‘Yes. Can I owe you one?’ I beg.
‘Course you can,’ he replies with a wink. ‘Back in a tick.’
The skies are back to being overcast and, on the return to my pitch, it starts to spit with rain.
‘Oi, Bridget?’ a little voice calls out, stopping me in my tracks.
‘Morning, Roy,’ I reply, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice as my next-door-pitch neighbour emerges from his campervan. He and his wife Shirley introduced themselves to me on my first day here. They seem like a sweet enough couple, if a little chatty and overeager.
‘Er, Bridget,’ he says, shuffling to the edge of his awning in his slip-ons. ‘I hate to be a killjoy, but...’
Oh dear, what have I done?
‘Your music kept Shirley awake last night, and she’s recovering from an op, you see.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ I say, genuinely mortified. ‘Is she okay?’ I only put it on to cheer myself up.
‘She’s fine. She has dicky knees, but she’s on the mend now.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
He shifts from foot to foot. ‘You do know that the rules of the campsite say no music?’
‘I’m sorry, I won’t play it that loud again, I promise.’
He laughs uneasily. ‘You really shouldn’t play it at all.’ He taps his finger on the side of his nose. ‘But I won’t tell anyone as long as you keep it right down.’
‘Okay, thanks, Roy.’
He nods at me graciously and a little bit patronisingly. ‘No problem at all, Bridget.’ He peers up at the sky. ‘Looks like rain today.’
‘It’s already started.’ I hold my palms up. ‘I’d better get back under cover.’
‘Right you are. Have a good day.’
‘You too,’ I call over my shoulder as I head back toHermie.
Now, where did I put my raincoat?
It’s just as well I find it, because the heavens throw everything at me on my way to Charlie’s.
By the time I get there, my jeans are soaked and I amlate.
Charlie doesn’t look too impressed when he answers the door.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ I mumble, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl as I remove my dripping raincoat.
‘There are towels in the bathroom,’ he says as I take off my Vans.
‘Can I put these on the radiator?’ I ask, indicating the one under the coat rack.
‘Yeah, I’m just on the phone.’ He heads back down the corridor.
Phone? I didn’t see him with a phone.
The voice of a young woman on speakerphone rings out as I follow him into the kitchen. She’s talking in a cutesy voice to April, who is standing in her playpen, bouncing up and down on her feet as she stares fixatedly at the phone lying flat on the sofa opposite.
‘I’m back,’ Charlie says loudly.
