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A Long Way From Saddleton Primary School
‘You’re Harry’s mum, aren’t you? Oliver spotted him out of the window of the van. I thought you looked like you might need help — and maybe a cuppa.’
‘I’m sorry, I … I wasn’t expecting … There’s no need to help, I’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t mind. Between the two of us we’ll get this pitched much quicker than you would on your own.’
‘You don’t have to.’ Amy picked up the mallet, trying to look competent and confident.
‘I know, but I’d like to. Here, you hold the pole upright, I’ll hammer,’ he suggested, taking the mallet from her hand and moving the stubborn peg half an inch to the left. With two firm blows the peg was in the ground.
This was awkward. Out of the whole world, she and Harry must be the last people he would want to see in the tent next door.
‘Is Oliver still very upset?’ she asked.
‘Upset?’ He straightened up and looked at her.
‘About Harry.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ He didn’t seem to know what she was talking about.
‘I mean, because of what went on at school. The cupboard incident, and all the other stuff,’ she said softly, so Harry wouldn’t hear. ‘It must have been a shock when he saw Harry right here. If it would help, I could move pitches, so we aren’t so close. I don’t want Harry to make Oliver unhappy.’
‘Don’t worry! It’s taken you nearly an hour to get this far so I wouldn’t ask you to move your tent now. Olly seemed pleased to see Harry, to be fair. There aren’t many other kids on the site and he was looking for someone to play with.’
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’
‘Yeah, I’m sure. We’re a long way from Saddleton Primary School now. We can leave all that behind.’ He looked into her tent peg bag and seemed unimpressed. ‘Have you got any rock pegs?’
She looked at him blankly. ‘I don’t think so, only what came with the tent. They’re made of metal, though, not stone.’
His mouth half-twisted into a smile. Was he laughing at her attempts to pitch a tent? ‘I’ve got some spares. We didn’t need all ours for the awning. Wait there, I’ll go and find some.’
As if she was going to go anywhere, with a half-erected tent. She took a mouthful of the tea he’d brought her; it was hot and very welcome. She could hear him rummaging in his awning and then he reappeared with a rattling plastic box and a mallet which looked like a serious murder weapon compared to her small wooden one.
‘If we work on it together, we’ll have the tent up quickly. Those pegs of yours aren’t suitable for anything except back garden camping. These are made for rocky ground.’ He glanced over at Harry, who was currently hitting the rocks with the little mallet. ‘That thing’s very lightweight for this kind of terrain. It’s no surprise you’re struggling. It’s a decent tent, though. It’s been well looked after and made to last.’
There was a knocking from the campervan, and Oliver pressed his face against the window. Amy tensed, awaiting the inevitable fuss.
‘Cool! Oliver’s here, Mam!’ Harry rushed over to the campervan and pulled silly faces at Oliver through the window.
‘I don’t know if Oliver will like that.’ Amy watched for signs of tears or unhappiness.
‘It’s okay, Mam,’ Harry said cheerfully, ‘Oliver’s fine.’ Indeed, Oliver was pulling faces back again.
‘Come and play Goat Gunge!’ Oliver shouted from the window. ‘I’ve got Coke too!’
‘Can I, Mam? Can I?’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said, dubiously, glancing over her shoulder towards Oliver’s dad, trying to read his reaction to Harry’s request, but as he was hammering, all she could see was the top of his head, which didn’t give much away. ‘I thought you didn’t like playing with Oliver?’
‘Only if Darcey-Mae is there. She’s not in there is she?’ he asked Oliver’s dad, his face a picture of dismay.
‘No, Harry, Darcey-Mae isn’t here,’ Oliver’s dad said with a grin, straightening up and opening the plastic peg box to find another peg. ‘Go on, go and keep Oliver company, while I help your mum.’
‘I’m not sure you should go in the campervan if you’re covered in sheep poo!’ Amy said to Harry. ‘Perhaps you should play outside?’ At least then she’d be able to see what was going on and make sure Harry and Oliver were getting along. ‘He’s filthy. He can’t go in there!’ she said apologetically to Oliver’s dad.
‘That doesn’t matter. We’re in the Lake District. What’s a bit of sheep poo between friends?’
