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Understatement of the year.
“Well, let’s dry it!”
Adam may be more of a hindrance than help as we dismantle the tent and hang it up to dry over the hedgerows, but his fits of laughter when I pretend to be caught in the wind with the tent as a parachute lifts my spirit. God, how I love this boy.
“Can we go see Rosie?” he asks when all parts of the tent are tied down to branches.
“Maybe later, you’re meeting Laura, remember?”
“Oh, yes! We’re going to Barry’s! I’m going on the rides!”
He lets out a high pitched squeal as I grab his arms and spin in a circle, pretending to be a live carousel with him flying in the air. Eventually, I strap him in the car and drive down to the car park by Runcary Beach. Adam’s aunt and uncle – and his cousin Laura – are already there when we arrive. I used to be close to them, but no matter how amicable the separation from Alison has been, it has placed a wedge in my relationship with her family – they belong only to Alison now, I’m not part of that family anymore. Which is also why I’m not invited to go with them on their day trip to the amusement park, only Adam.
“Are you enjoying camping, Adam?” his uncle Daniel asks.
Adam nods so hard his blond hair shakes, and I’m glad we didn’t spend the night in the car. God knows what his answer would have been then. “I rode Rosie. She’s soooo cute!”
“Who is Rosie? A pony?” Laura asks, prompting Adam to give a detailed explanation of all things Rosie.
“So we’ll meet here again at, say five?” Daniel asks in the middle of my son’s tale, eager to get going. “Or do you want us to drive up to the campsite?”
I snort. “Here is good. Even with a map, there’s a good chance you’d get lost on the way to the campsite – it’s really badly signposted and the GPS won’t work.”
“Right?” Daniel furrows his brow and tucks his chin in.
“It’s a great place though,” I rush to add, not wanting to badmouth Julie and Trevor’s campsite, knowing how hard they work.
I walk down to the beach after waving goodbye. It’s busy with people wanting a bit of the healthy life of the north coast. Couples holding hands, breathing in the fresh air or playing with their kids and dogs. My head drops as I walk there alone, my feet hardly making footprints in the packed sand. The emptiness inside me is bigger without Adam next to me. I stop where the sandy beach gives way to a small stretch of pebbles. The white tips of the waves crash in and I listen to the small rocks rolling when the waves pull back into the sea.
I can stall as much as I like, but I need to get back to the campsite.
10
Rolling in the Hay
The tent is resurrected and positioned closer to the campsite facilities. The pump-up bed has been re-inflated – inside the tent this time. I chuckle to myself as I admire my work, I’m almost a pro at this now.
I jump at the voice behind me. “You look awfully proud of yourself.”
For a moment, I’m worried Trevor knows about my night visitor, but his relaxed demeanour as he steps up to me makes my shoulders drop.
“For such a big guy, you have a way of sneaking up on people.”
Trevor smirks. “Sure, I’m a big guy.”
I huff and roll my eyes, but embarrassingly, my cheeks go hot.
“Where’s Adam?”
“He’s at Barry’s with his aunt and uncle.” At Trevor’s raised eyebrow, I explain, “My ex’s brother. They are up for the day.”
“Day trippers,” he snorts. “Cause traffic havoc so they do.”
“They also sometimes stay on campsites and line your pocket,” I add in a dry tone.
“Fair enough.” The corner of his mouth tilts in acknowledgement and then he shakes his head. A curl that has escaped his ponytail swishing along his jaw. “I don’t understand how you can cope living in the city. I break out in hives just driving through Portrush with its one traffic light. Ten miles an hour high up on a tractor is my preference.”
“You really are a farmer, aren’t you?” I chuckle.
