The Holiday Home

18


Jem and Abi were almost late for their first day at work. Completely out of practice at waking up to an alarm, they didn’t even remember to set an alarm.

Francis woke Jeremy at seven forty-five and made him eat some cereal before handing him a packed lunch and waving him off on his bike, bleary-eyed and with shorts drooping dangerously from his hips and exposing an unfortunate amount of pants and buttocks.

‘Bye, son. Good luck,’ Francis called. Back in the kitchen he cleared the Weetabix crumbs from the table, unstacked the dishwasher and restacked the dirty cereal bowl and spoon. He made himself a cup of coffee and thought about Jeremy. He was full of paternal pride for this young man, sixteen, taller than he, but with his father’s kindness and his mother’s brains. Francis would have loved a large clutch of children. He had been an only child himself. At least Jem had Abi.

Abi? He looked up at the clock. Eight thirty-five. He’d better get her up.

Holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand, he knocked gently at her bedroom door.

‘Come in,’ called a sleepy voice.

He opened the door and saw a body shrouded in bedclothes.

‘Abi, it’s eight forty-five. You’ll be late for work.’

A small hand with green-painted fingernails poked out of the duvet and pulled it down, revealing a dozy Abi.

‘Oh,’ she managed as she watched her uncle move various makeup-stained tissues, her phone, and a dirty hairbrush to one side of her bedside table in order to find a place for the mug.

‘Why didn’t anyone wake me?’

‘Well, everyone is still asleep. Did you forget to set your alarm?’

She sank back on to the pillows, closing her eyes with a small frown. ‘Oh. Yuh. Thanks, Uncle Francis.’

‘Get up quickly and I’ll have some breakfast ready for you.’

When she came down, Francis had made her a fried-egg sandwich and a packed lunch.

‘Thanks, Unc. You’re, like, the best.’

They hugged one another and she set off across the lawn and through the private gate to the beach. He watched her go. Hair piled up in a bird’s nest, caught with a tortoiseshell comb, walking with a rumpled, exhausted pace. Lovely Abi. His favourite niece. Technically, his only niece, but he thought that even if there were other nieces she’d still be his favourite.

*

‘Hiya!’ Pearl was opening the caravan for business. Her large friendly smile welcomed Abi. ‘Take that broom and sweep the inside of the van, would you. Last night I had some kids in here with sandy feet, playing with Blue.’ The little dog lying on the armchair looked at her mistress and thumped her tail on the floor. ‘Yes, Miss Blue. They loved you, didn’t they?’ Pearl said.

‘Right, Abi. The forecast is a good ’un today. Slightly overcast, a little breeze and getting warmer as the day goes on. Perfect ice-cream weather. Exactly the way we like it. The tea urn needs filling up and heating. Ollie brought down the water containers, but I need you to keep topping it up through the day. OK?’

‘Yes. Have you got a dust pan and brush?’

‘What for?’

‘This sand I’ve swept up.’

‘Bless you, no. Sweep it straight out of the door and back to where it belongs.’

Abi swept everything out, filled up and turned on the tea urn, then sat down with Blue and tickled her ears.

‘What are you doing down there?’ asked Pearl, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t pay you to tickle the dog, not when there’s newspapers waiting to be collected.’

Abi struggled to her feet. ‘Sorry. Where do I have to go for the papers?’

‘The village shop in Higher Barton. They’ll have my order ready. Oh, and get a couple of extra puzzle books: crosswords and sudokus. Those always sell well. There’s a rucksack on the floor, carry them in that. My bike’s parked outside.’

‘I’ve got a bike at the house.’

‘OK, use your own. But wear a helmet, please!’ Pearl gave Abi a mock-stern look, then added, ‘I’m serious. These holidaymakers drive like maniacs with their big cars and roof racks.’

‘Don’t worry, I will.’

‘Good. And no hanging about in the village. I’ll see you in half an hour.’

Abi was back with a couple of minutes to spare and found Pearl already four-deep in customers.

‘Here she comes. Our newspaper girl. Abi, a Sun for Terry, please.’

Abi pulled out a copy of the Sun and passed it to the man at the head of the queue. Pearl handed him a paper cup of tea at the same time. ‘There you are, Terry. D’you want a deckchair? Abi, get Terry a deckchair, please.’

And so the day went on. Pearl knew everyone on the beach. If someone came along that she didn’t know, she’d be on first-name terms with them by the time they left. Abi was amazed at how much information people were ready to give. Their address, here on holiday and back home; who they were with; their state of health; names of children, grandchildren and dogs … everything.

In a short lull, Abi asked Pearl how she did it. ‘I’m interested, that’s all. The more special and important they feel, the more they’ll come back and spend their holiday money.’ Pearl laughed. ‘I like them, they like me, and it’s good for business. Make me a cup of tea, will you – and have one yourself.’

The afternoon got hotter and sunnier and the trade for ice creams got brisker. Abi started to master the art of scooping the ice cream and balancing it perfectly on its cone.

Children flocked to the caravan to tickle Blue and take her for walks up and down the beach. ‘Take one of my plastic bags in case she does a poo,’ instructed Pearl. The kids loved hearing her say ‘poo’ and diligently collected the steamy little bags and brought them to Pearl for inspection.

‘Bless their little hearts!’ said Pearl. Each child was given a Flake as a reward for their help.

By six o’clock, Abi’s legs and jaw muscles were aching from standing and smiling all day. Pearl was as fresh as a daisy, her lipstick freshly applied and her glowing face tanned but never shiny.

‘Right, young Abi. How do you think you’ve done today?’

Abi was surprised by the question. ‘Uh, I don’t know. I hope I’ve done OK. I really enjoyed it.’

‘Which bit did you enjoy the best?’

‘Serving the ice cream and talking to the kids.’

‘Good. Do you reckon you could do that every day till the end of August? Because, my girl, the job is yours if you want it.’

‘Oh, yes please.’ Abi hugged Pearl.

‘Excellent. Tomorrow I want you here by eight forty-five, with the newspapers. By nine I want the tea urns on and the floor swept, ready for me at nine fifteen. I’m having a lie-in. I’ll push the keys through your letter box when I close up tonight. OK?’

‘Yeah. Great!’

‘Off you go then, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

*

Abi walked into the kitchen and flopped on a chair, yawning.

‘Hi, darling. How did it go?’ asked Greg, who was pecking at the keys on his laptop, having become quite proficient in the art of one-handed typing.

‘S’all right. Knackering.’ Another theatrical yawn. ‘I’m going to have a bath.’

On the stairs she met her mother. ‘Hi, darling. How was it?’

‘It was OK. I’m so tired I’m going to have a bath.’

‘Oh, right. Supper’s at seven thirty.’

‘What are we having?’

‘Granny’s done one of her shepherd’s pies.’

‘Oh yum. Is Jem back yet?’

‘I haven’t seen him.’

Connie went to the kitchen to find Greg, who, on seeing her, quickly pressed a button that made his computer go to screen saver.

She ambled over and put her arms round his shoulders.

‘You seem to be working so hard this holiday. I’ve hardly spent any time with you.’ She kissed his head.

He flapped his broken arm in its cast. ‘It’s this thing. I feel absolutely bloody useless. You and Pru have been so busy with the house. How’s the roof looking?’

‘Not bad. The roofer seems a nice man, even if he is a friend of Merlin’s.’ She perched her bottom on the table and faced Greg. ‘He says it’ll be finished tomorrow.’

‘What about Merlin? Any news on the boiler?’

‘He says he’s ordered it and it’ll be here at the end of the week. In the meantime, the old one is at least giving us hot water and the leak under the sink has stopped.’ She ran her fingers across her neck and shoulders. ‘Fine holiday this is turning out to be. Your arm, the house … I could do with a day away from this place. Just the two of us. Can we do that?’

Greg looked at his wife. She looked exhausted. It was true: she had been working non-stop while he and Janie had been enjoying virtual sex via email. Maybe she deserved a bit of a treat.

‘What would you like to do?’

‘Nothing too complicated. A drive along the coast. Find a nice pub for lunch and sit in the sunshine. Hmm?’ She moved off the table and sat in Greg’s lap. She kissed him warmly. He put his good hand on her bottom and gave it a squeeze.

‘Why not. My wife and I are going to have a day out tomorrow.’ They kissed again, more passionately this time.

‘Get a room, can’t you?’ Abi came in with her hair wrapped in a towelling turban and wearing shortie silk pyjamas covered in pink hearts.

She picked up a magazine from the worktop and went out to the verandah where she collapsed, groaning, on to a sun lounger.

Her parents watched her. Connie giggled. ‘Drama school, do you think?’

‘They couldn’t teach her anything,’ smiled Greg.

‘Hi, guys.’ Jem walked in and swung his shoulder bag down on to the table. ‘Does my face look red?’ He crouched to examine his reflection in the toaster.

‘A bit,’ replied his aunt. ‘Did you forget to put sun cream on?’

‘Yeah. It didn’t look that sunny.’

Greg reopened his computer and started typing. ‘That’s because the sun’s rays bounce off the—’

‘—sea. Yes, I did that at school. Well, now I’ve done the control experiment and can confirm that the sun’s rays do indeed bounce off the sea and burn your bloody face to a crisp.’

‘Language, Jem.’ His mother appeared with dark circles under her eyes and a laundry basket under her arm. ‘Connie, are you making tea?’

‘Yeah.’ Connie got off Greg’s lap and stretched. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

Pru walked to the washing machine and began loading it. ‘I’m exhausted. What with Francis’s eye and the house and everything, I shall need a holiday to get over this one.’ The washing machine started whirring happily and Pru yawned before sinking into a chair. ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to take a day off tomorrow.’

Connie tightened her lips imperceptibly. ‘Tomorrow? The roofer is coming to finish off tomorrow and someone needs to be here to make sure he does.’

‘What about you?’

Greg came to the rescue. ‘Connie won’t be here. I am taking my darling wife out for the day. She deserves a rest and a treat.’

‘And you think I don’t?’

‘No, Pru. Of course you do. Perhaps you and Francis could go out the day after tomorrow?’ Greg was at his most charming. ‘Maybe even go away for the night? Mousehole or Sennen?’ Then the clincher. ‘You really deserve it.’

Connie bridled. ‘I’d like a night away too. God knows I could do with it.’

‘While you lot are making your social arrangements, is there any tea for a hard-working man of the sea?’ Poor Jem, his face glowing like a red Christmas bauble, was still standing waiting for attention.

Francis came in from the garden with a selection of herbs. ‘Hi, Jem. Golly, your face looks red. I’ll get you some after-sun. Lamb chops with fresh mint sauce and redcurrant and rosemary gravy, everybody?’

Ignoring this, Pru dived straight in: ‘Francis, we are having a day off tomorrow. We are going for a drive and lunch out.’

‘Are we?’ he replied, opening the kitchen drawer where the first-aid kit was stored. ‘That’s nice. Here, Jem, put this on.’ He handed Jeremy some calendula cream. ‘I’d love to have a day out with you.’

‘No, no,’ Connie said quickly. ‘It’s our turn tomorrow. Yours the day after.’

Greg saw his mother-in-law coming across the garden from The Bungalow and had an idea.

‘Tell you what. Why don’t we all have tomorrow off and ask Dorothy to babysit the roofer?’