And Dad went to fetch Hannah early this morning.”
“I noticed an estate car parked round the back of your house when we left.”
“It’s Mrs Henley’s. She’ll be far too busy fixing lunch to come and get us.”
“Well, I’ll call the house just the same, and see if someone else can fetch us—”
But calling proved unnecessary when Mrs Henley’s teenage daughter, Lucy, came into the newsagent’s and offered to take them back. “I’m headed that way anyhow,” she told Holly. “I work half-days on Saturday, helping with the lunch service and the clearing up. Mum likes her chocolate,” she added as she grabbed up a Bounty and a Dairy Milk from the confectionery display.
“Thanks,” Holly said gratefully. “Do you have room for three dogs, as well?”
“No problem.” She indicated an ancient VW Kombi parked just outside. “Go ahead and hop in. I just have to pick up a couple of things. Be out in two ticks.”
The Kombi — painted a virulent shade of lime green and plastered with stickers of flowers — earned a distrustful look from Holly but besotted enthusiasm from Alex.
“This is fantastic!” Alex exclaimed as he opened the double doors. “It’s got a Canterbury Pitt conversion.”
Holly looked at him blankly. “A what?”
“A custom conversion,” Lucy explained as she joined them. “A table goes in the middle, but it’s stowed; and I’ve a cooker, and a poptop with two bunks above, for sleeping.” She waited as Holly, Alex, and the dogs clambered inside, then slid behind the wheel. “’Course, it’s old, so it breaks down a lot.”
“Great,” Holly muttered.
“Not to worry,” Lucy assured her as she started the engine. “Daisy won’t get you back home very fast, but she
will
get you there.”
The stench of diesel filled the air as Lucy put the van in gear, and, true to her word, with a judder and a toot of the horn, they were off.
Chapter 15
“Let’s take you up to your room,” Lucy told Holly when they arrived, “so you can have a nice lie-in and keep the weight off that foot.”
“I don’t need a nice lie-in! I’m fine.” Before Holly could protest any further, Alex scooped her up in his arms and headed up the stairs, Lucy trailing behind.
“Lucy’s right,” Alex informed her. “You need to stay off that foot.”
She glared at him. “And you need to stop acting like Rhett Butler.”
“I’m sure Scarlett O’Hara never ate half a carton of eggs, three pieces of toast, and a rasher of bacon for breakfast,” he retorted.
“Holly!” her mother exclaimed as she emerged from the baize door that led to the kitchen. “What’s happened?”
Alex came to a stop halfway up the stairs. “She had a fall. She’s twisted her ankle. It’s nothing serious.”
“Tell that to my ankle,” Holly said through gritted teeth. “Argghh! It hurts.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” Cherie tutted. “Your dad’s just texted to say he and Hannah should be here in time for lunch. One of her friends brought her to Hertfordshire, so it’s trimmed an hour and a half from his journey… Mrs Henley’s roasted a chicken and a lovely leg of lamb. Will you join us, or shall I have her send up a tray?”
“A tray, please. Thanks, Mum.”
Alex followed Holly’s directions to her bedroom and lowered her on the bed. He reached behind her to plump up the pillows. “There. Comfy?”
Holly nodded. “Perfect.” Her foot throbbed; the paracetamol obviously hadn’t taken effect yet.
“I’ll go downstairs and fetch some Epsom salts,” Lucy told her from the doorway. “That foot needs a proper soak. Here,” she added as she handed some magazines to Alex. “Give these to Holly. They’ll help pass the time. I got ’em at the newsagent’s just now.”
“Thanks.” Alex took a seat in the faded chintz armchair by Holly’s bed and began idly flipping through the pile. “Your competition,” he said, lifting up copies of
Shout
and
Bliss
to show
“I noticed an estate car parked round the back of your house when we left.”
“It’s Mrs Henley’s. She’ll be far too busy fixing lunch to come and get us.”
“Well, I’ll call the house just the same, and see if someone else can fetch us—”
But calling proved unnecessary when Mrs Henley’s teenage daughter, Lucy, came into the newsagent’s and offered to take them back. “I’m headed that way anyhow,” she told Holly. “I work half-days on Saturday, helping with the lunch service and the clearing up. Mum likes her chocolate,” she added as she grabbed up a Bounty and a Dairy Milk from the confectionery display.
“Thanks,” Holly said gratefully. “Do you have room for three dogs, as well?”
“No problem.” She indicated an ancient VW Kombi parked just outside. “Go ahead and hop in. I just have to pick up a couple of things. Be out in two ticks.”
The Kombi — painted a virulent shade of lime green and plastered with stickers of flowers — earned a distrustful look from Holly but besotted enthusiasm from Alex.
“This is fantastic!” Alex exclaimed as he opened the double doors. “It’s got a Canterbury Pitt conversion.”
Holly looked at him blankly. “A what?”
“A custom conversion,” Lucy explained as she joined them. “A table goes in the middle, but it’s stowed; and I’ve a cooker, and a poptop with two bunks above, for sleeping.” She waited as Holly, Alex, and the dogs clambered inside, then slid behind the wheel. “’Course, it’s old, so it breaks down a lot.”
“Great,” Holly muttered.
“Not to worry,” Lucy assured her as she started the engine. “Daisy won’t get you back home very fast, but she
will
get you there.”
The stench of diesel filled the air as Lucy put the van in gear, and, true to her word, with a judder and a toot of the horn, they were off.
Chapter 15
“Let’s take you up to your room,” Lucy told Holly when they arrived, “so you can have a nice lie-in and keep the weight off that foot.”
“I don’t need a nice lie-in! I’m fine.” Before Holly could protest any further, Alex scooped her up in his arms and headed up the stairs, Lucy trailing behind.
“Lucy’s right,” Alex informed her. “You need to stay off that foot.”
She glared at him. “And you need to stop acting like Rhett Butler.”
“I’m sure Scarlett O’Hara never ate half a carton of eggs, three pieces of toast, and a rasher of bacon for breakfast,” he retorted.
“Holly!” her mother exclaimed as she emerged from the baize door that led to the kitchen. “What’s happened?”
Alex came to a stop halfway up the stairs. “She had a fall. She’s twisted her ankle. It’s nothing serious.”
“Tell that to my ankle,” Holly said through gritted teeth. “Argghh! It hurts.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, darling.” Cherie tutted. “Your dad’s just texted to say he and Hannah should be here in time for lunch. One of her friends brought her to Hertfordshire, so it’s trimmed an hour and a half from his journey… Mrs Henley’s roasted a chicken and a lovely leg of lamb. Will you join us, or shall I have her send up a tray?”
“A tray, please. Thanks, Mum.”
Alex followed Holly’s directions to her bedroom and lowered her on the bed. He reached behind her to plump up the pillows. “There. Comfy?”
Holly nodded. “Perfect.” Her foot throbbed; the paracetamol obviously hadn’t taken effect yet.
“I’ll go downstairs and fetch some Epsom salts,” Lucy told her from the doorway. “That foot needs a proper soak. Here,” she added as she handed some magazines to Alex. “Give these to Holly. They’ll help pass the time. I got ’em at the newsagent’s just now.”
“Thanks.” Alex took a seat in the faded chintz armchair by Holly’s bed and began idly flipping through the pile. “Your competition,” he said, lifting up copies of
Shout
and
Bliss
to show
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