’s Carol. [muted swearing]

  Call Handler: Hello, Carol. How can I help?

  Caller: Not sure.

  Call Handler: Do you believe you need medical care? [No response.] Carol? Can you hear me? Carol?

  Caller: I’m here. You alright?

  Call Handler: Oh, phew. I thought the line had gone. I’m well. Thank you for asking. Carol, can you tell me why you’re ringing today? Are you suffering with your breathing at all?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Do you require a doctor?

  Caller: I might.

  Call Handler: Can you explain why you are ringing today?

  Caller: I’ve stubbed my toe.

  Call Handler: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Have you stubbed it badly?

  Caller: No, but it’s sore.

  Call Handler: I’ll bet it is. Is there anyone there with you Carol?

  Caller: Yes.

  Call Handler: Good. Can they help you if you require any assistance?

  Caller: It’s my cat.

  Call Handler: Okay. Well … Carol is there anything I can help you with now? [No response] Carol, perhaps it would be a good idea to make an appointment with your GP? Are you registered with someone locally?

  Caller: I just wanted someone to know I was in pain.

  Call Handler: I understand.

  Caller: Do you? Do your really? [ends call]

  Call Handler: Carol? Oh. She’s hung up. Are we meant to ring them back if they hang up? What? A stubbed toe. Okay. I’ll leave it there then. What’s that? I’ve not ended the call? Ithought I pressed the — Ah. This one? You’d think I’d’ve got the hang of it by now, thank you. Raven was it? Raven. Good. I’m Sue. Sorry? Yes. Of course. I’ll just push—

  Incident No – 5938272

  Date of Call: 24.01.2020

  Time of Call: 17:23

  Call Handler: SUNITA ‘RAVEN’ CHAKRABARTI

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Raven and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yes, hello. Umm … sorry … I’m calling about myself. I’ve just had my tea …

  Call Handler: Okay. Are you alright?

  Caller: [No response]

  Call Handler: Can you tell me your name please?

  Caller: It’s Reg.

  Call Handler: Alright, Reg. What can I help you with? [No response] Reg, do you require a doctor?

  Caller: I was hoping I might have a slice of cake.

  Call Handler: Sorry?

  Caller: Yeah, well … I’ve had my tea. Is it alright?

  Call Handler: Is what alright?

  Caller: I was wanting to have a slice of cake.

  Call Handler: I’m sorry, Reg. I’m not understanding what you’re asking. [No response.’ Reg? Is there a medical situation I can help you with? [No answer] Reg? I’m just going to put you on hold for a moment. [Muffled laughter]

  Caller: [Angry noises] I TOLD YOU! I WANT TO HAVE A SLICE OF CAKE!

  Call Handler: Alright, mate. Okay.

  Caller: I’m not your mate. I’m asking permission to have a slice of cake!

  Call Handler: Are you a diabetic?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is there any reason you shouldn’t have the cake?

  Caller: I ate my vegetables.

  Call Handler: Well done. What type of cake is it?

  Caller: Chocolate. With sprinkles on it.

  Call Handler: I’d say go for it, then.

  Caller: [Silence]

  Call Handler: Reg? Reg are you there?

  Caller: [Sound of china and cutlery]

  Call Handler: Buh-bye, then. Welcome to 111, may I take your order please? Would you like me to super size that, sir? Oh, shit. I thought I’d – Cheers. Normally I press the mute button before I —

  Incident No – 5278374

  Date of Call: 31.01.2020

  Time of Call: 19:11

  Call Handler: FLORENCE WILSON

  Call Handler: You’re through to the NHS 111 service, my name’s Flo and I’m a health advisor. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: Yes, sorry. This isn’t technically an emergency, but I think I might need an ambulance.

  Call Handler: Those are usually 999 calls, love, but let’s see if I can help. Are you calling about yourself or someone else?

  Caller: It’s for my husband.

  Call Handler: Is he breathing?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is he conscious?

  Caller: No. As I said, it’s not urgent. But it’s quite … umm … I am pretty certain I will need an ambulance.

  Call Handler: I’m going to transfer you to one of our on-site clinicians who will talk you through giving CPR. What’s your name, love?

  Caller: Sue. Sue Young.

  Call Handler: Sue? Blonde hair, lovely jumper with the spangledy heart on it? It’s me, Flo.

  Caller: Sorry, I —

  Call Handler: It’s Flo Wilson, sweetheart. I took over your desk at shift change.

  Caller: Oh, sorry. Yes hello. The turnover there is so fast, I – Did I leave everything alright? The headset was acting up a bit earlier—

  Call Handler: Sue, love. It sounds like you should’ve dialed 999. I think you might be suffering from a bit of shock. Was it a familiar voice you were after, Sue? [No response]. Sue? Sue, do you know how to give CPR?

  Caller: Yes.

  Call Handler: Are you giving compressions now?

  Caller: I – no – I [rapid breathing]

  Call Handler: Sue, darlin’. Stay calm. We need to focus on resuscitation. If you can, start giving him compressions. Do you remember the video we saw? [sings] Staying alive … staying alive … I’m waving like a mad woman at the clinician. He’s just wrapping up another call and can see I need him urgently. [Strange noise from caller] Oh, struth. It sounds like you’re having a bit of a panic, there, love. Take a deep breath. We’ll do one together. That’s right. Keep taking those slow deep breaths while we wait for him to jog over. Why not think of that lovely coffee cake you brought in earlier? So beautiful, all of those delicate little flowers you made. I’m all store bought, me. Not a talented cooking bone in my body. That’s right. Deep breaths. Here we go duck. He’s heading this way now. While he gets his headset on, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so we can get you some proper help right away.

  Caller: It’s Gaz. My Gary, he –

  Call Handler: Are you giving him compressions, Sue?

  Caller: No.

  Call Handler: Is there someone there who can?

  Caller: No. It’s just the two of us. Always has been.

  Call Handler: Is there any reason why you’re not giving him compressions, darlin’?

  Caller: Well … He’s dead.

  Chapter One

  ‘Let’s wrap these up, shall we? You might want them for your tea.’

  Sue’s mother nodded in that perfunctory, no-nonsense manner she had perfected through the years. A quick nod, a press of the lips and a follow up nod that settled the matter.

  For the first time in her life, Sue wanted to slap the look right off o
f her mother’s face. A bit of a shocker considering she generally preferred it when decision making was taken out of her hands as it had been most of her life. Not those curtains Sue, they’ll show the dust. A call centre? Oh Suey, you wouldn’t want to work there, what would people think? Marry that Young, lad? Honestly. You’d best be shot of him. He’ll bring nothing but sorrow, Suey. Nothing but pain.

  For the past three weeks her mother had been hard at it. Making decisions for her. Apparently that’s what happened when planning your husband’s funeral suddenly seemed too much and you moved back into your parent’s and had always been the lesser of two children, her older brother Dean having taken the role of favoured child quite some time ago.

  You’ll sleep in Dean’s old room, but try not to change things about will you? I’ve turned yours into my sewing room because of the light. If the little ones are needing it for a sleepover, we might shift you to the pull out in the lounge.

  You won’t want to watch that programme, duck, it’ll depress you.

  You’ll not want too fancy a coffin seeing as it’ll be burnt straight away.

  Yes, sometimes her mother’s bossiness was useful. Today it filled her with rage. She’d just been widowed. She didn’t want limp, pub wake sandwiches to take home for a midnight snack. She wanted her husband back.

  Just as quickly as the instinct to lash out flared, it sputtered and disappeared. Who was she to make grand pronouncements on how someone should and shouldn’t behave? Her mother’s fussing always escalated when she was uncomfortable and having a son-in-law who’d ended his life was certainly pushing a lot of buttons. Sue, like her father, became more still, as if the prospect of having to select one solitary choice out of the thousands of options available rendered her inert. Like choosing what clothing Gary would like to wear in perpetuity. She’d let her mother pick in the end.

  ‘I’ll put the white bread ones aside for you, shall I?’ Bev was already plucking out the white triangles from amongst the brown triangles. ‘Your father doesn’t have the stomach for it. Dean never was one for sandwiches and Katie won’t let the children touch white of course, so …’