Theo chuckles. “Oh, give it a rest, chicken!”
“Dad, Itoldyou not to call me that!”
We park in front of the garage and tug our cases across the patio towards the house. I look to see the kids’ reactions but they’re so tired—and so bad-tempered—they barely even glance up at it. They don’t even notice the sea. Theo does, though.
“Look at that, Ads,” he says, nuzzling the side of my head. “We made it.”
“Yeah, we made it.” I want to kiss him but feel self-conscious in front of the kids. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
I unlock the front door and we step through it. I switch on the lights, revealing the kitchen. There’s a beat of silence. The wooden units are even more dilapidated than I remember and the light bulbs so dim, the room looks dingy and unwelcoming.
“Is this it?” asks Mabel.
“What’s that minging smell?” says Callum.
“Just the smell of old houses,” I sing-song. “It probably needs some air.” But even as I say that I can’t help thinking that the kitchen’s usual smell is laced with something else—something dirty.
“Why don’t you guys put on some mosquito spray?” I suggest. I open a drawer and thrust a can at Theo.
While he takes them outside to supervise the operation, I fling open the cupboards and look for the pasta. But the packets I left have been bitten through by some kind of rodent—and the contents obliterated. All that’s left are crumbs and droppings. Sothat’swhat the smell is. …
I slam the door shut.
I remember leaving a small box of cereal in another cupboard, one that’s on the wall and raised from the ground. I open it and see that amazingly, I also had the foresight to leave a carton of UHTmilk. There’s not enough for all of us, but it should at least keep the kids quiet.
I explain the situation to Theo and he puts three bowls on the kitchen table and rations the food between them. I insist I’m not hungry, hoping he can’t hear my stomach roaring.
Mabel pulls a face. “What’s the matter with this milk? It tastes funny.”
“Nothing,” says Theo, “it’s just long-life.”
“Dad, it’s knocking me sick.” She pushes her bowl away.
Just as I’m thinking I’ll have it, Callum swoops in and slides the bowl towards himself. “What’s the Wi-Fi password?” he barks, spraying crumbs all over the table.
This is the moment I’ve been dreading most.
Thankfully, Theo handles it for me. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow. As soon as you’ve eaten, we’re going to bed. After the day we’ve had, we all need some sleep.”
Unbelievably, no one argues.
I show the kids up to their rooms, promising them a full tour of the house tomorrow. We’ve decided Theo and I will sleep in the cottage: even though it’s connected to the rest of the house by an interior door, it feels a little more private. Mabel and Archie will sleep in the rooms on the top floor—in the new beds we bought on our last trip—while Callum will go in Wilf’s room on the middle floor.
When he sees it, he tugs at his fringe. “It looks like some old man lives here.”
“Not anymore,” I chirrup. “It’s where my uncle used to sleep.”
Callum recoils. “What, so some guydiedin that bed?Dad!” he shouts through the door. “I can’t sleep in here!”
Theo steps into the room, Archie’s toothbrush in his hand. “Cal, we can pick up another mattress tomorrow. You’ll just have to make do for one night.”
“Actually, we can swap it with the one in our room,” I suggest, cheerily. “That way we won’t have to buy another.”
Theo agrees and the two of us heave the mattress off our bed and haul it through the house, trying not to let it catch on the dusty floor.
“You’re sure nobody died on this one?” Callum asks, as we toss it onto his bed.
“Positive!” Theo and I say in unison. We look at each other and smile.
