by the beach listening to the waves lap the shore … back to nature and all that. It could be an adventure.
‘Sorry, George,’ Tom smiles. ‘We’d love to visit and camp with you in Daisy, but we already have plans for Georgie’s birthday,’ he starts, and I want to hug him, he’s so kind. I know he’d hate sleeping in a tent; he told me he tried camping as a boy and swore he’d never ever do it again – he loves his home comforts far too much. Me too.
‘Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of other times. You never know, we might really get the bug for it and venture further afield next time … The Australian bush!’ Silence fills the little sitting room. I hold my breath. ‘Only joking!’ Dad laughs, but I’m sure I spot a faraway look in his eye.
Before I can grill him further, my phone buzzes with a text message. It’s from Dan, replying to the text I sent him after the first regatta meeting.
Yes, count me in! If you fancy coming to my event on Saturday, we can chat at the aftershow party. I’ll get details and invites sent over to you.
Ah, that’s nice. I knew he’d be up for it. I quickly tap out a reply, and then realise the time.
‘Dad, Nancy, sorry, but we’re going to have to get going. I have a client this afternoon,’ I say, hauling myself out of the armchair – I really shouldn’t have had that fifth bourbon biscuit.
‘Well, thanks for popping over, dear, it’s always a treat to catch up.’ Nancy gets up to see us out. I give her and Dad a hug; Tom does too.
‘I’ll call you, Georgie, before we head off,’ Dad says, pulling open the front door and squeezing my hand as I step outside. ‘And do stop worrying. We’ll be fine!’ he waves after us.
Oh God, I really hope so … I couldn’t bear it if something happened to either of them.
9
T he regatta plans are coming together really nicely now, and I needn’t have panicked at all, as Betty, Annie, and someone from practically every department instore has volunteered to get involved and help out. #TeamCarringtons has had six weekly lunchtime meetings now in the staff canteen, and we’ve even managed to source a carousel – it turned out that Annie’s Uncle Mikey used to work on the funfairs, so he put me in touch with a man just along the coast in Brighton who was more than happy to agree to turn up and spin the horses in exchange for a pound a ride. So, thankfully, I’ve managed to cross ‘carousel’ off my seemingly never-ending ‘to do’ list.
‘OK, so everyone is agreed then?’ It’s Annie. We’re in the staff canteen and just about to wrap up our seventh meeting. ‘That I’m the deputy #TeamCarringtons boss?’
‘Fine by me, dear,’ Betty says, finishing the last of her tea. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate at home with lazy Luke.’ She smiles wryly before sitting back and folding her arms.
‘And fine by me too,’ Denise from Home Electrical says to Annie. ‘But only if I can be in charge of the brochures – making sure all the ice-cream vans have a big bundle to sell. I want to liaise with that Matt from the council. He is hot,’ she laughs. Matt popped instore last week to see how I was getting on, so I invited him to join in our lunchtime meeting, and now Denise is clearly smitten. ‘Georgie, do you know if he’s single?’
‘Sorry, no idea,’ Denise’s forehead creases with disappointment, ‘but I’ll see what I can find out,’ I quickly add, and she grins like a loon.
‘Thanks, Georgie.’
‘OK, so to recap, we’re pretty much there then – we have a carousel, thanks Annie,’ she nods as I click to update my project plan with Uncle Mikey’s friend’s mobile number. ‘And you’re going to be the go-between with the council to make sure he has permission to set up the day before – and that all the legal stuff, health and safety, etc., is sorted out. Would you like some help with any of that?’
‘Nope. Thanks anyway, but I have it all under control,’ she says,
‘Sorry, George,’ Tom smiles. ‘We’d love to visit and camp with you in Daisy, but we already have plans for Georgie’s birthday,’ he starts, and I want to hug him, he’s so kind. I know he’d hate sleeping in a tent; he told me he tried camping as a boy and swore he’d never ever do it again – he loves his home comforts far too much. Me too.
‘Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of other times. You never know, we might really get the bug for it and venture further afield next time … The Australian bush!’ Silence fills the little sitting room. I hold my breath. ‘Only joking!’ Dad laughs, but I’m sure I spot a faraway look in his eye.
Before I can grill him further, my phone buzzes with a text message. It’s from Dan, replying to the text I sent him after the first regatta meeting.
Yes, count me in! If you fancy coming to my event on Saturday, we can chat at the aftershow party. I’ll get details and invites sent over to you.
Ah, that’s nice. I knew he’d be up for it. I quickly tap out a reply, and then realise the time.
‘Dad, Nancy, sorry, but we’re going to have to get going. I have a client this afternoon,’ I say, hauling myself out of the armchair – I really shouldn’t have had that fifth bourbon biscuit.
‘Well, thanks for popping over, dear, it’s always a treat to catch up.’ Nancy gets up to see us out. I give her and Dad a hug; Tom does too.
‘I’ll call you, Georgie, before we head off,’ Dad says, pulling open the front door and squeezing my hand as I step outside. ‘And do stop worrying. We’ll be fine!’ he waves after us.
Oh God, I really hope so … I couldn’t bear it if something happened to either of them.
9
T he regatta plans are coming together really nicely now, and I needn’t have panicked at all, as Betty, Annie, and someone from practically every department instore has volunteered to get involved and help out. #TeamCarringtons has had six weekly lunchtime meetings now in the staff canteen, and we’ve even managed to source a carousel – it turned out that Annie’s Uncle Mikey used to work on the funfairs, so he put me in touch with a man just along the coast in Brighton who was more than happy to agree to turn up and spin the horses in exchange for a pound a ride. So, thankfully, I’ve managed to cross ‘carousel’ off my seemingly never-ending ‘to do’ list.
‘OK, so everyone is agreed then?’ It’s Annie. We’re in the staff canteen and just about to wrap up our seventh meeting. ‘That I’m the deputy #TeamCarringtons boss?’
‘Fine by me, dear,’ Betty says, finishing the last of her tea. ‘I’ve got enough on my plate at home with lazy Luke.’ She smiles wryly before sitting back and folding her arms.
‘And fine by me too,’ Denise from Home Electrical says to Annie. ‘But only if I can be in charge of the brochures – making sure all the ice-cream vans have a big bundle to sell. I want to liaise with that Matt from the council. He is hot,’ she laughs. Matt popped instore last week to see how I was getting on, so I invited him to join in our lunchtime meeting, and now Denise is clearly smitten. ‘Georgie, do you know if he’s single?’
‘Sorry, no idea,’ Denise’s forehead creases with disappointment, ‘but I’ll see what I can find out,’ I quickly add, and she grins like a loon.
‘Thanks, Georgie.’
‘OK, so to recap, we’re pretty much there then – we have a carousel, thanks Annie,’ she nods as I click to update my project plan with Uncle Mikey’s friend’s mobile number. ‘And you’re going to be the go-between with the council to make sure he has permission to set up the day before – and that all the legal stuff, health and safety, etc., is sorted out. Would you like some help with any of that?’
‘Nope. Thanks anyway, but I have it all under control,’ she says,
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