had come down. What were you doing sleeping in there?’ Jack’s voice was harsh.
‘Don’t get cross with me,’ said Beth. ‘It’s my cottage, I can sleep in it if I want to.’ Who the hell was Jack Selby to tell her what she could and couldn’t do? She’d had enough of that from Nick. She didn’t need a virtual stranger doing it too. Doris bounded over but after a few sniffs of Leo’s pyjama leg she dashed off back towards the marquee, probably one of the few structures that made her feel small.
Jack huffed and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘What are you going to do now?’
Beth shrugged. ‘Go back to the B&B, I expect.’ And she started to head off again with Leo in tow.
‘The B&B is full. So is the pub and so are most places. It’s August bank holiday weekend,’ said Jack, the frustration evident in the tone of his voice.
Bugger, thought Beth.
‘Here,’ said Jack, tossing her a set of keys, which she instinctively caught. ‘Go round to mine, get yourselves showered and changed and something to eat. I’ve got at least another hour here setting up the Summer Fete.’ He waved a thumb at the green behind him and the small group of men of varying ages that had formed a small crowd and were gawping in their direction.
Beth hated being told what to do, she’d had enough of it and now it made her hackles rise. ‘No, we’re fine, thanks.’ She threw back the keys.
‘Don’t be daft. Look at the two of you. Otherwise, what are you going to do?’
Beth didn’t have an answer. Her brain sped up but nothing plausible sprang to mind. ‘We could dry out in the car with the car heater on.’
‘Then what?’ Jack put a hand on his hip and frowned.
Beth shook her head. ‘Oh, give me the sodding keys then,’ she mumbled, snatching them back.
‘Have you got a telly?’ asked Leo, raising his head hopefully.
‘Yep,’ said Jack, looking a little puzzled by the question. ‘It’s the cream cottage, just up there,’ he pointed to the road that led out of the village. ‘Next to the Old Police House. You can’t miss it.’
‘Thanks,’ said Beth gratefully, but Jack was already jogging back to join the ogling group on the green.
‘Morning,’ waved Beth. She might as well brazen it out. There were mumbled responses and the group dispersed.
Jack gave a fleeting smile as she and Leo scuttled past.
‘Can we go to the fete, Mum? Please?’
‘Yes, I think that will be just the thing to cheer us up.’ She’d had enough of Willow Cottage for the time being, that was for certain.
Carly breathed in the damp air as she stood outside the treehouse and tried to stay calm. ‘What do you mean we’re going on a hike?’ asked Carly. ‘Everything is soaked after last night’s colossal rainfall.’
‘Yes, but it’ll be fun.’
‘No, it won’t.’ Carly needed the toilet but there was no way she was using the khazi, as it had now been termed much to Fergus’s amusement.
‘Come on, Carls. It’s sunny and once you get in the fresh air …’
‘Fresh air? It smells of sheep poo! Where exactly are we going?’ Perhaps there was a purpose to the hike, thought Carly, and her interest improved slightly.
‘Dunno,’ shrugged Fergus. ‘Thought we could have a wander …’
‘And what about tonight?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes, what’s happening tonight?’ asked Carly, tilting her head in expectation.
‘Dunno. Find a pub? What do you want to do?’
‘So you’ve got nothing planned, then?’ Carly leaned forward slightly as she spoke, keen to catch every nuance in Fergus’s response.
‘Nope. It’s a free and easy weekend.’ Fergus gave a toothy boyish grin.
‘Grrr!’ said Carly, there wasn’t a sign for that but her expression said it all. ‘Well, I’m not staying here. It’s not luxury, there’s no gourmet food, and you’re … you’re not doing anything!’ She ran out of steam.
Fergus signed his reply very slowly. ‘It’s a treehouse.’
‘I know it’s a sodding treehouse, and I’ve had enough of it and its stinking khazi!’
Carly stomped back inside, threw the few things she’d unpacked into her bag and stormed out with Fergus close behind. She was muttering to herself as she reached the bottom step and diligently stomped across the field trying to avoid the sheep poo.
‘Please don’t walk off, Carls. I hate it when I can’t see what you’re saying.’
She turned briefly. ‘I’m going home!’ she shouted, and felt her foot skid as she stepped on a fresh sheep poo. She heard Fergus start to laugh behind her and that sent her annoyance sky-high and drove her on across the fields and back to the farm. He was such a child and she was losing all hope of him ever growing up.
Carly was pleased to find that the farmer was very accommodating and happily called her a taxi for the station. She spent the twenty minutes she had to wait obsessively wiping her sandals on the grass nearby in a vain attempt to rid them of the poo. There was no sign of Fergus. He had given up the chase after the first field.
Thankfully, when the taxi arrived it was driven by a rare breed of taxi driver – an unchatty one that delivered her to the station in virtual silence where she stared in disbelief at the travel chaos. Apparently flash floods had caused all sorts of problems and there were loads of cancellations. She joined a long queue and eventually got her turn in front of a very stressed-looking woman.
‘I want to get to London.’
‘Not from here, not for a while. Sorry. The rain and floods have taken down trees and there’s been a passenger incident on the London line.’ The woman pulled a sympathetic face, probably in the hope that this piece of information would stop Carly from ranting at her. ‘Bank holiday weekend,’ she added, as if that explained the suicide. At least my weekend isn’t as bad as that poor soul’s, thought Carly.
‘So where can I get to?’ asked Carly, realising as soon as she’d said it what a stupid question it was.
‘Um, trains to Gloucester are running okay …’
‘Gloucester? I’ve a friend near there. Thank you!’ Carly hurried back to the departures board.
Beth and Leo were fresh from the shower and sitting at Jack’s kitchen table munching on muesli when he walked in. Leo
