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‘Half the time Oliver’s only pretending to be upset, I’m sure of it. He used to have his mother wrapped around his little finger. One tremble of the lip from him and she’d move mountains to give him what he wanted. Now he does it all the time. One little thing he doesn’t like — an itchy label in his T-shirt, no tissues left in the tissue box, the wrong kind of potato … Sometimes I have to step away from it all or I’ll say something I’ll regret.’
‘Harry’s the opposite. He’ll pretend nothing bothers him, he’ll tell you everything’s fine, and then the next thing the school are ringing me again to tell me he’s hit someone.’
‘It’s great to be able to talk to someone. I’ve missed it.’ He thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘Maybe when we get home we could meet up from time-to-time? You know, so the boys can play. They’d like that, I think.’
‘I think they would. I’d like it too. Some adult conversation with another parent. James is the only one I have to talk to, but parenting seems to have become a kind of competitive sport between us and I’m constantly on the losing side.’
‘Seems to me you’re doing okay,’ he said.
‘Thanks, Matt. You too.’
They were both looking at the red tent. ‘Well, I’ll head up to see Mrs. Thompson,’ he said after a slight pause.
‘Can you wait a few minutes until Harry’s had breakfast? I’d like to go up and see Mrs. Thompson with him. He wants to ask her about taking Jen the dog for a walk.’
* * *
In the end they all walked up the field together. Other than Ty, who dodged out of sight when he saw them, there was no movement from the big, red tent, though the sound of snoring could be clearly heard, floating over the valley in the morning air. It was, for the first time since they’d arrived, a proper summer morning and Amy felt with relish the warmth of the sun on her bare arms.
Matt knocked on the door and Mrs. Thompson opened it almost at once.
‘Good morning, Mrs. Thompson,’ he said politely. ‘I wonder if we can have a word about the people in the red tent? They were quite rowdy last night.’
‘You’d better come in, then.’ She ushered them into the kitchen.
‘Is Jen the dog here?’ Harry was quick to ask. ‘Can Oliver see her?’
‘Eh, I’m sorry love. Our Peter’s taken her for a walk round Loverswater. He’s out to check on some damage to a stone wall and he’s taken old Jen with him for company, like.’
There were two disappointed faces, but neither of them made a fuss.
Amy looked round at the old kitchen with its huge range cooker at the end away from the window, an ancient ceramic sink and the big kitchen table which had been there when she was a little girl. She’d helped Mrs. Thompson to put the eggs into egg boxes on the table all those years ago.
‘There was some noise last night. Very late, very loud. I wondered if perhaps you or your son might have a word with them?’ Matt said.
‘You’re not the first to be up here this morning. That nice quiet couple in the little old fashioned canvas tent have complained too. I’ll get our Peter to come down and sort it all out when he gets back. He’ll see they don’t make any trouble.’
‘Have you ever thought about having a curfew time at night? A lot of the campsites I’ve stayed at do,’ Matt suggested.
‘Ay, we’ve thought about it, but we’re too old, at our time of life, for making up lists of rules and regulations. Forty years or more the campsite’s been fine without ‘em. Just got bad recently, like. Perhaps next year — or perhaps it would be easier to close up. It’s more trouble than it’s worth, this campsite. We get nowt but complaints.’
‘Don’t do that! It would be such a shame. You’re in such a beautiful place here,’ Amy said.
‘Eh well. Never you mind about that. We’ll sort out them noisy folk, and maybe you lads would like to pop back tomorrow and see if Jen would like a walk? She’ll be too tired today after she’s been up to the tarn and back.’
‘Can we really?’ Harry asked.
‘Well, I said you could, didn’t I? As long as you’ve been good.’ Mrs. Thompson winked to Amy.
‘We’ve been good. We’ve been really, really good. I even helped with the washing up!’ Harry said proudly.
He had been good enough to gain another two stickers on the infernal behaviour chart, Amy reflected, though his help with the washing up hadn’t been entirely committed. Only a dozen more to go before she had to hand it over to James and Laurie at the end of the week.
‘Eh, you know, I remember you when you were that age,’ Mrs. Thompson said, nodding towards Harry and Oliver as they were turning to leave. ‘Do you remember coming for your tea here that time? You wouldn’t eat your greens and you cried for your mummy. I remember now. It’s strange the things you forget and the things you remember. I can still see your little face, tears streaming, crying for your mummy to come. Soon cheered up when you saw the apple crumble and custard I’d made for pudding, though!’ she added, with a grin.
‘I’d forgotten all about that.’ Now Mrs. Thompson mentioned it, she remembered watching the footpath from the lane for her mother to come up it, and being rather awed by old Mr. Thompson, seated in true patriarchal fashion at the head of the table, a newspaper in his hand, waiting for his tea. There was one thing that escaped her. ‘Where was my mam? I don’t know why I came to your house for tea that day.’
‘She asked us to babysit so she could have some time to herself, like. She wanted to go swimming in Loverswater, I think, that night. It was moonlight when she came back, and I remember that beautiful long hair of hers was dripping wet, but she looked so happy. Loved the water back then, didn’t she, your mam? I often wondered what happened to her after she stopped coming here. Did she ever settle down or get married, like? She was such an independent soul, your mother.’
