by Laura Kemp
‘Snack time!’ she shouted as she was immediately surrounded by hungry eyes. ‘Spike’s got the goodies, help yourself. What a difference you’ve made already! After this, we’ll plant a sunflower each, do a bit more work and then it’s games time!’
16
Good luck with all the plans to revamp the site! We hope the charm of the place isn’t lost. Highly recommend putting an order in of an evening for morning bara brith. We thoroughly enjoyed eating ours with a flask up the mountain.
Dawn and Colin, Nottingham
Campsite Visitors’ Book
Wanda wasn’t being funny, right, but surely Carys could’ve told her she was a bit of a whizz on the old computer.
‘You never asked,’ her sister shrugged, her eyes fixed on her laptop and her tongue poking out in concentration as she tapped away.
‘But since when did you start being so good at it? Like, I knew you played Angry Birds and all that but we could’ve sorted a website ages ago if we’d known.’ Wanda playfully squeezed one of her toes. Sat on the sofa, Carys had her legs up on Wanda’s lap, just like they used to do as girls when they’d brushed their teeth and got into their pyjamas for a special Saturday night film, tight like herrings in salt between Mam and Dad.
‘There was no need, was there. I just learned to do it as I went. It’s only now that we’ve decided that we’re moving with the times.’
How was she related to this woman? ‘Did you not think to do it before it started going tits up?’
‘Oh shut up, Alan Sugar. I’m doing it now, aren’t I?’ Carys glared at her then went cross-eyed to make Wanda laugh. Then she sighed. ‘I was a kid back then.’
‘It’s not like you’re ancient!’
‘But I was just into my own thing, working here, seeing my friends, saving up for clothes and gigs and holidays.’ She had been the baby of the family, that was true. ‘You moved out as soon as you could. I liked staying here. And I was company for Mam. She liked making me tea and I liked eating it! And you have to admit, I’ve grown up a bit. I have to, for these two.’
‘Ah, yeah.’ Carys had taken out her belly-button piercing, for practical reasons, but she’d also postponed a longed-for Celtic cross tattoo and she’d started knitting tiny hats and mitts. ‘And you’ll be a fab mam. Think I’ll be a good aunty?’
‘Deffo!’
‘I’ll help with night feeds and nappies!’
‘So you’re staying around for a bit, are you?’ Carys asked, her face full of hope, which kind of floored Wanda. Even though she was doing the adult bit, she still needed her big sister and it gave her a lump in her throat.
‘I guess I am! Can’t miss out on Rock and Roll making their big entrance! I reckon they’ll come out screaming, “Good evening, Gobaith!” as if they’re stadium rock stars.’
‘I’ll be the one screaming, I tell you that. I shouldn’t watch those birth videos. Terrifying.’ Carys shuddered, and then remembered Wanda had a job to do. ‘Come on, rub my feet, while I just do this … and this … and … I think it’s ready to go.’
Carys pressed a button, paused, then clapped with happiness.
‘Here we go … the website for our new campsite … I present to you …’
Wanda sat up to take the screen and at the same time they both cried, ‘Under A Starry Sky!’ They’d decided against naming the site anything like ‘Gobaith Camping’ because it would be misleadingly sensible. What they were after was something that would reflect where they were and who they were: remote but friendly, nestled in the wilds but with style. And the page did reflect that. A photo of the newly erected bell tent beside the shimmering silver lake, the soaring black mountain topped by the night sky full of stars. There were a few introductory words summing up the experience campers would have here, a gallery of photos of the facilities, plus some staggering footage of the area from Lew’s drone.
‘I love it!’ Wanda pronounced. ‘You’ve done an awesome job, Caz. It’s all cwtchy cool.’
‘Cwtchy cool! Good line! I’ll stick that on the home page in a minute.’
There was a knock at the front door. Wanda leapt up. ‘Mam, I’ll get it!’
‘Oh no you won’t!’ Mam’s voice carried through the house – she was still stiff but she was down to a walking stick now and it was a job to get her to rest. By the time Wanda had got there, her mother had beaten her to it.
And there in the kitchen was Lew. Looking boyish, with a sheen of perspiration on his cheekbones. What was he up to?
‘Dilys is ready!’ he said to Mam. They’d been waiting on him and his farmer mate to help, but they hadn’t said a specific day, just that it’d be done.
His eyes flicked to Wanda and he gave her a little smile.
At The Bunkhouse open evening, they’d barely exchanged any words, he’d kept it professional. Yet that glance felt more intimate than anything they’d shared since he’d been back. As if he was opening the door a crack to her. Perhaps that was just familiarity though, that he had grown used to the idea of her being here for a while? Anyway, there was no time to dwell further on it because Mam was waggling her stick in excitement and so they went out to inspect the new addition to the family.
All three of them gasped in admiration when they saw her. Dilys translated from Welsh to English as perfect – and she was! Mam and Dad’s vintage caravan, a two-tone 1970s classic of white and mint green with curved groovy edges, was in position, cosied up against a private bit of hedge.
‘It looks like it’s meant to be there!’ Mam held her chest. ‘Oh, thank you, Lewis! Again!’ She’d been thrilled with what he’d done with the shepherd’s hut.
‘No problem! It took a while to get it to just-so.’ The farmer’s tractor was chuntering its way off the campsite now. ‘But it’s level, and I gave it a clean, so it’s over to you now, ladies.’
Mam was in raptures and refused any help when she got to the door, the keys jangling in her trembling hands as she unlocked it, opened up and climbed the little steps.
‘It’s a time capsule!’ she said, poking her head back out, then in again. Wanda pushed Carys up into the caravan and then joined her. It was a marvel! A homage to the seventies and eighties. It smelled musty, yes, but a good airing would sort that. The interior was pristine with its orange-and-white striped padded seating and matching tie-back curtains. Beige blinds sat above the plastic windows. A formica table sat between the sofas and the kitchen area was so cute with its little sink, stove and overhead open cupboards which still held crockery – matching mugs and plates with brown flowers, they’d set retro-lovers’ hearts beating. It was like walking back into their childhood. So many trips … only ever if it was quiet on the campsite in autumn and winter, but if they could get away to West Wales for a weekend, they would, their parents sleeping on the seats and Carys and Wanda on the floor below, bedded down on quilts and rugs.
Immediately the tears rolled down all three of their faces. For in here was Dad, and bits of their past they’d thought had been lost forever. The fire had destroyed every bit of their lives until that point. But this was like being with him again. Mam was opening cupboards and holding up his whisky tumblers, rustling around in drawers and finding one of his jumpers. Wanda remembered that yellow knit with diamonds. There were teabags too, an unopened bottle of Heinz tomato ketchup and a Gold Blend jar of solidified coffee. Books on the shelves – Delia Smith’s Complete Cookery Course, three Stephen Kings, Cosmos by Carl Sagan, Madhur Jaffrey’s Invitation to Indian Cooking, a few Roald Dahls, The Color Purple by Alice Walker – and Mam’s old magazines in the rack with Princess Diana on the front. There was a box of toys, too. Wanda’s headless Sindy in an air stewardess uniform – that’s what she’d wanted to be when she grew up. And Carys’s freaky battery-operated baby which cried to be fed and changed – like an omen, she said, of what would happen.
‘We honeymooned in this!’ Mam
said, lovingly smoothing the worktop with her hand. ‘We went to Abersoch up north. Such happy memories! In fact, you were conceived in here, Wanda!’
‘Eurgh! Mam! No!’ Wanda instantly felt fourteen again as Carys and her bump shook with laughter.
‘And you, Carys!’
Now it was Wanda’s turn to hoot, until they both realised that meant Wanda would have been asleep in the van at the time of conception.
‘Gross!’ the sisters chorused until Mam was cackling so hard she had to take a pew.
‘This is wonderful,’ she said. ‘Truly wonderful.’
‘We don’t need to do much to it,’ Carys said. ‘New seat covers and curtains.’
‘Do we keep it sickly seventies?’ Wanda asked. ‘Go with an eighties vibe? Or perhaps make it chintzy?’
‘Not chintzy. It doesn’t have that feel to it. Whatever we do, we should give the brown a swerve.’
‘Agreed! I reckon a mish-mash of the best of both, then. Against a white backdrop. Go easy with the stripes and psychedelia.’
‘Yes!’
‘You girls choose, I’ll do the sewing,’ Mam threw in.
They all smiled at one another, sharing a moment, buzzing at the project which had brought them together. Then it was time to step back into the present day, since Blod’s larger-than-life presence was making itself heard as she talked to Lew outside.
‘My God! This is a blast from the past, this van!’ Blod said, her scarlet-tasselled earrings and fringed palm-leaf kaftan shaking from her excitement. ‘That disco! We should have that as the theme. Blast from the Past!’
‘Disco?’ Mam asked.
‘Oh, I didn’t say, Mam,’ Wanda said, gently, ‘I didn’t think you’d be up for it with your hips.’
‘I beg your pardon! Everything Tom Jones knows about hips, I taught him! Come on, Blod, come and tell me all about it over a cuppa.’
‘Oh good, for one minute when I turned up and no one was in, I thought you’d forgotten. It was in my diary, Thursday, Lyn, three o’clock,’ Blod said, hooking her arm through Mam’s, whose earlier vigour had taken its toll, on their way to the farmhouse. ‘Then I saw Lew. Can’t be long though, my niece Belmira has arrived. She’s not staying with me, she’s in a B and B up the road, didn’t want to put Annie out, but I suspect she didn’t fancy the sofa! So how are you, my love?’
Carys was making noises about following them too. ‘I better go and check the … uh … bookings, see if anything’s come in online.’ She looked shifty – what she meant was that she was going to see if the new answerphone had any messages. From Danny. The poor lamb. Wanda had caught her virtually sitting on the machine this morning. How helpless she must feel. To be carrying his babies when he didn’t even know. To be unable to gauge his reaction if he ever did return.
‘Still a no to doing a story for the papers in Manchester?’ Wanda asked.
‘Yes, it’s a no. I don’t think I want to appear as the Welsh tart who dropped her drawers, got up the duff and has no idea where the dad is. You and me, we got this, yeah?’
It made Wanda’s heart ache that she was included in the ‘we’; it shouldn’t be her, it should be Carys and that bloke. What an idiot he was for not getting in touch. Even if it was to say ‘sorry, but …’ Then again, holiday romances and one-night stands happened. It was just a pity that he wasn’t the decent bloke they’d thought he was. He’d been so keen. It just went to show people could fool you …
That left Wanda and Lew alone and she braced herself for him to make his excuses and leave. But he kind of hovered around her and gave her another smile, even though it looked awkward.
‘No campers tonight?’ he asked, scratching his dark stubble, adding a mumble about needing a shave.
‘Nope. A nice couple from Nottingham the other day. But …’
‘None coming later?’ He ruffled his mop of curls and murmured about a shower, too.
‘Nope.’ Not until Saturday morning and that was just three tents for the night. ‘Bunkhouse full?’
‘Yep,’ he said, looking guilty, finally stopping his physical inventory of what needed attending to. He looked fine to her – more than fine. ‘Sorry.’
‘I’m happy for you!’ she said, happy too that he’d actually started a conversation with her. The crack of the door felt wider now. ‘You’ve busted your gut, you deserve it.’
‘Cheers. It’ll pick up for you, you know.’
‘I hope so.’
‘It will! Just look at what you’ve got!’ Lew said, spreading his arms, opening up his chest, which Wanda couldn’t help but admire.
She did as he’d suggested. He was right: she couldn’t expect immediate results.
Beside them was the caravan, which would be a real attraction once it was done. Beyond was the shepherd’s hut.
‘I’ll help with that,’ he said. ‘Rip up and refurbish with white tongue-and-groove cladded walls …’
‘… distressed grey laminate flooring. Get a double bed, a junk-shop two-seater sofa, in velvet maybe, some Welsh tapestry throws, cushions and sheepskin rugs …’
‘… a metal bowl for a sink and a kettle on the stove. Nice and rustic.’
‘Simple but gorgeous for it.’
Wanda felt a shot of embarrassment at this exchange: the wavelength they’d once shared seemed to be still there. Quickly she pointed at the latest attraction – the white circus-style bell tent. It wasn’t offering luxury: just a decked floor, a double mattress, two singles, real pillows, duvets, deckchairs and some fairy lights were as posh as it got. But what it did have was a prime view of the lake – Wanda had experienced it for herself, sitting inside on her crossed legs with a morning cup of tea and an evening glass of wine, looking out through the swagged porch, the sunrise and sunsets framed picture-perfect. That was why people would come. For the crisp sweet air and the easel of sky. Wanda had canoes and a yurt on order, an appointment with a carpenter to quote her a price for a treehouse and she was thinking about putting a tent out on a fixed raft on the lake. That would be an incredible way to experience the beauty of the landscape.
It was like a little community of quirkiness, all under a starry sky.
‘I need to get a load of shots in the bag so I can drip-feed them on Instagram,’ she said, taking out her phone and crouching low to see if she could fit the bell tent, the lake and the mountain in the image. Yes, she could! The tent was bleached by the sun, the water reflected the sky; wild bluebells and soaring hillsides made it look heaven-sent.
‘Have you had a sleep-out in it yet?’
Wanda was listening as she created a new account for @UnderAStarrySky, busy following all of her contacts in the biz who would realise it was her when she signed off this pic with her name.
‘Oh … no! I hadn’t even thought about that.’
A few hashtags – glamping, backtonature, wakeuptowildWales – and then a Welsh flag emoji and a ‘love, Wanda’…
‘We should try it out!’
… And, share! Suddenly she heard again what he’d said. ‘We’ should try it out. There was a just-too-long silence at his slip of the tongue.
‘Right!’ she said, getting up, feeling a bit too warm, so she tied up her hair to get it off her neck. He was staring at her now and she checked her topknot for any sprigs which could make her look mad but finding none. What was he looking at, then?
‘I’d love a night in the bell tent, to wake up to that. A refreshing dip before bacon butties.’
He was in a trance, his eyes were emerald and shining.
‘You’d be very welcome,’ she said.
‘We can have a fire,’ he said, rubbing his nose self-consciously. This was taking a bizarre turn – a fire? When he knew how she felt about fires? And again that ‘we’… ‘A bucket of sand and a watering can for safety.’
‘But they’re banned!’ sh
e said.
‘Then you need to un-ban them. You can’t have a campsite without campfires.’
She sized him up, searching for judgement, mockery or humour, but his face was soft. What was all this about? He was confusing her with this sudden reaching out to her, even if it was a bit Famous Five.
‘Funny how we’re here, isn’t it? How things have turned out.’ He had an intensity to him now and Wanda felt a spike of resistance. He’d changed the pace without warning and she didn’t know where she stood. So she stayed silent.
‘I’m sorry I’ve been a bit … distant.’ Distant? She’d needed binoculars to keep up with him. Now they needed turning around, he was so close. ‘I had no idea you’d be here and it threw me. But while we’re in Gobaith, we might as well get on.’
She began to thaw but she couldn’t resist testing him. ‘And I’ll be gone soon anyway, so …’
Lew had a long blink. ‘Yeah, did I mention that at all?’
Wanda laughed. ‘Just a bit.’
He put his hands on his head. ‘I was just weirded out. I’m sorry. I meant that you have to go, you know, for you.’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ she said, shrugging. But inside her heart was beating fast.
‘Lots to catch up on, the pair of us … fifteen years, eh?’
The mention of fifteen years made her gulp – could they pick things up after so long when the last they’d seen one another was the moment they had almost kissed? Fifteen years ago they’d been teenagers, innocent and trying life out. Now they had been through things, she had no idea what he’d been up to and who he’d become. It all seemed so overwhelming.
