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‘I went outside and played cricket with Oliver and Darcey-Mae, and I’ve been avoiding her ever since. I don’t know how to deal with women like that. Stella was so straightforward, always said what she meant. Nessa Fenton is more complicated. She seems so sensible on the surface, but underneath … ’ Matt said, running his hand through his hair. ‘And she’s so forceful. It’s hard to say no to her.’
‘She scares me too, always complaining about Harry. It’s no surprise Darcey-Mae —’ she cut short what she’d been going to say, aware that Oliver and Darcey-Mae were best friends.
‘I know what you mean. But let’s not talk about them now. I hoped we could forget about all that playground stuff, up here in the wilds. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.’
‘You hoped you could forget it until Oliver’s worst enemy turned up in the tent next door. That must have been a hell of a shock.’
‘Harry isn’t Oliver’s worst enemy, not by a long way. I think they get on reasonably well without Darcey-Mae to stir things up. Now, don’t tell our new neighbours, but I’m one of the lucky people with a hook-up, so the boys can watch a film or something later in the evening if you want.’
‘If you’re sure you’re happy for Oliver to play with Harry?’
‘Of course I am. Like I said, I like him. Harry can’t —’
But she never found out what Matt thought Harry couldn’t, because at that moment both boys staggered up the field, covered in sheep poo, with Oliver crying his eyes out.
‘Harry pushed me over in the pooooooo!’
‘He pushed me first.’
‘Mine was an accident you did it on purpose.’
‘Did NOT!’
‘Come on Harry. Don’t start a fight. Matt, thanks for the offer, but d’you know, I think the boys have spent enough time together for one day. I’m so sorry. Come on, Harry, say sorry to Oliver and let’s get you cleaned up right now.’
Just as she’d begun to think things were going well between them, Harry had to do something like this.
‘Why did you push him, Harry?’
‘Felt like it.’ He gave a half-hearted shrug.
It wasn’t helpful.
* * *
‘It tastes like poo.’
Amy could hear Oliver’s anguished declaration from right inside the tent. She couldn’t hear Matt’s reply, but Oliver’s wailing got louder.
‘I don’t want any more stupid explorers’ food. I don’t like it.’
There was another muttered reply which she couldn’t hear.
‘Mummy cooked proper food in the campervan. I want my mummy!’
The distinctive sound of the campervan door sliding open, and Matt stepped out into the open air, clinging onto the grey canvas fabric of the awning as if for dear life. A look of sheer anguish crossed his face.
‘Oh God,’ she heard him mutter.
He must miss Stella very much. It must be very, very hard for him, coming on holiday like this without her for the first time. That empty mug in the campervan was only the start, the obvious sign of what he had lost. It was hard enough for Amy to be reminded about her mam everywhere she went, but for Matt to lose his wife and to have to carry on as if everything was normal for his son as well as himself …
She didn’t want to watch him any more, didn’t want to intrude on such anguish, so she turned her attention back to the onions she was chopping to fry with the sausages. That’s what was making her eyes prickle with tears, the onions. That’s all it was.
