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Burning Things
Make the most of today they did. Amy spent the last of their holiday money on some burgers, baked potatoes and marshmallows for their fire — enough for Matt and Oliver too, if they wanted. It would be their last night under canvas. Up at the farm, she borrowed a firepit from old Mr. Thompson, whose accent was so strong she could barely understand a word he said. By the time she got it hot enough to cook on, after several false starts and some helpful advice from the backpackers in the nearest tent, Matt and Oliver still weren’t back and it was nearly seven o’clock. Perhaps they weren’t coming, and they’d decided to go to the pub again. Perhaps Matt was avoiding her. She couldn’t blame him, after James had punched him; maybe it was another sign things weren’t meant to be. The hope that had started to flicker in her heart was fading and dying, much like the flames on the firepit the first time she’d tried to light it. And the second. And the third.
The fire was blazing nicely when she heard the distinctive roar of the little campervan struggling up the lane. It seemed to move very slowly, passing between the stone walls and over the slate bridge.
‘There’s Oliver!’ she said cheerfully to Harry.
‘And there’s Oliver’s dad, Mam!’ he replied with a snort of laughter.
‘Look! Dad! Harry’s got a campfire!’ she heard Oliver shout as he jumped out of the campervan. It was a left-hand-drive, being from America, so it surprised her to see Oliver hop out of what should have been the driver’s seat.
‘I’m cooking burgers on the fire.’ Amy smiled. ‘Would you like one?’
Oliver looked dubious, as if he remembered he didn’t like her, but the smell of the burgers and the excitement of the fire soon took over.
‘I suppose. If Harry is,’ he said, grudgingly. ‘And if Dad says so. Can we, Dad?’
Matt came round from the far side of the campervan where he’d been attaching the drive-away awning, smiled, and caught her eye. ‘That would be great!’ he said, and her hopes rose.
‘Come on, Oliver, we can find things to put on the fire. Let’s do experiments!’ Harry said, and away went the two boys, looking for things to burn.
‘We haven’t had much of a chance to talk,’ she said to Matt, keeping one eye on the boys and the other on the fire. ‘I’m so sorry about yesterday. Are you okay?’
‘Absolutely fine. James can talk the talk, but when it comes to punching … well, let’s just say it wasn’t as bad as it looked. I was pretty surprised, though, I don’t mind admitting it. Knocked the wind out of me, but nothing worse.’
‘James is known for his temper, and he likes to get his own way.’
‘He didn’t hit you, did he?’ Matt asked.
‘No! Never. He argues a lot, but he would never lay a finger on me or Harry.’
‘I’m too laid back for my own good, I guess. It takes a lot to make me angry,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve never been in a fight in my whole life — even at school — and I’d never lift a finger against anyone, unless I had to stop them hurting someone I … someone I cared for.’
He met her eye, and she didn’t know where to look. If she turned to her right, Harry was picking up sheep poo from down by the beck to try and burn it. If she looked to her left, Oliver was hungrily watching the burgers cooking. If she looked straight ahead, there was Matt, his eyes as hungry as his son’s but for a different reason. She understood and she nodded, almost imperceptibly.
It was hot on this campsite all of a sudden. Hot and … smoky … and there was a smell of burning meat …
‘There’s a burger on fire,’ Oliver pointed out calmly, and their moment went up in flames with the meat.
‘Oh no!’ It had fallen through the cooking grill and onto the fire, blazing and spitting. By the time she managed to get it out it was covered in ash and very chargrilled.
‘Never mind. That one can be mine!’ said Matt. ‘Give it here, I’ll clean off the worst of the ash. We’ll talk later.’
It was no good; the burger was beyond edible, and Matt ended up putting it in the bin. By the time all the food was ready, the night was falling and so was the temperature as the wind rose.
'Peter Thompson said there’s a storm coming.’ Amy said as she put a sweatshirt on and Matt looked up at the sky.
‘I think he’s got a point. I’m going to take down the awning of the campervan tonight,’ he said. ‘I don’t think I’ll take any chances with the weather and I’ll put it away while it’s dry — it’s a right pain to dry if it’s put away wet. I can roll it up and stow it under the van — if I take care to avoid the oil leak — for tonight. We can do without it for one night. Oliver and Harry, I wonder if you could help me? Then you can burn stuff.’
Amy headed up to do the washing up, as the boys seemed to be helping Matt very enthusiastically, if not necessarily in the most effective manner, and by the time she returned, the awning was down. She took the grill off the fire basket and threw a couple more logs on it so they could sit round, toast marshmallows and watch the sun go down behind the mountains.
More marshmallows were incinerated than toasted and eaten. Burning things was fun, and neither of the boys seemed to like the taste of toasted marshmallow that much, especially after Oliver loudly and dramatically burnt his mouth and refused to eat any more.
Eventually it grew completely dark. There were no streetlights, though a faint glow lit the sky from the direction of Penrith behind them. Ahead and in front of them, hanging over the valley, were a myriad of glittering stars and the silhouettes of the mountains dark against the purple sky. A smudge of starlight might even have been the Milky Way. It was so beautiful out there in the darkness. Amy attempted to move her camping chair closer to Matt’s in the firelight. If they were closer perhaps they would be able to talk — or at the very least whisper — to each other without the boys hearing, now they were intent on poking the fire with sticks and trying to burn dandelion leaves, but before she had a chance to shuffle more than a couple of centimetres towards Matt, Oliver was in between them.
‘Dad, tell me about the stars?’
‘Oh, Oliver, I’m not sure.’
