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‘No, it’s isn’t our kids that did this, it was those campers, the ones in the red tent —’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ he said, heaving the biggest of the stones back into position. ‘Is it them kids getting between you and your man?’
Why on earth was that any of his business? She looked at him curiously as he manoeuvred the stones with his back to her. ‘He’s not my man, but I suppose … well, it isn’t helping. They don’t, do they, kids?’
He turned round to face her, his gaze locked on hers, sudden and penetrating.
‘No. They don’t,’ he said firmly, and something about the way he said it made her feel a sudden vague sense of shame. Why should he want to make her feel guilty about putting her son first? She looked down, away, anywhere but at his direct blue eyes as she began to pick up the litter the campers had left, hoping Harry would come back with the bin bag soon.
‘Like mother, like daughter, I daresay,’ he muttered, turning back to the wall to fit some of the remaining smaller stones back into the patchwork. It wasn’t right; he was doing his best, but you could see the stones that had been replaced weren’t fitting into the ancient pattern like they had done once. Everything was out of place today.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t —’ she began, but Harry interrupted.
‘Here. Bin bag,’ he said, abruptly thrusting it at her. ‘Can I walk your dog today?’ he asked Peter.
‘I guess so, if you come this evening. Bring that other little lad if you want, give your mam some peace and quiet.’
‘I’m not sure if Harry and Oliver should be walking the dog on their own!’ she protested. ‘Matt or I will —’
‘She’s a good old lass, our Jen. They’ll not go wrong with her if they stick to the track. Give you and your man a bit of peace, won’t it?’
‘Yeah!’ Harry was enthusiastic.
‘Harry, are you going to help pick up some of the rubbish?’ Amy asked.
Peter had finished the wall. It was whole again, but it didn’t look like it had done before. You could see the scars.
‘What a shame people have to destroy things like this. Such a beautiful place. No respect.’ Amy said sadly, as she picked up another empty bottle.
‘Ay,’ Peter agreed.
‘Sometimes people don’t even seem to realise. They take something precious and they destroy it and they don’t even know what they’re doing.’
‘Ay. There’s plenty who do that.’
‘People like that make me so angry,’ she said, thinking of Darcey-Mae’s mother and her poisonous friends on the playground, and of Laurie and James’s habitual disapproval of everything she did. She didn’t want to go back to their world at the end of the holiday; she wanted to be left alone.
‘Sometimes they don’t know they’re doing it.’ Peter looked at her again, with an obscure challenge in his eyes.
‘Then perhaps we should tell them.’ She imagined herself walking up to Mrs. Fenton and telling her exactly what she thought of her desire to see Harry get into trouble. It wasn’t the first time she’d let that scene play in her mind, but she’d never been brave enough to do it.
‘It’s not easy is it?’ Peter added. ‘Not with folks like this.’ He gestured around him at the mess the campers had left.
‘You’re right. At least they’re long gone,’ she said, looking down the lane towards the bottom of the valley.
‘Ay.’ He gave a deep sigh that seemed to regret something more than a bunch of unruly campers. ‘Long gone.’
She would have asked him what he meant had not Harry, at that precise moment and with huge excitement, found a half-eaten pie with some maggots in it.
* * *
It didn’t take too long to finish picking up the rubbish, and then she and Harry headed off to spend the day at the steam railway where she could try and forget about Matt. It was a day of sunshine and showers. The steam railway was more or less to Harry’s taste; they walked along the track beside the railway for a while, and he raced the trains, and enjoyed the ride back again, and the ice cream in the tea shop afterwards.
How quickly the holiday had flown past. Tomorrow was their last full day and then it would be back to normality; to concrete and dusty streets and the smell of heat on the pavements. Neighbours watching sport, loudly, with their windows wide open and drunks in the street, enticed out by the warmth. Harry would go to Florida with his dad and Laurie and Amy would be on her own. It wasn’t a prospect she was relishing.
As they drove back up the valley to Elder Fell Farm she saw the little red-and-white campervan parked back in the field, but the awning was closed so it looked like there was nobody at home. Matt might already have walked with Oliver down to the pub for tea. She drove carefully over the slate bridge and up the little twisting road, before she let Harry out to open the gate for her.
‘There’s Dad’s car!’ Harry said, pointing at a black saloon parked on the campsite, not far from their tent. It did look a lot like James’ car, but it couldn’t be; Harry was always getting the wrong end of the stick.
