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She expected Harry to be defiant and difficult, but Oliver? The apple of the teachers’ eyes, Mrs. Fenton’s darling, the boy her rough and tumble son bullied until he made him cry? This couldn’t be the same child, could it?
As she was wondering what to do she heard the scatter of gravel on the track down from the farm and Matt was back, sweating and muddy, but younger, happier, more alive than he had looked when he set off.
‘Everything okay?’ He was breathing heavily as he took some gulps of water from a bottle he’d left tucked inside the awning.
‘Fine. Oliver seems to be —’ she began, not knowing how to put it, glancing over her shoulder to where Oliver sat in the campervan. His taut, angry expression instantly morphed into something else.
‘Daddy, I don’t like being here without you. I don’t like Harry’s mum, she tried to make me give my game to that boy over there, and I didn’t want to because he scared me.’
It wasn’t how Amy remembered the situation.
‘That’s not quite true, is it Oliver?’ she began. ‘I only asked you to let him come and play with you. He’s all on his own, and —’
‘Don’t leave me on my own like that again, Daddy, you were so long. I don’t want you to go again. I want my mummeeee.’ The wailing began again, the sobbing and the hiccupping — but as before, there were no tears.
‘I didn’t ask him to give the game to the little boy. I thought, as he’s on his own, that it might be nice for the boys to play together.’
Matt was hugging his son and not listening. He was more concerned about Oliver.
‘Anyway, now you’re back I’ll start making the supper. Harry, could you come and help me please?’
‘I want to play more Goat —’
‘Not now, Harry. I need your help with the …’ Nobody would believe she needed Harry to help with the cooking. Not even Harry was that naïve. ‘… tidying up.’
‘What’s up then, Olly?’ she heard Matt ask. ‘Tell me all about it, old man.’
‘Mam? Why are you hanging on so tight?’ Harry asked.
She hustled him back to the tent.
‘I think Oliver needs time with his dad, that’s all,’ she hissed as she opened the tent door. ‘He’s upset.’
‘Ignore Oliver, Mam. He’s always like that.’
‘What do you mean, he’s always like that?’
‘I told you before. He only cries when he wants stuff his own way or Darcey-Mae says to.’
‘Oh Harry!’ She gave him a big hug. He might be naughty, he might be impulsive, and he might not always do what he was told, but Matt was right. At least there was a certain honesty to Harry’s naughtiness.
