The Staycation: This summer's hilarious tale of heartwarming friendship, fraught families and happy ever afters

by Michele Gorman

  Of course. She wasn’t thinking straight this morning.

  Dan looked satisfied. ‘Fine, take the car. I’ll be back by dinner time. Will you be okay driving, then?’

  ‘I’ll use the GPS.’

  ‘I’ll show you.’

  ‘I know how to use the GPS, Dan.’ It couldn’t be any harder than Google Maps, and she managed to use that all over London without ending up in the Thames.

  ‘Soph, I’m just trying to help you.’ He sounded weary. ‘Now, tell me where you’ll go today and I’ll type it in for you.’

  But she’d just said she didn’t want him to do that, not when the idea of taking the children in the car excited her so much. It would be an adventure! ‘That’s okay. We’ll sort it out later.’

  ‘Why won’t you tell me?’ Dan snapped.

  ‘I’m not not telling you, I’m just waiting to talk to the children. I don’t know what they’ll want to do. That’s all.’ Dan watched her. ‘Maybe the aviation museum.’

  ‘Fine, then I’ll put the coordinates in for you.’

  Whatever. She could do as she pleased as soon as he was on his way to London. She stretched again.

  But she wasn’t to get any peace and quiet yet, because Dan made a call as he finished getting ready. ‘Hope you’re enjoying yourself, wherever you are, not picking up your phone. As soon as you get to the office, I want you to pull out the Mason file, the Khan file and the Cipriani file. Sign them out. That’s Mason, Khan and Cipriani. Do this, Laxmi, okay? No excuses. You didn’t manage to follow my simple instructions last time, so now you’ll do this. I want you to ring me back and tell me it’s done.’

  The dread made itself at home in Sophie’s ribcage again, but now she wasn’t just upset on Laxmi’s behalf. As uncomfortable as the thought was, she was starting to wonder if Harriet’s accusation might be closer to home than she’d let herself believe.

  Dan got straight back on his phone. ‘Hi, this is Dan Mitchell ringing for Sophie Mitchell. I need to cancel Sophie’s treatment today. She’ll be there tomorrow as scheduled. Also, do you do spray tans?’

  ‘Where’re we going?’ Katie asked.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’ Sophie smiled as the car reached the end of the drive. ‘Now, left or right?’

  ‘To go where?’ Katie asked again.

  ‘Depends on whether we go left or right, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Right,’ Oliver said.

  Sophie eased the car out onto the road. ‘We’re off!’ To where, she had no idea. She only knew that it was up to her. ‘Let’s see what we find.’ When they reached the next intersection, she said, ‘Left or right?’

  ‘Left,’ said Katie.

  ‘Right,’ Oliver said again.

  ‘Tie break.’ Sophie laughed. ‘I’m the deciding vote.’ She put her left indicator on. They drove to the next intersection.

  ‘Right!’ both children said.

  They drove like that for miles.

  It was hours later when Sophie found a parking spot back in the village.

  ‘Can we do that when we get back to London?’ Oliver wondered.

  Sophie smiled at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘You mean drive around? We’d be stuck in traffic the whole time.’

  ‘Nuh-uh, I mean be allowed to go anywhere we want.’

  ‘I guess so,’ she said, ‘as long as you don’t mind me being with you.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  The children had so many activities and lessons, not to mention the birthday parties that seemed to take up every weekend. Her own childhood outside of school had felt like nothing but free time to play and explore. She realised that if it were only up to her, Katie and Oliver wouldn’t be half as busy as they were. So maybe that should be up to her more.

  The little bell tinkled over the butcher’s shop door as they entered. Only a few people were waiting. The butcher kept up a conversation while he weighed each customer’s selections, so that by the time Sophie’s turn came, she knew a lot about the village residents. She knew that the middle-aged lady with the whippet tied up outside was soon to leave for her sister’s in Penrith for two weeks to cheer her up after Gareth, her husband of eleven years, left the poor woman to find himself in India and, of course, there must be another woman involved. She learned all about Mr Clifton’s most recent hospital visit but, luckily, they caught it early so he should be fine after the chemo. Speaking of hospitals, the party planner’s mum was healing nicely and already looked twenty years younger even with the swelling. And that Eleanor Davies was going after the children again when she knew very well they had every right to be on that footpath and just because it ran across her property didn’t mean she owned it. Besides, she wasn’t local. She’d only married into the family. Granted, it was over fifty years ago.

  No wonder they viewed Harriet with suspicion if Mrs Davies’s fifty years didn’t count for anything.

  The butcher smiled at Sophie when her turn came. ‘May I please have a pork loin?’

  ‘And could you please put it in that paper instead of plastic?’ Katie added, though Sophie was about to ask the same thing. Katie’s influence had rubbed off, though it still came more naturally to the kids.

  ‘Aye. How’ll you cook it?’ the butcher asked, reaching into the large window at the front.

  ‘Oh. I’m not sure, actually. I’ll look up a recipe, I guess.’

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’ Katie said. ‘Can I ask where your pork comes from? Is it local?’

  ‘Right up the road, young lady,’ he said. ‘From a farm that’s reintroducing rare breeds.’

  His answer satisfied Katie’s air mile criteria. Luckily she hadn’t yet objected to them driving.

  ‘And I bet they’re delicious!’ Sophie added.

  ‘Aye, what you want to do is wrap it in foil with some herbs and butter,’ said the stout grey-haired lady beside her. Despite the summer weather she wore two or maybe three cardigans over her blouse.

  ‘Don’t forget salt,’ the butcher added. The other customers nodded. ‘And throw in a few cut-up apples.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sophie said. ‘My mouth is watering already.’

  ‘Ta-raa, see you again!’ said the stout lady when they left.

  Dan rang her from the train. ‘I’ll be thirty minutes,’ he said.

  ‘Not a problem, we only got back an hour ago.’

  ‘Did you have fun?’

  ‘We did! We just explored some of the countryside, all the way over into Herefordshire. It’s so gorgeous here. Did you get a lot done at the office?’

  ‘Yes, it was productive. I shouldn’t have to go in again. I’m glad you got out.’

  ‘Me too,’ Sophie said. ‘We stopped at the butcher on the way back and I got a pork loin. It won’t be ready for at least an hour, though.’

  At first, she thought his silence meant he’d gone into a tunnel. ‘I picked up Nando’s for dinner.’

  ‘Can’t we have that for lunch tomorrow? The butcher gave me the recipe. I think it’ll be delicious.’

  How quickly things turned bitter between them. ‘So will the chicken I bought. Come on, Soph, can’t you see I’m trying to make your life easy? Why do you have to make mine harder?’

  ‘I doubt your life is harder because of a pork loin, Dan.’ When she hung up, she realised that she never talked back like that. The ceiling hadn’t fallen in or anything.

  Chapter 19

  Monday

  Billie wanted to watch something on her phone rather than see London by night with them. Harriet was relieved to leave her at home. Then she felt guilty that she was relieved. Then she was afraid that she was relieved because Billie was gay.

  She used to love coming to the South Bank when she’d worked in London. Not actually when she worked, naturally, although her office was only a twenty-one-minute walk away if most of the crossing lights were green.

  Once a quarter, Harriet would spend a Saturday morning booking her events for the following three months. There was always something on a
t the South Bank: a play at the National Theatre, or music at Queen Elizabeth Hall or one of the big photo prize exhibitions at the Hayward Gallery. It always topped her up, culturally speaking.

  Lots of people hated its concrete brutalist architecture, but it was perfection in Harriet’s greedy eyes. All those bold geometric patterns. The windows alone on the Royal Festival Hall could occupy her for many happy minutes.

  She started counting them now as they meandered past, even though she could already see that the trees obscuring some of them would frustrate her.

  Throngs of people strolled along the wide walk, taking selfies, stopping to peer over the parapet at the river current. The notes of a busker’s rousing cello concerto floated over them. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, an obvious choice, but always a goodie.

  ‘Smell that. It’s making me hungry,’ said James. ‘Want to grab something after the wheel?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve got dinner after, in Soho,’ she said.

  ‘I mean here, at one of the stalls. Why wouldn’t we stay?’

  ‘Because there’s a table waiting for us in Soho.’

  He laughed. ‘Can’t you at least try to see that it’s easier to walk ten steps to one of these stalls rather than travel somewhere else?’

  ‘I’ve already booked somewhere else.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Harriet!’

  Why was he getting so vexed, when she was the one who’d gone to the trouble of booking the perfect restaurant for them? And now he wanted to change that.

  She took a deep breath. She was supposed to be trying to make things better. ‘I guess we could eat here,’ she conceded. ‘Where?’

  James glanced down the long row of kiosks.

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘We can walk up and down and see what looks good.’ While that was definitely not the most efficient method, she could see it was what James wanted. ‘We’ll just play it by ear.’

  The words tasted funny on her tongue.

  Their fast-track tickets let them board the London Eye quickly. There were twenty other people in the pod with them, Harriet noted, though nobody looked like they expected a conversation from her, so she wasn’t too anxious. Besides, everyone was busy staring out of the windows. The clear evening was perfect for a skyline view.

  The wheel started its gradual revolution. Thanks to the long summer day, the sun was still in the sky. Sightseeing boats and ferries shuttled passengers up and down the brown Thames below, past the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, which gleamed warmly on the opposite side of the river. Further downriver, the Shard’s sleek glass tower cut high into the sky. It had opened just after they left London.

  From this high up, the city leaked over the horizon all around them.

  ‘You’re not really okay with all this, are you?’ she asked James when they got near the top.

  ‘The wheel? It’s safe.’

  ‘Not this, James. I’m guessing the architects and builders who took six years to erect it made sure of that. I mean Billie.’ Harriet kept her voice low. ‘About what she said. I was thinking. She might not even be gay, you know. I read that fifty per cent of young people say they’re not straight. If everybody’s doing it, then it could just be a phase.’

  ‘Then she’ll snap out of it,’ he said, ‘and you won’t have to worry.’

  ‘What do you mean, I won’t have to worry? This concerns you too, you know.’

  ‘Well,’ James said, with his eyes trained on Big Ben, ‘it does and it doesn’t. Obviously I want her to be okay. That’s the most important thing. But I don’t care who she falls in love with, as long as they treat her the way she wants to be treated.’

  ‘Come off it, James, this has got to bother you just like it does me. Have you even thought about it, what it means for her life, or are you automatically saying it’s all fine because that’s what cool parents do? She’s going to have problems because of this. Prejudice. Job discrimination.’

  ‘I’m worried about that, too,’ he said, finally looking at her. ‘But we have to hope that it’ll be okay for her. Believe me, I’m thinking exactly what you are.’

  Harriet doubted that. What she was thinking was what about my grandchildren? Will I have any now?

  ‘She might not even have children,’ she told James. ‘What about that?’

  ‘Lots of people don’t have children,’ James said. ‘It wouldn’t be the end of the world, would it? As long as she’s happy.’

  ‘Will you stop acting so bloody reasonable? It just makes me look like the arse again.’

  Harriet knew exactly what his shrug meant. If the arse fits …

  James let out a sigh so loud the couple beside them looked over. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that you can’t anticipate everything in this world? You can’t control this. Not this. Not when it’s so important to get it right for Billie. I mean, Jesus, Harriet, our daughter has probably just told us the most important thing in her life, and you’re worried about whether she’ll have children? Please, get some perspective. There’s no script for this one.’

  Harriet was stung. ‘I know we need to get it right. That’s what I’m saying. James, I’ve done everything wrong and I don’t know how to make it better. Now our daughter hates me and I don’t know what to do.’ If she ever needed James to be the partner she married, it was now.

  ‘She doesn’t hate you,’ he said. ‘She’s a teenager. They say mean things to their parents. And vice versa.’ His look was pointed. Harriet couldn’t deny his judgement. But then he said, ‘Come here,’ and gathered her into his arms.

  ‘She doesn’t ever say mean things to you, though, does she?’ Harriet hated her jealousy over that.

  ‘Daughters fight with their mothers,’ he said.

  ‘How does she actually know she’s gay anyway?’ She grasped again at that slender straw. ‘I mean, what if this is just theoretical?’

  James shook his head. ‘I knew I liked girls before I ever had any working knowledge of one. Do you want to ask her?’

  Harried sighed. ‘Maybe she’s doing it to get back at me.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that to her if I were you. It sounds … dismissive.’

  ‘You don’t think she is, then? Getting back at me?’

  ‘It would be a pretty serious thing to fake just to piss you off.’

  ‘Well, if it’s true then I fear for her out there in the real world. I don’t want her to have to go through that. It’s hard enough being normal.’

  ‘You mean straight,’ James said.

  ‘That’s what I mean.’ But she hadn’t said that, had she?

  Now she’d disappointed James, too. She couldn’t make anyone happy.

  If Harriet didn’t do much better, and sharpish, she was going to lose her daughter. They hadn’t exactly been rock solid to begin with. Harriet stared at the horizon. Suddenly everything – making sure the holiday was perfect and the worry over James and their marriage – took a back seat to her and Billie.

  James was watching her. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘We’ll all be fine,’ he said.

  But he couldn’t promise that any more than she could.

  When they got back to the house, Harriet wasn’t in the mood to carry on with her plan – a post-sightseeing glass of wine in the garden followed by a romantic interlude upstairs. She didn’t even want to take her make-up off, which she did every night. That’s how bad it was. She stripped off and crawled under the duvet, even before James.

  Later, James came to bed in his usual manner, with the grace of a hippo on land. Just when she’d drifted off, too. The old bedsprings creaked their protest under the moonlight filtering through the flimsy curtains. When he lifted the duvet, a blast of cool air rushed across her naked body. Then he said what he always said when she yanked the bedclothes back around her. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

  She ignored him, but James wasn’t ready for sleep yet. It wasn’t long before his fingers started up the side of her thigh as she lay with her back to him. At fir
st, she barely felt it, just a tickle that raised goosebumps despite the heat under the blanket. He’d always had a feather-light touch. Surprising for such an oaf. She held her breath as he caressed her across her hip. His touch travelled up her back.

  ‘Mmm, that feels good.’ They needed this, she realised, this reconnection after today. She scooted herself back towards her husband as long-forgotten memories bubbled up. She used to love falling asleep with her back spooned against James’s chest. It was also a very handy position for when they didn’t want to sleep. Like now.

  But instead of pulling her to him, James kept tracing his fingers up her back, so slowly, until he reached her hairline. Another shiver ran down her. She adored having her hair played with. ‘That’s almost better than foreplay,’ she murmured. She wanted both, though.

  ‘Hmm?’ James said from what sounded like the other side of the mattress.

  She turned to look over her shoulder in the murky darkness. ‘I said that’s almost better than foreplay.’

  Just then, something blurry with a flickering tongue drifted into her peripheral vision.

  Her heart leapt into her mouth as the delicious tickling turned sinister.

  ‘GET IT OFF ME!’ she screamed. ‘JAMES, THE SNAKE, GET IT OFF!’

  ‘Jesus Christ, is it around you? I can’t see. Don’t move!’ He flipped on the light.

  Harriet froze. The snake’s mouth was inches from her neck. What if it bit her? And then started strangling her?

  But Spot was more interested in tickling Harriet’s neck. She could feel its tongue darting in and out. Pthlthlop pthlthlop went that horrid tongue. ‘It’s getting a taste for me, James. Get it OFF!’ What the hell was the man waiting for?

  Gently, James picked up the snake, leaving Harriet free to scramble from the bed. ‘Careful!’ She didn’t want James to be suffocated either.

  Spot’s tongue flicked at James’s arm. Slowly, her body coiled around it. ‘It’s okay, Harriet. It’s all right. She’s calm.’

  ‘She’s calm?!’ That bloody snake.

  Billie knocked at the door. ‘Mum, what are you screaming about?’