‘Sure, why not?’
Smiling, I grab a couple of beers from the fridge and hunt out the bottle opener, cracking them open and passing one to Charlie.
‘Have a seat.’ I nod at the single camping chair and sit down myself in the side door opening, my feet on the grass. ‘I’ve got another camping chair in the boot, but it’s a bit buried.’ I cross my legs as Charlie swings his chair around to face me.
‘Yeah, probably better you don’t go opening the back of this thing again.’ He smirks and puts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig before looking at me levelly with his clear, unusual eyes. ‘So why does your mum annoy the fuck out of you?’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘I might need a few more beers if you really want the answer to that question.’
‘That bad?’
‘She isn’t the most maternal of people.’ I take a sip of my beer and shrug. ‘Obviously, I love her, and we get on well enough. But she was only young when she had me and she hasn’t grown up much since. Dad’s the only real parental figure in my life. He’s awesome.’
I look over my shoulder to see that the water in the saucepan has come to a boil. By the time I’ve added pasta and returned to my perch on the edge ofHermie, April has emerged from the tent.
Charlie bounces her on his knee, making her laugh hysterically.
As dads go, this one’s all right, too, I think with a smile.
Chapter 15
On Sunday it pours down and the winds are so strong that I’m worried that my new tent is going to blow away. In the end, I hunker down and work on my blog, giving up on any plans for another daytrip. Heligan’s gardens may well be lost again by the time I reach them.
I keep finding myself wondering what Charlie and April are up to. He probably feels he’s done his bit for me now – I doubt we’ll be going out again any time soon. The realisation is a bit of a downer, so to cheer myself up, I decide to plan a trip to Ireland the following weekend. Time to pay Dillon a visit.
The rain doesn’t let up on Monday. It’s still very windy and making my way along the cycle path is treacherous. At one point I’m almost blown into the estuary.
‘You all right?’ Charlie asks with alarm when I push Nicki’s bike through the front door, looking like a sodden rat.
‘I think I should’ve walked today,’ I state.
‘I would’ve thought so,’ he replies pointedly.
‘What do you do on days like this?’ I ask, taking off my raincoat. The helmet didn’t exactly keep my hair dry, but I console myself in thinking that the hood of my raincoat would’ve blown off my head in the wind, anyway. ‘How do you work outside?’
‘I have a pop-up gazebo I sometimes use, but, yeah, I tend to give the outdoor stuff a miss when it’s like this. I need to sort out my accounts, anyway.’
I check my appearance in the hall mirror. My dark-brown hair is an interesting mix of wet and dry stripes. ‘This is a good look,’ I murmur.
‘How was the rest of your weekend?’ he asks with a smile as he goes into the kitchen.
‘Fine. A bit boring, actually,’ I say. ‘Hello, April!’ She’s sitting underneath the table, munching on a squeaky toy. I turn back to Charlie. ‘Just did some writing,’ I add.
‘Of your own?’
Squeak, squeak.
‘Yeah. I’m going to Ireland this weekend for my blog.’
‘Who’s this for?’
‘His name’s Dillon. He’s an Irish musician.’
Charlie narrows his eyes at me before shaking his head and getting the milk out of the fridge.
‘What?’ I sense he was going to say something.
‘Nothing,’ he replies.
