‘Where are you putting it?’ he asks, getting straight down to business.
‘I’m still undecided,’ I reply. ‘Do I want to step into it fromHermie’s door or have it off to the side?’
‘Well, if you step into it from the door, you’ll be locked within a campervan/tent hole forever. It only has one entry and exit point.’
‘Oh God, what an idiot. Just as well you’re here to help me.’
‘I’d put it here,’ he says, dragging the flattened-out tent – that’s as far as I’d got – to the back left of the campervan. ‘That way, it’s clear of the door, but still close enough for you to not get too wet if it’s raining.’
‘Do you reckon I’m allowed to have a tent as well as a campervan on this pitch?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, Justin said it’s fine. It’s no bigger than some of the awnings other people have.’
‘Did you check with him?’
‘Yeah.’
Aw.
‘What do you think?’ he asks, nodding at the tent’s position.
‘Great,’ I reply. ‘What shall I do?’
He passes me a bag. ‘You can fit the rods together.’
The tent is up in no time – it’s not very big, but it’ll make a huge difference when it comes to my living space. I’m actually excited about the prospect of tidying up a bit. Maybe I could get some more fairy lights to wind around the outside of the tent. Or I could just relocateHermie’s ones. I’m going to need to take them off anyway if I’m ever going to drive the bloody thing anywhere.
‘Do you want a beer?’ I ask Charlie hopefully. I’m not ready to go back to being Norman No Mates just yet.
‘Erm...’ He checks the time on his watch and glances at the tent. The door opening has been tied back and April is crawling around inside. She seems happy enough. ‘Yeah, okay,’ he decides. ‘One won’t hurt. I’d better not stay too long, though. April will be getting hungry.’
‘I can make her something if you like. I’ve got pasta,’ I offer.
I’m clearlydesperatefor company.
Charlie thinks about it for a minute and I’m sure he’s going to say no, so I’m pleased when he nods.
‘That would be cool, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’ I go intoHermieand lift up the bench seat. ‘Twirls?’ I proffer up a packet of fusilli.
‘Great.’
‘Pesto?’ I pull out a jar.
‘No, better not. Too much salt.’
‘What shall I put on it, then? I’ve got some broccoli.’
‘Perfect. I can mix in one of her veggie pouches.’
My tummy rumbles as I set about boiling water. I realise I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
‘Did April eat lunch?’ I ask with concern.
‘Yeah, I fed her when we were on the beach.’
‘Oh, good. I’m starving,’ I admit. ‘Think I’m going to do some pasta with pesto for myself. Do you want some?’
