Summer under the Stars: A romantic comedy that will have you laughing out loud this summer.

by Catherine Ferguson

  ‘I doubt they’d even let you in the restaurant looking like that,’ I retort, and he laughs.

  ‘Touché.’ He turns and rubs his wet hands on his jeans. ‘I’m actually just meeting an old friend for a drink in the bar so hopefully I’ll pass inspection.’ He leans back against the washbasin and folds his arms. ‘You enjoy your meal. And I’ll get back to my campfire. I know my place.’

  He studies me with another lazy smile, and a flush of heat surges up into my face.

  Unable to think of a witty retort, I make a hasty escape.

  As the door closes, he calls out, ‘Apron and wellies. Not an image to forget in a hurry.’

  Heat like a blast from a furnace creeps up my neck and engulfs me.

  I waft my top to cool down and go in search of Toby, hoping he’ll think I’m simply flushed with happiness at the thought of food at long last …

  CHAPTER NINE

  Next morning, when I wake up and peer outside, a thin drizzle is falling.

  But it’s still very warm and the forecast is for it to brighten up later. Feeling optimistic, I take the little table and chairs outside.

  Toby is still asleep, so I make a cup of coffee and sit facing the lake, feeling the faint patter of rain on my bare arms. The scent of recently mown grass tickles my nose as I stare out over the flat grey water, thinking of yesterday.

  It was so strange driving through Appley Green.

  The feelings aroused in me made me realise how eager I am now to find out the truth of my birth. I’ve been suppressing the desire to search because I didn’t want to upset Mum. I’m not sure I can leave here without at least finding Maple Tree House …

  Yesterday wasn’t the greatest start to our holiday – although when we eventually sat down to dinner, the food was excellent, as expected. But hopefully things will get better now that we’ve settled in. Toby very much enjoyed the apron and the wellies after we got back, although I must admit my clash with that rude man in the men’s toilets rather distracted me from getting wholeheartedly into the spirit of things. I just kept thinking of his sarcastic comments and cringing all over again.

  Toby enjoyed himself, though. And hopefully he’ll be in a much more relaxed mood today after the stress of yesterday.

  I glance around at the other tents on the site, wondering if the rude stranger is occupying one of them. But maybe he lives locally and isn’t here on holiday at all. I know for a fact that the nearest tent to us is occupied by a young couple from Scotland. When we arrived back from the restaurant last night, they seemed to be having an argument. The man came out, swigging from a can, and a woman’s voice followed him, yelling, ‘And don’t think you can come back in here and shag me senseless and everything’ll be all right. Because it won’t, Dane Cuthbertson!’

  As we passed, Dane shook his head at Toby and muttered, ‘Women.’ Then he called back, ‘You don’t half talk a load of bollocks, Chantelle. You know fine well that once you’ve necked a few more gins, you’ll be absolutely gasping for it.’

  ‘What was that?’ She poked her blonde head out of the tent. Dressed only in a thigh-length pink T-shirt with Mickey Mouse on the front, she clapped eyes on us and stepped back, horrified.

  Toby went red and grabbed for my hand.

  Back in our tent, we could already hear Chantelle shrieking and laughing raucously. Dane was obviously correct, although his prediction that it would take another few gins to get Chantelle in the mood was clearly off beam.

  I grinned at Toby. ‘Quite the femme fatale next door there. Wish I had a figure like Chantelle’s.’

  Toby frowned. ‘I didn’t really notice.’

  I smile at the memory.

  There’s no sign of life from Chantelle and Dane so far this morning. They’re obviously enjoying a lie-in after their passionate reunion.

  After a while, as Toby’s still out for the count, I take a quick shower and head over to Clemmy’s house, tempted by the thought of Poppy’s breakfast pastries.

  Clemmy greets me at the door with a smile, wearing shorts and a T-shirt, her thick hair, the colour of gleaming conkers, falling loosely over her shoulders.

  ‘Hi. Come in, Daisy. Did you have a nice meal at the hotel?’

  ‘We did. Thanks to the lovely manager managing to squeeze us in.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  I follow her through to the living room. ‘I … er … think I might have met another of your guests at the hotel last night.’

  ‘Really?’ She frowns. ‘Not Chantelle and Dane?’

  I shake my head. ‘A tall man … big shoulders … with dark reddish hair and lots of stubble?’

  ‘He sounds delicious, whoever he is. But the only other occupants at the moment are you and Toby. We only started up the business in April, although we’ve got plans for more tents next year.’ She smiles broadly.

  ‘Oh. I wonder who he was then.’ I shrug as if I haven’t given him another thought since last night. Which I haven’t. Not really. Then I turn to look at a painting in order to hide my inconvenient blushes. ‘I just assumed he must be camping here.’

  ‘Glamping, please!’ Clemmy sounds like she’s really offended.

  But when I turn, she’s smiling mischievously.

  A baby wails in the background. I look at Clemmy quizzically and she laughs. ‘Not mine. Poppy’s the new mother. Come through and meet them.’

  I follow her through a neat hallway into a large kitchen-diner at the back of the house. The girl called Poppy – who Clemmy said lives next door at the Log Fire Cabin with her fiancé, Jed – is standing by the window, shushing a baby in a sling.

  ‘Poppy and little Keira. This is Daisy, an old friend of mine from school. She’s staying in Harem Three with her boyfriend, Toby. She’s here to sample your pastries.’ Clemmy pats a wicker basket that’s sitting on the island in the centre of the kitchen. It’s brimming with fresh pastries, each one wrapped in a twist of cellophane.

  ‘Harem Three?’ I laugh.

  ‘Oops, sorry.’ Clemmy laughs. ‘Not very professional of me. I keep forgetting you’re actually a client, not just an old friend. I call them Harem One, Two and Three because they remind me of those Arabian tents in the desert?’

  I nod. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’

  ‘But probably best not to advertise them by that name.’ Poppy grins. ‘That would be a rather more – um, exotic – kind of a holiday.’

  We all laugh and Poppy says, ‘Good to meet you, Daisy.’

  ‘Likewise.’ I smile at her then lean over to admire the baby. ‘She is just gorgeous.’

  ‘She is, isn’t she?’ Poppy laughs. ‘I suppose I might be a little bit biased.’

  ‘No, she literally is perfect,’ says Clemmy.

  Poppy grins again. ‘Except at three in the morning when she’s screaming her head off.’ She pats the wicker basket. ‘Daisy, there’s apple and cinnamon pastries this morning, and chocolate and almond. Or can we tempt you with some croissants and some of Clemmy’s homemade strawberry jam?’

  ‘Lethal combination,’ groans Clemmy. ‘Which is why I’m no nearer getting into my wedding dress than I was when I started my so-called diet in January.’ She pinches a few inches ruefully.

  ‘You look fine as you are, Clem,’ retorts Poppy, and little Keira gives a cute snuffle, as if she’s in firm agreement.

  ‘You do. You’ve got a great tan,’ I tell her, admiring her shapely legs in the shorts. I start picking out pastries and croissants for Clemmy to put in a bag for me.

  ‘I’m so excited for the wedding in October,’ says Poppy, kissing Keira’s head gently, and grinning broadly. ‘I’m going to be a bridesmaid.’

  Clemmy twists her lips, looking rather less enthusiastic. ‘She’s only this excited because our wedding is a sort of dry run for when she and Jed get married in December!’

  Poppy laughs. ‘Very true.’

  A phone on the table beeps and Clemmy glances at the message. A frown creases her pretty face as she reads it, then
she stares pensively out of the window.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asks Poppy.

  Clemmy turns and gives her head a little shake. ‘Shouldn’t be looking. That’s Ryan’s phone.’ She smiles brightly. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I do that with Toby’s phone sometimes,’ I say.

  ‘Sorry?’ Clemmy’s mind is clearly still elsewhere.

  I shrug. ‘Sometimes I find myself reading a message on Toby’s phone without meaning to. It’s just instinctive.’

  She smiles and nods but she still seems distracted. I wonder what was in that text message?

  ‘Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials, by the way, Poppy,’ I say. ‘You’ve got a lot going on. How do you manage to run a catering company and look after a new-born and plan a wedding, all at once?’

  ‘A magical assistant called Roxy,’ says a male voice. ‘She arrived at Christmas and stayed.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ breathes Poppy. ‘I couldn’t do even half of this without Roxy. She and her boyfriend, Alex, are sunning themselves in Greece this week.’

  ‘Hello, you.’ Clemmy turns to the man, a beaming smile on her face. ‘Daisy, this is Ryan.’

  Ryan and I greet each other and he steals a pastry from the basket, unwrapping it immediately. ‘Chocolate and almond,’ he murmurs, holding it up. ‘This right here is four mouthfuls of absolute perfection.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Ryan.’ Poppy laughs. ‘But I know you’re only buttering me up so I’ll say have another one!’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ Ryan grins. ‘Right, I’m going to love you and leave you.’ He picks up his mobile phone, reads the message and quickly pockets it. ‘Got a ten o’clock meeting.’

  I recall Clemmy mentioning last night that Ryan is a solicitor at a big London firm.

  ‘I thought I’d do steak tonight,’ she says. ‘What time will you be back?’

  Ryan turns away to put the discarded cellophane in the bin. ‘Erm, late, actually. Probably after nine. You’d be best just having yours and I’ll grab a snack when I get in.’

  Clemmy nods, looking a little crestfallen. ‘Oh. Okay.’

  ‘I’ll call you when I’m on the way back,’ says Ryan, kissing his fiancée on the lips. ‘Bye everyone. Be good, Keira.’ He smiles down at the baby and offers a finger for her to curl her hand around. He shakes his head, marvelling. ‘So tiny.’

  ‘That’ll be you and Clemmy soon,’ says Poppy.

  Ryan gives a comical look of dread and walks out, raising his hand as he goes.

  ‘I don’t think it will be,’ murmurs Clemmy. ‘Not if he keeps on being late home like this. We barely see each other these days and, when we do, we’re so knackered there’s no energy at all for sex.’

  Poppy grins. ‘It’s called a steady relationship. Jed and I barely have the energy for a quick peck on the cheek, never mind full sex. Sleep just seems way more seductive when you’ve got a baby.’

  ‘Yes, but at least you’ve Keira as an excuse for your lack of love life.’

  Right on cue, Keira starts to wail.

  Poppy shrugs. ‘Ryan’s got loads on at work. You said so yourself. Things will calm down.’

  I grin. ‘My other half, Toby, never stops working. I have to wear a lime green lizard suit and leap up and down shouting “Fire!” to attract his attention.’

  Clemmy and Poppy look at me and burst out laughing.

  Even little Keira stops crying.

  The doorbell rings and Clemmy grins at me. ‘That’ll be Gloria and Ruby, our relatives from Newcastle. Gloria’s engaged to Ryan and Jed’s Uncle Bob, and Ruby’s Gloria’s daughter. They arrived yesterday to meet baby Keira. They’re staying at Poppy and Jed’s house next door.’

  Clemmy and Poppy both go to the door so I wander into the hall with them.

  A red-haired woman in her late forties, who I presume is Gloria, stands on the doorstep, her glasses perched on her head, with a young girl of about eighteen, who must be her daughter, Ruby.

  ‘Hi, Mum and I are going for a walk round the lake,’ says Ruby. ‘Anyone want to come? Oh, hi,’ she adds, spotting me.

  Clemmy does the introductions and we decline the offer of a walk, so Gloria and Ruby turn to go.

  ‘What is that weird man doing?’ hisses Ruby suddenly, and we all look over.

  I frown, recognising the man in question. Toby has emerged from the tent, wearing just his boxers, and is running around on the grass in small circles, flapping his arms vigorously over his head.

  ‘Is he all right, do you think?’ asks Gloria worriedly.

  ‘I think he’s doing some kind of tribal dance,’ says Ruby in awe.

  ‘It’s Toby,’ says Clemmy, following me over the grass to find out what’s going on.

  ‘Toby? Are you all right?’ Alarmed, I run up to him, fearing for one hair-raising moment that work has finally pushed him over the edge.

  ‘It’s a bloody bee. I can’t get rid of it,’ he shrieks. ‘It was in the tent and now it’s following me around, the little bastard!’ He flaps at the air, jumping from side to side in agitation.

  ‘It’s probably more frightened of you than you are of it,’ says Ruby calmly. ‘If you keep still, it’ll get bored and fly away.’

  ‘If I stay still, it’ll bloody sting me!’ yells Toby, continuing his tribal dance. ‘Any more bright ideas? Ouch, you bloody bastard! The fucking thing just stung me!’ Yelping in pain and indignation, he holds out his arm, staring at it in horror.

  ‘We just need to get the sting out,’ I say, grasping his other arm to try and calm him down.

  ‘Here, I know what to do,’ says Ruby. ‘I did a first aid course.’ She grabs the arm that’s been stung and uses her nail to carefully flick away the sting. Toby is leaning so far back as she performs this delicate operation that he almost overbalances.

  ‘Honey,’ says Gloria. ‘That’s what you need. Smear it with honey and put a bandage on it, and it’ll be right as rain in no time.’

  Clemmy rushes off to hunt for both and returns to tend to Toby’s arm.

  ‘I feel a bit faint,’ he says, frowning at me and holding out his bandaged arm as if it’s a foreign object that doesn’t belong to him. ‘I think I’d better have a lie-down.’

  ‘Good idea, Toby. Let’s go. Thanks for your help, everyone,’ I add, leading him swiftly away.

  ‘No problem,’ calls Ruby. ‘Hope you’re feeling better soon, Toby.’

  Clemmy catches me up and slips a bag under my arm. ‘Pastries,’ she says and I give her a grateful smile.

  ‘Actually, I think I’m going to be sick,’ says Toby suddenly, charging the rest of the way back to the tent and making for the bathroom.

  He emerges a little while later looking white as a sheet, then he crawls into bed and lies flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling and looking thoroughly traumatised by the whole experience.

  I sit down on the bed beside him. ‘Ruby got the sting out. You’ll be absolutely fine.’

  He just grunts and I feel terrible because he clearly regards it as my fault for bringing him to this awful, insect-ridden place …

  *

  An hour or so later, Toby emerges from the bedroom to find me sitting outside, enjoying the sun.

  ‘Anything to eat?’ he asks.

  Smiling, I hold up the bag. ‘Pastries. Sit down and I’ll get breakfast. Are you feeling better?’

  He nods grudgingly. ‘A bit.’

  A fly buzzes around his ear and he slaps the side of his face, missing it, then grabs a newspaper and starts hacking violently at the air.

  ‘Bloody flies. I wouldn’t mind the countryside so much if it wasn’t full of bloody great beasts crapping all over the place and attracting all these fucking insects.’

  He storms off, back into the tent.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ‘Do you know what?’ says Toby, appearing again a little while later. ‘I think I’ll join you for one of those delicious-looking croissants.’

  ‘Oh, great.’ I beam up at hi
m. Perhaps he’s starting to relax a bit. They do say it takes a few days before you’re entirely in holiday mode.

  ‘This is nice,’ he says, sitting stiffly on the edge of his seat, the newspaper to hand ready to swat anything that dares zoom by. He’s holding his bandaged arm out at an awkward angle.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ I say cheerfully, feeling on edge myself just looking at him. ‘And the forecast is for a glorious sunny day, so perhaps we could go for a walk around the lake? And then …’ I swallow hard. ‘And then maybe this afternoon we could go and explore Appley Green?’ I roll my tongue round the words, my heart rate quickening.

  Toby nods. ‘Sounds good.’ He peers at the jam on his croissant and carefully picks something out of it, smearing it on the side of his plate with a faintly disgusted look. ‘Although I think I’ll have to pass on this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh. Why?’

  He shrugs. ‘The broadband signal is rubbish here, so I’m thinking I’ll have to go to the office if I want to get any work done.’

  ‘The office? But that’s back in Manchester!’

  He smiles. ‘That’s where I’m based. But the company has offices all over the country – including Guildford.’

  ‘Ah. Of course.’ I nod slowly. ‘But you’re on holiday?’

  ‘I know.’ He pastes on a frown, as if the thought of dragging himself away from an insect-ridden location is going to be absolute murder. ‘But what can I do? The few texts that have got through this morning have all been really urgent. I can’t let the team down. But we can definitely go for that walk this morning first.’

  ‘Right.’ I nod, my heart sinking. So the reason he joined me for croissants was so he could feel less guilty about leaving me today. ‘It’s just …’

  He frowns. ‘What?’

  I sigh. ‘It’s probably time I told you.’

  He looks at me warily. ‘You haven’t gone and booked another surprise, have you?’ He looks genuinely fearful, so I rush to reassure him.

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just … well, the thing is, you know how I was adopted? Well, Appley Green is the place where I was born.’ I swallow hard. ‘And I think I might have found a clue that could lead me to my birth parents.’