Footsteps sounded on the small porch outside the cabin, and a soft knock came at the door.
‘Mr H?’ Lachie’s quiet voice came from outside, and Spencer prayed he’d locked the door earlier.
Clem threw him an ‘oh shit’ look and silently climbed off the couch, gathering up her phone.
‘Just a minute, mate,’ Spencer called, clearing his throat. ‘I’m coming.’
He almost bumped into Clem as they hurried to clear away the evidence of a two-person supper, reminding him of the car park collision that had preceded their first kiss.
‘Two seconds, Lachie. Just trying to find my things,’ he called, buying some time. Clem’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.
‘You should turn the big light on, Mr H, that makes it heaps easier to find things. And it’s freezing out here.’
This was what he’d signed up for, this was the exact scenario he’d faced on countless camps over his career. As the token male teacher, he was on call for any boy-specific issues that might arise. And until this Grampians trip, he’d risen to the challenge without falter. But as Clem squeezed past, grabbing his butt and pressing a kiss onto his cheek before shutting herself in the bathroom, he was aware there was something else rising to the challenge, and it wasn’t his flawless teaching record.
Clear your head, man. This is work, not a dirty long weekend.
The fresh air was what he needed and though he was confident Clem was out of sight, he lingered in the doorway, blocking Lachie’s view into the room, just to be safe. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to reassure Lachie he was highly unlikely to sleepwalk all the way to the challenge swingin the middle of the night, strap himself into the harness and singlehandedly hoist himself to the top.
‘Remember how many students it took to haul the ropes that raise the swing? Even a kid as strong and muscly as you couldn’t do that all by yourself. Especially in the dark. Certainly not in the middle of the night.’
Lachie still didn’t look convinced. Spencer blew on his hands, rubbing them together and wishing he’d pulled on his jacket before heading outside. Would Clem be in the bathroom still, or would she be snuggled up in his bed? He found himself daydreaming about the latter possibility, but knew the first option was the smartest.
Though if Lachie asked to use his bathroom, they’d be screwed either way. He needed to get this locked down. ASAP.
‘Let’s go to the bathroom block,’ he said, loud enough for Clem’s benefit. ‘You can wash your face with warm water and go to the loo. Always works a treat for me when I’ve had a nightmare.’ He guided the young boy off his porch and clamped an arm around his shoulder, partly to comfort him, but also to prevent him looking back and spotting Clem, who Spencer hoped would take the opportunity to return to her cabin. Otherwise their decision to respect the professional setting might fall to the wayside.
The wait will be worth it though,he thought, smiling to himself as he ushered Lachie inside the toilet block, where moths fluttered around the floodlight. He looked at the helpless creatures, knowing exactly how they felt.
There were clean sheets hanging on the line when Clem pulled into Sunny Cross Farm the next afternoon, her heart full of camp memories, the boot full of luggage and Harriet fighting to stay awake.
‘Harriet,’ Clem said, rousing her tired daughter with a gentle shake. ‘Look who’s waiting for you.’
Clem waved across the driveway at Jack, who was sporting a moustache, and Lauren, who looked more dishevelled than Clem had ever seen her.
‘Where’s Indi?’ Harriet asked with yawn, fumbling with her seatbelt.
‘She crashed out on the couch,’ Jack said, helping Harriet with the buckle. ‘Apparently she and Reggie are wreaking havoc on the Gumnut room at daycare, and we were up a few times last night with a wet bed.’
He looked up and Clem clapped her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t a real moustache, it was drawn on.
‘What happened?’
‘Your little Picasso happened,’ Jack said with a wry grin.
Lauren came over, her straight blonde hair looking more like a bird’s nest than its usual blow-dried perfection. Clem scanned her, hoping Indi hadn’t drawn on her too, but it looked like Lauren had fared even worse, with a jagged patch of hair at eyebrow level.
She groaned. ‘Please tell me Indi didn’t play hairdressers?’
‘Everything’s fine, Clem. It went smoothly, really, just a few hiccups that didn’t seem worth worrying you about. How was camp? The photos on the school Facebook page looked fantastic. You’re braver than me going on the high ropes course.’
Harriet perked up then. ‘Mum screamed the loudest out of everyone on the challenge swing, she said she might’ve even wet her pants! In front of all the boys! It was so embarrassing. But she was awesome at archery and we had a great time, didn’t we Mum?’
Clem nodded, her heart full as Harriet raved about the activities they’d done together. The talent show didn’t even rate a mention.
Phew, looks like she’s made peace with the bungled performance.
Clem tugged at her sticky shirt, eager to get out of her rumpled travelling clothes. While she’d been lucky to score a seat with the homesick kids rather than the carsick kids on the return bus trip, she’d managed to spill takeaway coffee on her shirt, and the curried egg sandwiches from her seat buddy’s lunch had been equally unforgiving on her sleeve.
