The Happy Glampers. Daisy Tate

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      ‘I can’t believe I’m not last!’ Izzy was always last. ‘Does that mean I get a prize?’

      Freya rolled her eyes in an ‘oh lordy, look who hasn’t changed at all’ way. It was a wonder it had taken this long. Freya had been the least tolerant of her messiness. Her lateness. Her general inability to pin herself down. The fact she’d got a starred first for her degree despite not having appeared to have studied all that much. That had particularly annoyed Freya.

      Charlotte, on the other hand, had always treated Izzy as if she were a wonder. Her poet mother. A childhood of flitting from one academic hotspot to the next. Dining with royalty one day and living on beans the next. Your life sounds so romantic. Until this very moment, Izzy hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed her.

      A sudden urge swept through her to throw herself at Charlotte’s feet and beg her to make all of the incredibly difficult decisions she still had yet to make. Charlotte would choose well. Charlotte would choose impeccably. Emily was helping the best she could, but she wasn’t exactly well equipped in the sensitivity department. Charlotte was. She would know which tack to take. Which path to follow. Like marrying Oli, for instance. That had panned out well. City lawyer. Country life. Beautiful children. Hiring super-fancy glampsites for her fortieth. From what Emily had relayed, everyone still thought Oli was a bit of a wanker, but on the whole? Charlotte’s life was just as she’d planned. Perfect.

      Behind her, she heard the van door slide open. The enormous canine fur-ball that was Bonzer ran between Izzy’s legs, his voluminous puppy fluff tickling her calves as he settled himself in front of her. One ear up. One ear down. Fur the colour of an apricot. And the biggest, brownest eyes in the universe. He’d break the ice. Everyone loved a giant puppy.

      ‘Izzy?’ Charlotte’s hands fisted, except for her index fingers which were pointing at Bonzer. ‘Ummmm … is this a dog?’

      Except maybe Charlotte?

      ‘We left our dog with a pet sitter,’ Freya said pointedly.

      Well, bully for you.

      Explaining was always an option. She could pour her heart out. Detail the Amazonian effort it had taken to leave Hawaii, come back to the UK, find a school for Luna, a van, a puppy. But she’d get flustered and leave bits out, fuelling yet more ‘typical Dizzy’ eye-rolls. So she smiled and said nothing.

      Charlotte, on the other hand, fell over herself apologizing.

      ‘I’m so sorry, Izz. I thought I said on the WhatsApp that there were no dogs. Remember? They have some health and safety issues here and Oli’s a tiny bit allergic.’ Charlotte pinched her fingers close together, as if doing so would make the dog evaporate and all of the awkwardness that came from not having seen one another in over a decade would *poof!* disappear.

      Izzy flashed Charlotte her apology grin. The one she used to use when Charlotte reminded her she forgot to get tea bags. Or to Freya when she’d neglected to take out the rubbish. Or Emms (plus a fluttering of eyelashes) when she hadn’t strictly finished one of her term papers and maybe, kind of sort of, needed just a leeeetle bit of help. They always moaned at her. They also always forgave her.

      Was that why she’d come back? So she could be with people she knew would take her in no matter what? Screwing it all up over a puppy simply wasn’t worth it.

      So she smiled, boofed her forehead with the heel of her hand and made a goofy face. ‘Girl, you know what I’m like with fine print! I never exactly got on the WhatsApp thing because of changing phones and countries. Tell me what I gotta do to make it up to you? Sing? Dance? Bake cakes? You probably already did that, didn’t you? I’ll be your birthday slave all weekend.’ She put her hands into prayer position and made sad clown eyes until, finally, they laughed.

      ‘I’m so sorry, but he can’t stay,’ Charlotte’s eyebrows templed in a way that suggested she understood the pickle Izzy was in, but matters were out of her control. ‘The manager was very insistent. I had to sign a disclaimer.’

      ‘Really? It’s just … I’m not asking for me, it’s more …’

      Everyone turned as the world’s most beautiful child ran up alongside her.

      ‘Mom?’

      Her daughter, Luna, slipped her hand into Izzy’s and looked up at her, those bright blue eyes of hers still a bit of a surprise each time she saw them. A bit like a Siamese cat’s. Sapphire brightness against silky smooth skin. Just a shade or so lighter than her own. Luna was her very own flesh and blood and yet, every time she looked at her afresh … goose-bumps.

      Izzy turned to face her friends. How to introduce the daughter she’d never told any of them about except for Emms who was really letting the team down by not being here.

      Freya’s jaw had dropped open. Not a cute face. A bit like Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

      Subtle.

      Charlotte, on the other hand, smiled warmly.

      Thank you.

      ‘Well, who do we have here?’ Charlotte squatted down, introduced herself to Luna, and shook her hand.

      Izzy knew she could rely on Charlotte. ‘This is Luna.’

      ‘Luna! That’s a beautiful name.’ She looked back up at Izzy, ‘Sooo … I guess there’s been a bit more than surf camp in your life since we’ve seen you last.’

      ‘Yup. Just a little.’ Understatement of the year.

      Where on earth was Emily? She’d always been better at telling Izzy off for things than Charlotte had. Charlotte had never been any good at telling anyone off for anything. Which was very likely why her children had no respect for her and her husband was having an affair, but that was another matter.

      Izzy held the puppy up. ‘Are you absolutely positive the puppy can’t stay?’ She waved his paw at them.

      ‘Izz. Sorry, it’s just that … Oh, this is terribly awkward …’

      The last thing she wanted to do was upset Izzy’s newly discovered daughter. Charlotte could feel a little bit of her self-possession slipping away. Her friends were bound to see through it, of course. A true friend wouldn’t need X-ray vision to tell she was barely holding it together. It had been years since they’d all lived together, but she knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Freya had definitely noticed something was up. Since she’d arrived, she kept pointedly making reference to their husbands. Did you know our husbands are at the pub? What will our husbands make of this yurt, these olives, those cows? Maybe not the cow part, but she wished Freya would stop pressing the point that the two of them were married. To husbands. How on earth was she going to get through the weekend?

      Time to have a grown-up talk with Izzy away from little girl ears.

      She smiled at Izzy’s daughter. What was she? Nine or ten? Such pretty blue eyes. So, like Izzy, but she must look like her father, too. Whoever he was. Charlotte knew there was no point in asking Izzy about the father outright. She’d never liked being pushed on personal details. They’d just have to wait until Izzy was good and ready.

       Such pretty eyes.

      Charlotte СКАЧАТЬ