‘Shit!’
‘Grab a tent pole!’
‘Which one?’
‘Any one!’
They scrabble about, still in their soaked underwear, pulling at poles and pegs.
‘Don’t let go!’ shrieks Tilly as the tent’s outer fabric flaps wildly like a sail.
‘I can’t see!’ says Rachel, wiping her eyes as the rain blasts their faces.
Eventually, they manage to construct something that resembles a tent but before they can peg it down it blows away down the beach, rolling about like an oversized can tumbling down a hill.
‘Quick! Before it goes in the sea!’
Tilly runs barefoot across the pebbles, wincing as shells and rocks press sharply into her soles. Then Rachel takes a leap and manages to grab hold of one side of the tent, Tilly taking the other. Battling against the wind, they tug it back to the pitch near their bags and Rachel holds on with her entire body asTilly unwinds the ropes and hammers the pegs into the ground using a large rock. Once it’s secure she unzips the opening and starts throwing bags inside.
‘There’s a tent pole left over! Why is there a tent pole left over?’
‘It doesn’t matter, just get inside!’
They shove the rest of their things through the door, leaving the bikes abandoned on the beach, then crawl in after their belongings, zipping the door closed.
Inside, the rain sounds even louder, hammering on the fabric as the wind blowing in from the sea makes the whole frame shake. There’s a distinctive smell that Tilly realizes is probably coming from them. They’ve both removed the worst of their damp clothes, goosepimply flesh on show as they shiver and reach for extra layers, checking each item to see if it’s managed to escape getting wet.
‘I’m bloody freezing. Who thought that swimming was a good idea?’ Rachel groans as she reaches for her sleeping bag.
‘Ugh, it’s wet!’ Tilly cries as she grabs her own sleeping bag.
But they crawl inside anyway, putting the hoods up and tightening the drawstrings so they resemble a pair of shivering caterpillars. The rain doesn’t sound as if it is easing; if anything, it crashes even louder, making the whole tent shake.
‘We should eat something, maybe it will help us warm up.’
‘Good idea. I’m starving. Lunch seems like it was days ago.’
Tilly reaches for the gas stove and cooking equipment … then stops.
‘Shit.’
‘What is it?’
She gestures at the roof. ‘It’s raining. We can’t cook outside. And I don’t really feel comfortable cooking over an open flame in here, not when it’s so cramped.’
‘Well, we have to eat something.’
Tilly digs around in the food bag, pulling out a couple of cereal bars. They crunch through them in silence.
‘That didn’t touch the sides. What else have we got?’
It’s Rachel who reaches into the bag this time, pulling out the plastic pots they bought for their meals.
‘Which would you prefer, cold porridge or cold Pot Noodle?’
‘Ireallydon’t want to eat cold Pot Noodle.’
‘Porridge it is, then. Pass me the water.’
