‘Are you going out today?’ I repeat my question.
‘Er, probably.’
‘Do you know roughly when?’
He furrows his brow. ‘When April wakes up. Eleven, eleven thirty. I usually take her into town for lunch.’
Must be nice to get out of the house...
‘Why?’
I shrug. ‘I was thinking about going into town for some lunch myself,’ I say casually. His eyes widen. ‘I didn’t mean with you,’ I say quickly, sensing his alarm at the thought of me inviting myself to join them. ‘I meant for a wander. But it’s raining today so I probably won’t bother.’
‘Okay.’ He looks awkward. April starts to whinge and he jigs her up and down. ‘I’d better put her down,’ he says, kissing her forehead. She lays her head back against his chest, her blue eyes staring at me sleepily.
‘Sure. See you later,’ I whisper after him.
That went well. I didn’t even ask him what time he’d be back.
At lunchtime, I take my speaker with me downstairs to the deserted kitchen and dance along to Billy Joel’s ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me’ while I’m tidying up, clicking my fingers, having a bit of a jive and bashing out the big drum roll on an invisible kit. Vanilla Ice comes on after that and I’m well away. There’s no point attempting to eat my sandwich while ‘Ice Ice Baby’ is on. It’s impossible to rap with your mouth full.
Every evening since I’ve got here, I’ve picked up fish and chips, scampi and chips or something else fried and fishy on my way back to the campsite. Then I’ve sat on a bench over-looking the estuary and watched the tide roll back in while tucking into the very best Padstow has to offer.
But this evening I make a decision: I can’t live on Rick Stein’s forever.
I mean, Ireallycan’t live on Rick Stein’s forever. The cholesterol will kill me.
Iwillcook at some point, just not tonight. Because Thursday is Pizza Night at the campsite.
Get in.
At six o’clock, two guys rock up with a converted horse trailer that’s been painted green and contains a wood-fired oven. I place my order for a cured-meats pizza and wander back in the rain to the bombsite that is my home for the next seven and a half weeks. I’m counting down.
I turnedHermieupside down in my search for my raincoat this morning and now there are clothes strewn everywhere. I really have no idea what I’m going to do with them all. I gather everything together and cram it into the footwells belonging to the driver and passenger seats. I’ll deal with that mess later. Right now, I just need to make sure I’ve got a table to eat at.
I didn’t have time to make up the bench seat earlier and there doesn’t seem to be much point now as I’ll be going to sleep in a couple of hours. I wonder if the table will still click into place with the bed down. I decide to give it a whirl and discover that it does. And that’s how I roll with it: my legs dangling over the edge of my bed, stuffing my face with pizza atHermie’s bright-yellow table while the rain pelts down over my head.
Could be worse.
Chapter 8
Honestly, the weather is up and down like a frigging yo-yo. On Friday it’s sunny again. Not that I’m complaining.
This time I manage to nab Charlie at eleven forty-five as he attempts to back out of the house with April in her pram.
‘What time will you be back?’ I ask him, distractedly smiling at April as she gazes up at me. She’s too intent on finishing whatever indeterminate white and gooey round thing she’s eating to smile back.
‘I’m not sure.’ He frowns. ‘Why?’
‘I might nip into Padstow for some groceries. I don’t want to get locked out.’
‘Oh.’ He looks surprised. Has the thought not even occurred to him that I can’t leave his house and get back in if he’s out? ‘I was going to try to put April down in her cot at two today,’ he says.
‘Okay, great. I’ll tie my walk in with you, then.’
‘Okay,’ he says.
‘Okay,’ I say.
