Kitabı oku: «Summer at the Lakeside Cabin», sayfa 3

CHAPTER SEVEN

My heart is hammering as we draw near our destination – for two reasons.

With signs for ‘Clemmy’s Lakeside Glamping’ popping up here and there, I’m wondering when the penny will drop and Toby will guess that’s where we’re going.

And I can’t stop peering at all the dwellings we’re passing, wondering if any of them are Maple Tree House. I’m trying not to look because we’re here for Toby’s birthday treat and I’m feeling a little guilty that I have an ulterior motive for choosing the glamping site for our holiday.

I haven’t told Toby about finding the handbag with the Appley Green address inside it. I haven’t told anyone yet, not even Rachel. I’m hugging it to myself for now, processing it all in my own head before I tell anyone else about it.

I had no idea how I’d feel when I actually got here.

I think I vaguely imagined that I’d go to Appley Green and have a look around, marvelling that it was here I began life. I even pictured locating Maple Tree House and knocking on the front door, although I’d ruled that out. Beyond that, I hadn’t really thought.

But now that I’m here, everything is suddenly scarily real. There’s a drive in me to find my birth mum that wasn’t there before. Did I really imagine that just visiting Appley Green would satisfy my curiosity and I’d be able to return to Manchester content simply to have seen the place where I was born?

But alongside the desire to discover where I came from is a deep, gnawing guilt. I can’t help feeling that in contemplating searching for my birth mum, I’m betraying the woman who, to all intents and purposes, was my mum. How would she have felt if she’d known I was thinking of following my curiosity to its natural end?

Driving through Appley Green itself is the weirdest feeling. My head feels as if it’s floating away from my body and there’s a buzzing in my ears as if I might be about to faint. I stare at the faces of the women walking along the high street, looking especially at the middle-aged women, going about their normal business on an ordinary Sunday morning in Appley Green.

Any one of these women could be my birth mother!

I want to tell Toby. But something is stopping me.

I think I’m worried that, if I tell anyone, it will all become overwhelmingly real and then there’ll be no going back. I’ll have to go with it and search for the truth.

But that’s where my biggest fear of all lies.

Because what if I search for the truth and it’s not the fairy tale I want? What if my birth mother had me adopted simply because she didn’t want me?

What if I turn up on her doorstep and she rejects me all over again?

‘Daisy?’ Toby sounds tense. ‘Earth to Daisy.’

I swing round. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘You need to direct me. I spotted a sign for a Michelin-starred manor house hotel back there if that’s any help?’ He looks at me hopefully and my heart sinks.

‘Try next left.’ I point at a looming sign announcing ‘Glamping’ in bold letters.

Toby looks at the sign and chuckles. ‘You and your little jokes.’ He shakes his head at me as if he’s the patient adult and I’m the naughty, wayward child. ‘So?’ He glances over expectantly, as if at any moment I’m going to shout, ‘Hah! Had you fooled! No, of course we’re not going glamping for a week. Not when there’s a posh manor house hotel with a couple of Michelin stars and an award-winning spa back there!’

This is awful.

What was I thinking, booking something that really is just one step up from a Boy-Scouts-round-the-campfire-back-to-nature sort of trip? I suppose I was carried away with how romantic the photos looked.

‘Toby, turn left, please. This is the surprise.’

He looks startled, and having been about to drive straight past the turn-off, brakes suddenly and turns off. Then he drives slowly along the narrow road, looking from left to right as if he can’t quite believe where he is.

We approach an impressive-looking chalet-type building on the left. It looks spacious and very handsome and there’s a sign saying ‘The Log Fire Cabin’.

Toby slows almost to a standstill, staring up at it admiringly. ‘Very nice.’ He nods in approval. ‘So come on, Daisy, this is where we’re really going, isn’t it? A beautiful chalet overlooking a lake. Have we got butler service?’

Irritation breaks through my feelings of guilt.

Butler bloody service? I haven’t exactly got money to burn! Although to be fair, Toby did offer to pay for it himself.

‘No butler service but I promise I’ll wait on you hand and foot on your birthday.’ I force a cheery tone. ‘We’re going glamping, Toby!’

I perform a cheery ta-dah with my hands in the direction of the glamping sign up ahead.

There’s silence from the birthday boy as he stares at the sign.

I take a breath and launch in. ‘It looks absolutely gorgeous on the website. Honestly, I think you’re going to love it. The tents – er, the dwellings – have got a proper loo and a kitchen and everything. Even a log-burning stove! And we can always head to the supermarket and splash out on a good bottle of champagne.’

Champagne actually gives me indigestion but anything to put a smile on Toby’s face.

Toby turns the car slowly into the parking area for Clemmy’s Lakeside Glamping, switches off the engine and nods at a small but perfectly formed house nearby. ‘Nice architecture.’

I nod in agreement. It’s in the same style as the Log Fire Cabin that we just passed but on a smaller scale. This one is called, not very imaginatively, ‘Lakeside View’.

Toby looks over the expanse of grass towards the lake, at the elegant structures with their exotic air of a Bedouin tent. He nods slowly, gazing around him, and my heart lifts a little.

Perhaps it’s going to be fine, after all.

Toby swings round. ‘What about Wi-Fi? I must have Wi-Fi.’

I nod and he visibly relaxes. ‘Thank God. I don’t mind where I stay as long as I can keep in touch with the office.’

He sees my crestfallen face and adds hurriedly, ‘Not that this isn’t … great!’

A tall girl in jeans and T-shirt with chestnut red hair and a curvy figure is walking towards us.

‘This is my old friend, Clemmy,’ I tell Toby, my heart lifting at her warm smile of welcome. ‘Let’s go and say hello.’

‘Oh, Daisy,’ she says. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your mum.’ She draws me into a big hug, squeezing me tight, and I cling on to her, my eyes suddenly wet with tears. ‘Auntie Joan is devastated. But she’s so looking forward to seeing you.’ She smiles across at Toby. ‘Both of you.’

After the introductions, Clemmy walks us over to our tent, which turns out to be even more beautiful than I imagined it would be.

Even Toby seems impressed.

‘This is amazing,’ he says, looking around him. ‘I can’t believe the level of style and comfort you’ve achieved here.’ He wanders over to the wood-burning stove and runs a finger over the top of it, absent-mindedly checking for dust. (He blames dust mites for his highly sensitive nasal passages.)

Clemmy beams. ‘I’m so glad you like it. I wanted to get the feel of a really first-rate hotel?’ She looks a little anxiously at Toby when she says this, as if she senses it’s him she needs to impress.

He tips his head on one side and frowns, as if to say, I’m not sure you’ve quite achieved that.

To make up for his lack of fulsome praise, I start going totally overboard, praising the floral-patterned quilt on the bed, which tones so beautifully with the drapes – because they are drapes, not just ordinary curtains. Generous swathes of lilac fabric sweep to the floor in the bedroom, which has walls of soft grey and lots of squishy cushions providing splashes of summery fuchsia pink and pale green. I can see similarly lush drapes in the living room area, although there the colour scheme is a more neutral mix of cream and mushroom, the roomy sofa providing a colour pop of deep turquoise.

The same area contains two chairs and the little table with its pretty jug of flowers, just like in the picture on the website.

Clemmy shows us how the log burner works and says there’s a plentiful supply of logs and a wheelbarrow in the shed by the Log Fire Cabin. Then she gives us the run-down on the little kitchen area and the toilet and shower cubicle.

No bath for Toby, obviously. But the shower looks perfectly functional!

Clemmy has left a big basket of goodies for us on the little counter top in the kitchen – and I breathe a sigh of relief to see chocolates and a bottle of champagne sticking out of the top of it.

‘I’ve got some basic foodstuffs at the house if you don’t want to go food shopping now,’ says Clemmy. ‘Nothing more exotic than baked beans, though, I’m afraid.’

‘I’ve brought some homemade moussaka,’ I tell her. ‘And I think I spotted a little microwave?’

She smiles. ‘You did indeed. That’ll be lovely. And it’s such a lovely night for eating al fresco.’

‘Al fresco?’ Toby swings round.

‘Outside?’ I explain helpfully.

He frowns. ‘I know what al fresco means. I’m just not sure it’s a good idea. Bugs are absolutely rife near water. I’m not sure I fancy ingesting midges with my moussaka.’ He shoots me a worried glance. ‘You did pack the insect repellent, didn’t you?’

I assure him I did, and Clemmy says, ‘They can be a bit pesky, the midges, but usually only when it’s been raining. And we’ve had the most glorious dry spell lately.’

‘We can always eat in,’ I say cheerfully, to allay Toby’s worries of being eaten alive.

‘Or we can go out for dinner.’ Toby’s eyes light up. ‘There looks to be a rather fine eating establishment just along there, by the lake.’

‘Yes, the Starlight Hotel,’ says Clemmy. ‘It’s fabulous in every way. Very elegant. But – um – rather expensive?’

We glance over and Toby nods approvingly. ‘Excellent.’

Clemmy smiles. ‘I can phone and make a booking for you if you like?’

‘No, it’s fine. I’ll sort it,’ says Toby.

‘Okay, I’ll leave you to settle in then. Give me a knock in the morning if you’d like breakfast,’ says Clemmy. ‘I live in the converted barn over there.’ She points to the chalet-style building we spotted earlier. She laughs. ‘Well, it was more of a big shed, really, but Jed, who owns the Log Fire Cabin, is an architect and he did an amazing conversion job on it for us. Jed is my fiancé’s brother.’

I smile. ‘How lovely. When’s the wedding?’

‘October. There’s still so much to organise, but we’ll get there.’ A dark shadow passes over her face. But next second she’s back into professional mode. ‘Jed’s fiancée, Poppy, has her own catering company, and she bakes fresh bread and pastries every morning, which I can highly recommend.’ Clemmy pats her rounded tummy ruefully. ‘Way too moreish. Come over any time after eight if you’d like to sample them.’

As soon as she’s gone, Toby picks up the jug of flowers from the table, dumps it on the bedside table and puts his laptop on the table instead. ‘Just need to check in. Won’t be a mo.’

My heart sinks but I smile and say, ‘Okay. I’ll go and freshen up while you’re busy. I really hope you like it here. It’s such a gorgeous lakeside setting, isn’t it?’

But he’s already peering anxiously at the screen and doesn’t appear to have heard me. So I go off to investigate the tiny bathroom, hoping Toby won’t be too long. I hope he manages to get us a table for dinner at the Starlight Hotel. It sounds utterly gorgeous. Possibly even more romantic than eating al fresco! And definitely no bugs.

My stomach is already rumbling like mad at the thought of Poppy’s freshly baked breakfast pastries …

*

‘Let’s just walk along to the hotel, Toby. It’s a lovely evening.’

I finally managed to prise Toby away from his laptop in order to get ready. While he was in the bathroom, I took the magazine with my prize-winning story in it out of my case and, with a little lurch of excitement, slid it onto Toby’s bedside table. Hopefully he’ll finally have time to read it this week!

Toby frowns. ‘I thought you were hungry,’

‘I am. But Clemmy said the hotel was only a ten-minute walk away, and I thought it might be nice to take a stroll along there by the lake. You know, get to know our surroundings a bit?’

‘Okay. Let’s go.’ He pockets his work phone and I know there’s no point objecting. The office comes before everything else for Toby – even relationships. That’s just the way he is, and I’ve always had a theory that there’s no point trying to change the person you’re going out with. Sure, some of your own good habits will likely rub off on each other. But essentially, they’re not likely to undergo a great transformation, so you either accept them, warts and all, or you move on.

There’s no doubt that Toby and I are very different in some ways. But every time I imagine us going our separate ways, I think of just how much I would lose. Toby and his family have basically taken me in and provided the love and comfort I missed so badly when Mum died. I couldn’t leave Toby. And what about my friendship with Rosalind? How could we still meet up for coffee and a chat if I was no longer going out with her son?

I swallow hard. Toby and I get along fine together. Every relationship needs to be worked on. And this week, we’ll have the chance to do just that …

I tuck my hand in his arm and we start walking down the road to the hotel.

‘So, what do you think of glamping?’ I ask. ‘I know it’s not what you were expecting, but I think our tent is incredible.’

He smiles at me. ‘It’s certainly different. And I’m looking forward to finding out how springy that mattress is.’

‘Ooh, yes, me too.’ I give him a wicked grin and snuggle closer, laying my head briefly against his shoulder.

He nods. ‘Of course, I prefer a pocket-sprung, memory-foam hybrid mattress. As you know. But hell, I’m willing to try something different!’ He gives me a jolly wink.

This is promising, I think to myself. Toby actually seems quite relaxed now and he hasn’t checked his phone once since we left our tent. Admittedly, we’re only five minutes down the road, but even so …

Approaching the hotel entrance, I spot a ‘workmen’ sign just to the left, with a cordon in a ring around whatever they’ve been working on. Toby takes my hand and guides me firmly around the obstruction.

Then he suddenly stops and takes hold of my other hand as well. ‘Thank you, Daisy, for my birthday treat. I know I’ve been preoccupied with work today, but I promise I’ll make it up to you while we’re here.’

I smile shyly up at him. ‘You will?’

He nods and I stand on tiptoe to kiss him. His mouth tastes of fresh minty toothpaste and it’s lovely.

I slide my hands up around Toby’s neck as the kiss deepens and my head spins deliciously. This is what a romantic break should be like.

This, right here … kissing under the stars … just us and no one else to ruin the moment …

‘You’re blocking the way.’

I jump at the sound of a deep voice behind me.

Toby, too, is startled and springs back, colliding with the workmen’s barrier.

A tall, well-built man, wearing a backpack and hiking gear, strides past us and mounts the hotel steps, his long legs making easy work of them.

‘Hey, hang on, mate,’ protests Toby, and the man turns at the top of the steps.

‘Yes?’ he snarls, glowering at me for some reason and not Toby.

I swallow, staring up at his dark shock of hair and rough, unshaven face.

‘An “excuse me” would have been nice,’ I point out testily.

But he just gives a snort of contempt and disappears into the hotel.

‘Ah, shit. Fucking shit,’ says Toby. And when I turn, he’s extracting one foot from some syrupy, just-laid cement.

‘Oh, God, your shoe!’ I wail, staring at the gunge that’s welded to it and feeling Toby’s pain. Toby prides himself on his quality shoes. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got some wipes in my handbag.’

Luckily, Toby always keeps a stash of baby wipes in the car in case of messy emergencies.

We manage to get him cleaned up fairly satisfactorily, but it’s put a definite dampener on the evening. This particular pair of shoes was handmade in Italy; Toby’s pride and joy. It would be like if someone threw my best handbag into the back of a bin lorry. It would never be the same after that. I totally get where poor Toby is coming from.

So basically, that rude stranger who pushed past us on the stairs has managed to ruin Toby’s night. Which obviously means I’m not exactly leaping about with joy, either. Still, it can only get better from here …