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I suck in a sharp breath of air and quickly shift my gaze away from the big man. Who is this Trevor guy? Her boyfriend? Her boss? Both? He doesn’t look much older than me, perhaps even younger, late twenties? But he oozes the authority of someone way older.
He steps into the room and I can’t help the feeling that I’m being assessed and found lacking. His nod in my direction is slow and his voice deep. “Jamie.” His face softens ever so slightly as his focus drops to the boy on my hip. “And who have we got here?”
“Tell the man your name,” I prompt.
“Adam,” is whispered against my neck.
“Adam can’t wait to see the cows,” Julie says, and the smile on her face defuses some of the tension in the room.
“Is that right?” Trevor faces us fully. “Would you like to see us milk the cows some day while you’re here, Adam?”
My son’s head snaps up. He quickly turns to me, eyes wide. “Can we, Dad?”
“If you’re a good boy, I don’t see why not.”
I ruffle his blond hair. Mine used to be that colour when I was his age. Mum would call me her “little ghost” due to my pale complexion. My hair has darkened with age – I keep it cut short – and my skin now even takes a bit of a tan during summer, but she will still tease me with her nickname. God, I miss her. I wish she didn’t live so far away. I squeeze Adam a bit closer to me and take in his rich brown eyes, a colour he inherited from Alison, so different from my light grey.
Turning those brown eyes at Trevor, Adam nods vigorously. “I’m a good boy.”
Trevor smirks for a second. “I bet you are. Right, what plot are they on?” He addresses the last bit to Julie.
“Oh, uh, just the field, no electric hook-up.”
“No hook-up.” Trevor nods slowly, his focus firmly on the blushing young woman. To me he says, “Continue straight. Kitchen, toilets and showers are at the end of this building. Turn left there and follow the path up to the field. You can park and pitch your tent anywhere to the right of the path.”
“Got it.”
We all turn to the sound of crunching gravel as another car comes to a halt outside.
I nod to Julie and add a little wink. “I’ll be seeing you.”
She blushes and those dimples appear again. “Bye, Adam!”
Three tiny fingers wave back at her. I wonder if she’ll have a chance to eat that ice cream before it melts.
Outside, I strap Adam in the back seat. I can hear the next customer complain about the lack of signage as I close the door – and almost walk straight into a wide, hard chest. I retreat a step and take in the scowl that is back on Trevor’s face.
His gaze travels the length of my body, sizing me up. A shiver erupts along my spine and I swallow tightly. I work out, but my lean swimmer’s body could never take on his bulk – he could lift baby cows for fun. He probably does.
“Now, Jamie,” he drawls. “Why don’t you be a good boy and stay away from my sister?”
With that he turns and leaves me standing there, stunned.
Sister.
I should have realised. He’s got the same startling blue eyes and thick brown hair.
“Good boy,” I huff and get into the car, slamming the door harder than intended.
Adam squeals happily when a playground with swings and a football net comes into view when I turn up the path and follow the dirt road that splits a large field in two. There are a few free spots on the left-hand side in between the row of large colourful tents and windbreakers. Adults and children mill around, laughing and playing or slouching in camp chairs while enjoying the afternoon sunshine. I sense them all stopping what they’re doing to watch my car come up the path.
I swallow tightly as I glance to the right. There, it’s only grass, no specific plots. And no tents.
I drive all the way to the end, park up on the grass and unload the car to the constant stream of cow chit-chat from my son. The chosen spot is probably a bad one, I should have pitched closer to the bathrooms, but I’m too embarrassed to reload everything back into the car. It feels like the eyes of the whole campsite are on me already – eyes on the loser who can’t afford a fiver extra for electric. The guy who can’t remember how to put up the tent he bought three years ago and has only used once. They’re looking at the stupid divorcé who only has a foot pump to inflate the mattress, and realises too late he should have inflated it inside the tent as the opening is too small to push the double mattress through.
Failure and despair hang heavy in the air around me as the evening crawls in.
I could tuck Adam to bed and light a fire in one of the wheelbase pits that are set out, but I can’t stand the thought of sitting there on my own, on display, looking at the large walk-in tents on the other side of the field, their attached gazebos, wetsuits hanging over windbreakers, families laughing, eating, drinking around large picnic tables…being on their happy holiday on the beautiful North Coast of Northern Ireland.
