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Harry Needs a Wee
Harry was visibly wriggling with desperation.
‘I wish you’d gone before we settled down, Harry!’
‘I wish we’d never come camping. I don’t want to go outside to the toilet, it’s stupid. Daddy said it was stupid.’
‘Did he, now? Well, you can’t go for a wee in the tent!’ She found his shoes underneath a pile of waterproof coats and snatched up the little torch attached to her car keys to light their way. Her phone might have been brighter, but she had stowed it under her pillow and they needed to go now. ‘Come on then, quick, quick!’ She tried to sound like some jolly Mary Poppins type, but she felt more like a harassed supply teacher as she pulled a red fleece on over her thin summer pyjamas. She hadn’t been considering midnight walks through the campsite to the toilet when she packed. ‘Quick as you can now!’
‘I’m going as quick as I can!’ Harry pushed his feet into his shoes without tying the laces. There wasn’t time.
‘But don’t run!’ she whispered after him, as he took off across the campsite in the darkness towards the toilets. She checked the time; it was half-past-one and everyone else on the campsite seemed to be asleep. ‘Harry, slow down! It’s dark, you might —’
It was too late. He already had.
In the darkness Harry had tripped, with a huge bang, over the guy ropes securing the awning of the Sutherlands’ campervan, rolled headfirst into the canvas and let out a huge cry of shock that echoed all round the valley, bouncing back off the very mountains.
‘Ow! Bollicks!’
‘Harry! Where are you hurt?’ Amy struggled up the field to get to him.
‘My knees hurt! And I’ve done a bit of a wee in my pyjamas,’ he wailed, way too loudly for half-past-one in a campsite.
People were stirring in the tents around them. Oh God, the whole campsite had heard.
‘Everything okay?’ It was a challenge rather than a polite enquiry, from a small backpackers’ tent to their left.
‘Sorry, my son fell over going to the toilet. So sorry …’
‘Perhaps you should be holding his hand in a place like this. I would have thought that was common sense.’
Maybe, but common sense and Harry sometimes didn’t go together very well. ‘I’m sorry we disturbed you. And thanks for your concern,’ she added ironically.
She helped Harry to his feet. His knee was her first worry, and when she shone the torch on it she could see that although there was a large graze it wasn’t deep. If she cleaned it up and put a plaster on, he’d have forgotten about it by the morning, but his clothes were another story; the top was muddy, there was a hole in the sleeve, and his trousers were wet through. She’d only brought a single set of pyjamas for him so he’d have to sleep in pants and a T-shirt until she could get them clean and stitch them back together.
‘Come on, let’s get to that toilet before there are any more accidents. Now, hold my hand, tightly.’
She got him to the toilet and left him tidying himself up and washing his muddy hands, whilst she headed back to the tent to get pants and a clean T-shirt, as well as the first-aid kit to deal with his knee. As she passed the campervan, the door slid open and Oliver Sutherland’s dad appeared inside the awning, illuminated by the light from inside the camper van and visible through the transparent plastic of the door. Oh goodness me, he didn’t wear much to sleep in, only a pair of shorts with a bare chest and legs … Oliver Sutherland’s dad was not a bad looking man, not bad looking at all.
Oh God! It was a very warm night, all of a sudden.
He had a runner’s build, taut, wiry and muscular, with tough-looking legs and a toned torso. He looked strong and capable, and with his untidy hair and midnight stubble he looked downright sexy too. Her heart was thumping in her chest.
Oliver Sutherland’s dad was hot, and it was a long time since she had looked at any man and thought that. In fact, after James, she was sure she’d never feel like that again. But this man was a grieving widower; she shouldn’t be looking at him in that way.
He opened the door of the awning, and she looked away, trying to pick out the outline of her own tent in the night.
‘I’m so sorry we woke you.’ She was conscious her voice was breathy.
‘I wasn’t asleep. I’m often awake in the night. Is Harry okay? I heard him fall over.’
‘He’s skinned his knee, that’s all.’ She focussed on what she needed to do for her son. ‘I’m going to patch him up, take him a clean top. I hope he hasn’t broken your awning. I couldn’t see any obvious damage, but I’ll have a good look in the daylight, and if there are any tears, I’ll repair them for you.’
‘As long as Harry’s okay. I’d normally put flags on our guys so people can see them at night, but when we pitched there wasn’t anyone on the far side of us, so I didn’t bother.’
‘I should’ve kept hold of him in the dark.’
‘We both know what boys are like. It was an accident. You can’t hold their hands all the time. One of those things; as long as he’s not hurt.’
