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It took a couple of attempts, but once the wheels hit the tracks and the motorhome picked up traction and got back onto the grass rather than the mud it had churned up, it was away. Mrs. Motorhome was going to stop, but Matt motioned for her to keep going until she’d reversed all the way back to the track, so they didn’t get stuck again.
‘Cheers mate. The wife’ll be glad to get out of this place!’ said Mr. Motorhome.
‘You can’t beat the scenery,’ Amy pointed out, feeling a surge of loyalty to Elder Fell Farm. ‘It’s so peaceful. Nothing but the noise of the beck and the sheep.’ And two small boys in the distance still shouting “bonky bonky” and bouncing on an airbed, but she wasn’t going to mention that.
‘Each to their own. I’d rather have a mobile signal and a fully serviced hardstanding pitch myself. Thanks for your help.’
‘They do have a point, I suppose,’ said Matt as they walked back down the gentle slope of the campsite to the bottom where they were both pitched. ‘When you look around you see what could be done here. The showers and the toilets are fairly basic.’
‘There’s no point in putting in hardstanding for caravans. You’d never get one up the lane.’
‘No, but there’s so much else you could do. I’ve seen a lot of those wooden camping pods around the Lakes, much better for out-of-season camping. They extend the season and bring in people who wouldn’t want to sleep in a tent. Or ready-pitched glamping tents, you know, those old-fashioned canvas bell-tents with proper beds and everything inside. They’re very popular.’
‘Mr. and Mrs. Thompson will never want to do that, not at their age.’
‘I do wonder what will happen to this place when they can’t manage any more. I know there’s the son, but he’s already running the farm, isn’t he?’
‘I guess the campsite will disappear. Or he’ll have to bring in someone to manage it properly.’
‘Then they’ll have to raise the site fees to cover their salary — and with facilities like this, you can’t charge more than they already do.’ He looked down at the muddy wheel-ruts left by the motorhome.
‘So, the campsite will fall into disuse, like the cottage,’ Amy said.
‘I guess so.’ He was picking up the tracks from the mud, putting them back in a special bag.
‘That’s very organised,’ she said, nodding at the muddy tracks. ‘Do you get the campervan stuck in the mud sometimes?’
‘Occasionally. I always carry kit like that — all my spares for the van, plus other bits and pieces. I don’t like to get caught out — professional pride!’
‘Is that what you do then? Are you a mechanic or something?’
‘I work for a breakdown firm and I suppose you’d call me a petrolhead. I spend my life getting other people’s vehicles back on the road so I try not to let my own end up on the hard shoulder! What is it you do?’
She sighed. ‘I used to work in Geldart’s — the little baker’s in Saddleton — but it didn’t work out. It’s so hard to find work that fits round Harry since I lost Mam, so at the moment I’m unemployed. I miss getting out there to work, but Harry has to come first.’
‘I’m lucky I’ve got Oliver’s grannies to help out.’
‘There’s always James, but I don’t want to ask him. He thinks he should have custody of Harry. Every time something goes wrong he suggests it, and I don’t want him to think I can’t manage. I will not give him an excuse to take Harry away from me.’
‘James is your ex?’
‘That’s right. My self-important, self-centred, selfish ex. I can’t believe I stuck it out with him for as long as I did. We only stayed together for Harry.’
He looked upset. She must have said the wrong thing. He hadn’t had any choice in the end of his marriage to Stella, so to talk about her own as if it was something disposable wasn’t kind. They walked towards the tent in silence and Matt put his head inside to look for the boys.
‘They’re in the bedroom at the back,’ Amy pointed out, so he opened the door to reveal Harry and Oliver, heads together, as usual playing on Goat Gunge.
‘Mam? I think one of the air beds might have gone down a bit,’ Harry admitted sheepishly.
‘We’ll sort it later. Probably the plug’s come out,’ she said, crossing her fingers. If the airbed had burst, she’d be sleeping on the ground tonight; there was no way she could afford to replace it. Although perhaps Matt would have something for repairing tyres in his campervan she could use on the airbed? But that was a problem for later. Just now she wanted to take Harry out for the day.
‘Come on then, Olly, let’s get going. Off to the chocolate shop!’ said Matt.
‘Yeah!’ Oliver replied, turning off Goat Gunge without any ceremony.
‘You’ve got it looking lovely in here,’ Matt said as Oliver was gathering up all his things. ‘Looks cosy.’
‘I like to make places feel like home,’ she said, thinking of her tiny flat and how bland and soulless it had looked when she moved in. White walls, beige carpets and grey furniture, rather like the interior of his campervan. It hadn’t taken her long to craft throws, cushions, rag-rugs and wall hangings to transform it; she liked to bring colour with her wherever she went, even an old tent in a field in Cumbria.
