Fern Britton 3-Book Collection: The Holiday Home, A Seaside Affair, A Good Catch. Fern Britton

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      Abi? He looked up at the clock. Eight thirty-five. He’d better get her up.

      Holding a steaming cup of tea in one hand, he knocked gently at her bedroom door.

      ‘Come in,’ called a sleepy voice.

      He opened the door and saw a body shrouded in bedclothes.

      ‘Abi, it’s eight forty-five. You’ll be late for work.’

      A small hand with green-painted fingernails poked out of the duvet and pulled it down, revealing a dozy Abi.

      ‘Oh,’ she managed as she watched her uncle move various makeup-stained tissues, her phone, and a dirty hairbrush to one side of her bedside table in order to find a place for the mug.

      ‘Why didn’t anyone wake me?’

      ‘Well, everyone is still asleep. Did you forget to set your alarm?’

      She sank back on to the pillows, closing her eyes with a small frown. ‘Oh. Yuh. Thanks, Uncle Francis.’

      ‘Get up quickly and I’ll have some breakfast ready for you.’

      When she came down, Francis had made her a fried-egg sandwich and a packed lunch.

      ‘Thanks, Unc. You’re, like, the best.’

      They hugged one another and she set off across the lawn and through the private gate to the beach. He watched her go. Hair piled up in a bird’s nest, caught with a tortoiseshell comb, walking with a rumpled, exhausted pace. Lovely Abi. His favourite niece. Technically, his only niece, but he thought that even if there were other nieces she’d still be his favourite.

      *

      ‘Hiya!’ Pearl was opening the caravan for business. Her large friendly smile welcomed Abi. ‘Take that broom and sweep the inside of the van, would you. Last night I had some kids in here with sandy feet, playing with Blue.’ The little dog lying on the armchair looked at her mistress and thumped her tail on the floor. ‘Yes, Miss Blue. They loved you, didn’t they?’ Pearl said.

      ‘Right, Abi. The forecast is a good ’un today. Slightly overcast, a little breeze and getting warmer as the day goes on. Perfect ice-cream weather. Exactly the way we like it. The tea urn needs filling up and heating. Ollie brought down the water containers, but I need you to keep topping it up through the day. OK?’

      ‘Yes. Have you got a dust pan and brush?’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘This sand I’ve swept up.’

      ‘Bless you, no. Sweep it straight out of the door and back to where it belongs.’

      Abi swept everything out, filled up and turned on the tea urn, then sat down with Blue and tickled her ears.

      ‘What are you doing down there?’ asked Pearl, hands on her hips. ‘I don’t pay you to tickle the dog, not when there’s newspapers waiting to be collected.’

      Abi struggled to her feet. ‘Sorry. Where do I have to go for the papers?’

      ‘The village shop in Higher Barton. They’ll have my order ready. Oh, and get a couple of extra puzzle books: crosswords and sudokus. Those always sell well. There’s a rucksack on the floor, carry them in that. My bike’s parked outside.’

      ‘I’ve got a bike at the house.’

      ‘OK, use your own. But wear a helmet, please!’ Pearl gave Abi a mock-stern look, then added, ‘I’m serious. These holidaymakers drive like maniacs with their big cars and roof racks.’

      ‘Don’t worry, I will.’

      ‘Good. And no hanging about in the village. I’ll see you in half an hour.’

      Abi was back with a couple of minutes to spare and found Pearl already four-deep in customers.

      ‘Here she comes. Our newspaper girl. Abi, a Sun for Terry, please.’

      Abi pulled out a copy of the Sun and passed it to the man at the head of the queue. Pearl handed him a paper cup of tea at the same time. ‘There you are, Terry. D’you want a deckchair? Abi, get Terry a deckchair, please.’

      And so the day went on. Pearl knew everyone on the beach. If someone came along that she didn’t know, she’d be on first-name terms with them by the time they left. Abi was amazed at how much information people were ready to give. Their address, here on holiday and back home; who they were with; their state of health; names of children, grandchildren and dogs … everything.

      In a short lull, Abi asked Pearl how she did it. ‘I’m interested, that’s all. The more special and important they feel, the more they’ll come back and spend their holiday money.’ Pearl laughed. ‘I like them, they like me, and it’s good for business. Make me a cup of tea, will you – and have one yourself.’

      The afternoon got hotter and sunnier and the trade for ice creams got brisker. Abi started to master the art of scooping the ice cream and balancing it perfectly on its cone.

      Children flocked to the caravan to tickle Blue and take her for walks up and down the beach. ‘Take one of my plastic bags in case she does a poo,’ instructed Pearl. The kids loved hearing her say ‘poo’ and diligently collected the steamy little bags and brought them to Pearl for inspection.

      ‘Bless their little hearts!’ said Pearl. Each child was given a Flake as a reward for their help.

      By six o’clock, Abi’s legs and jaw muscles were aching from standing and smiling all day. Pearl was as fresh as a daisy, her lipstick freshly applied and her glowing face tanned but never shiny.

      ‘Right, young Abi. How do you think you’ve done today?’

      Abi was surprised by the question. ‘Uh, I don’t know. I hope I’ve done OK. I really enjoyed it.’

      ‘Which bit did you enjoy the best?’

      ‘Serving the ice cream and talking to the kids.’

      ‘Good. Do you reckon you could do that every day till the end of August? Because, my girl, the job is yours if you want it.’

      ‘Oh, yes please.’ Abi hugged Pearl.

      ‘Excellent. Tomorrow I want you here by eight forty-five, with the newspapers. By nine I want the tea urns on and the floor swept, ready for me at nine fifteen. I’m having a lie-in. I’ll push the keys through your letter box when I close up tonight. OK?’

      ‘Yeah. Great!’

      ‘Off you go then, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

      *

      Abi walked into the kitchen and flopped on a chair, yawning.

      ‘Hi, darling. How did it go?’ asked Greg, who was pecking at the keys on his laptop, having become quite proficient in the art of one-handed typing.

      ‘S’all СКАЧАТЬ