You Make Me Feel Like Glamping Read online

  They protested and Izzy pretended she hadn’t been lying.

  The women were standing in front of a rather impressive selection of wheelbarrows. Every colour of the rainbow, the barrows were bedecked with hand-painted flowers and names. Mabel. Ruth. Esmerelda.

  ‘Look what we’ve found!’ They parted as one and revealed an Isabelle.

  ‘Awwww, girlfriends! You shouldn’t have.’ Izzy pressed her mountain of coils back from her face and went to stuff her hands in her back pockets, only to remember she had dressed up for her friends in one of her two maxi dresses rather than wearing her go-to cargos.

  ‘Your hair looks nice,’ said Freya.

  Izzy lifted her hand self-consciously to the coif. Kind, but no one was fooling anyone. She looked like a train wreck. The years of surfing had kept her fit, but the last couple of years? Ugh … She couldn’t even go there. ‘Where’s Emms?’

  ‘Not here yet.’ Charlotte’s mouth looked as though it wanted to keep on going and say something else. Oooo-kay …

  Eventually Izzy had to fill the silence.

  ‘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 just 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?

  All of which was neither here nor there because right now she had to deal with the puppy. A whorl of wool tangled up amidst the blossom of a hawthorn bush caught her attention. The sharp spikes pierced straight through the fluffy wool. A gruesome image of Izzy’s adorable puppy being gored by one of the stags popped into her head. That. And the mess it would make. She’d have to clean that up, too, she supposed. The puppy entrails and the blood-spattered stag.


  There was no way around it. The puppy would have to go.

  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. The last time they’d tried to get some actual facts from her, she’d gone on at them for trying to imprison her chakras. Experience dictated it might not be chakras any more, but if they wanted details? They’d just have to wait until Izzy was good and ready.

  Such pretty eyes.

  Charlotte had always loved blue eyes, especially Oli’s. Light blue like a perfect summer sky, she’d once thought. Lately, today especially, they seemed cooler. Chilly. Like ice.

  Right. Onto this talk. ‘Luna, if you like, the children are around somewhere …’

  Freya helpfully jumped in. ‘My children have got a hedgehog they’re looking after until management bring down a little house for it. Perhaps you’d like to join them, Luna?’

  Luna looked up at her mother with a pleading expression. How Izzy ever said no to that face was beyond her. Perhaps she didn’t. ‘Can I stay here with Bonzer? We’ll sit in the car.’ Luna stroked the puppy, which licked her hand.

  Izzy raised her eyebrows at Charlotte’s micro ‘please can you just do this’ look, then smiled softly at her daughter. ‘No, Booboo. It’s a beautiful day, no one is sitting in the car.’ She gave her daughter a hip bump, pulled her incredible mane of dark, coiled hair away from her face and kissed Luna’s forehead. ‘Why don’t you go check out the hedgehog? They don’t have those in Hawaii.’

  ‘Felix and Regan would love to meet you,’ Freya added. ‘My two. They’re twins!’

  Charlotte could see that Luna was clever enough to know she was being moved on so the grown-ups could talk about ‘the situation’ without her.

  ‘C’mon. I’ll show you.’ Freya put out her hand as Luna, clearly intrigued by the prospect of a brand-new mammalian discovery, gave in and took it. ‘Charlotte?’

  Her cue to sort out the problem. This one she could handle. Unlike the wayward husband problem. That one would have to wait.

  Before Izzy could blink, she found herself handing Bonzer’s lead over to Sittingstone’s estate manager.

  ‘Bye bye, bud. See you soon.’ Izzy nuzzled the puppy.

  ‘Any news on the hedgehog house?’ Freya had just jogged up to their little group and given them all a full report on the hedgehog, a need for tweezers (ticks) and an assurance that Luna was as transfixed by the little creature as the rest of the children were. And by ‘rest of the children’, she meant hers. Charlotte’s children, just that little bit older than the others, had been seen sloping off to their bell tent arguing about charging points.

  ‘We should have one kitted out for you in the next hour or two,’ the manager said. ‘The dowager countess has a thing for hedgehogs, so we’ve got loads round the estate. Normally we’ve got a few in store, but this one’s caught us a bit early.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Freya nodded deeply, then mouthed ‘global warming’.

  Izzy stifled a laugh. Same ol’ Freya. Bless. She’d have to triple-check the recycling rules before she threw anything away. That. Or torture her like she and Emily used to back in the day. The fuss over an uncomposted banana skin. Good times. Simpler times.

  The manager gave Bonzer a ‘let’s see now’ look. One that suggested he had the hedgehog situation under control, but puppies? Not so much.

  ‘Are you sure it’s okay?’ Izzy held out her hand for the lead.

  ‘Positive,’ said the manager, who had insisted several times everyone call him Whiffy instead of Peter. Something to do with how he’d always ‘smelt of the countryside’ as a kid, and nowt had changed other than that he lived down South where the weather were a bit fairer.

  ‘It’s for his own safety.’ He crouched down and gave the puppy’s head a scrub. Izzy was vaguely mollified when Bonzer gave him a big sloppy lick on the face and Whiffy laughed.

  ‘Breed?’

  ‘Erm … designer dog?’ Or mutt. All in the spin, she supposed.

  ‘The rescue charity said he’s a mishmash of Lab, collie and some sort of enormous mystery beast. I’m guessing that’s why his paws are so huge. Pyrenean mountain dog?’

  They all studiously examined Bonzer. His white eyebrows quirking left, then right, then left again. ‘The woman said he was the product of a “secret liaison”.’

  Freya’s eyes shot to her as if she’d been giving them some code about Luna. Izzy herself was the product of a secret liaison, so … no judgement in this camp.

  Charlotte cleared her throat and gave Izzy one of her sympathetic but focused looks. As much as Izzy didn’t want to say goodbye to the puppy, she could see Charlotte was keen for them to move on.

  Bonzer gave an adorable little puppy yawn.

  ‘When did you move back again?’ Freya asked. ‘Long enough to get a puppy, obviously.’

  ‘Monday.’ Izzy held up her hands. ‘I know. We’re doing this all a bit ass-backwards, but …’ She shrugged. ‘I thought Bonzer might help us both settle in once we get to the cottage.’

  ‘Cottage?’ Freya’s eyebrow shot up.

  She’d forgotten Freya’s insatiable appetite for details.

  Cool your jets. It’s been ten years. Plenty of water under the bridge. More water to come.

  ‘The one I inherited. It’s in Wales. Welsh Wales.’ She swiped the air between them. ‘I’ll fill you in on everything later. Right now I just wanna make sure this little guy is going to be all right.’

  Bonzer nestled his head into Whiffy’s hand then looked up at him, a picture of doe-eyed innocence. Everyone went, ‘awwww’, then threw guilty looks at each other seeing as they were meant to be saying goodbye.

  Whiffy grinned at Izzy. ‘Don’t you worry. His accommodation will be posher than what you lot are in.’

  Charlotte bristled.

  Whiffy held up his hands. ‘Not like that.’ He laughed. ‘A kennel’s a kennel. It’s just that it’s up at the main house.’

  ‘You mean the earl and countess are in residence?’ Charlotte shook her hair a bit to make it look as if she didn’t really care, but Charlotte, Izzy now remembered, had never been particularly good at pretending.

  Whiffy looked down at Bonzer. ‘They’d love a little guy like this. Mad about puppies, they are.’

  Izzy threw Charlotte a panicked look.

  Whiffy saw the exchange. ‘Don’t worry. Lord James and Her Ladyship are away this weekend. Greece, I think. They won’t be anywhere near the kennels. The dowager countess is in.’ He dropped them a cheeky wink. ‘She does love an evening stroll to the kennels. Not sure I’ll be able to keep her mitts off this one.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case, then maybe it’s better if we keep Bonzer. I’ve got the van and—’

  ‘Nope. No. Sorry, madam.’ Whiffy really did look sorry, but he took a step back from her all the same. ‘You really don’t want to see a longhorn cow protecting her calf against this little guy.’ Whiffy gave Bonzer’s head another scrub, then lifted him into the back of his utility truck. The women waved goodbye. Bonzer’s expression read as all of theirs had when their parents had left them to ‘get on with the magic of learning’ that first day of uni. Half bewildered, half ‘you can go now’.

  Devoid of her puppy and child, Izzy gave the site a proper scan. It was lush. Stunning, really. That seemingly effortless combination of whimsy and class. The Brits were brilliant at baronial elegance.

  Her eyes settled on a nearby yurt. The first time she’d ever gone camping was with these girlies. Emily had had a hissy fit after her first insect bite and had slept in Izzy’s van. Not that there had been much room in it. Charlotte had decanted near enough their whole house into the thing. Freya had been the truly useful one. Fire-starter. Tent putter-upper. Arbite
r of just how long the five-second rule really lasted when a sausage dropped off a stick into the sand. (About thirty seconds if anyone was asking.)

  ‘Are you all right, Izzy?’ Charlotte reached out to take the backpack Izzy was holding looped on her arm.

  ‘Absolutely. More than.’ Izzy smiled. She wasn’t here to mope. She was here to party! ‘This place is amazing.’

  Charlotte beamed. ‘I’m so glad you like it.’ She tucked her arm in Izzy’s and pointed towards a bell tent. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about what’s brought you back home.’

  All in good time, Izzy thought. This was great. Being home again. She loved the UK. She loved her friends. She loved life. All in good time, but not tonight. First, she wanted absorb all of this. The fire pit, the kitchen tent, the smattering of benches and picnic rugs that were all so fabulously British. Everything was just so, except … ‘You know what would make this place absolutely perfect?’

  Charlotte and Freya leaned in.

  ‘Bunting!’

  ‘Wait! Stop the car.’

  ‘I thought we were late.’

  Emily pressed her hands to the dash. ‘Oh, gawd. Just look at it all.’ Emily thought she might throw up a little. It was all so twee! She loved kitsch, but she did not do twee. In fairness, she thought there’d be bunting. Bunting might’ve tipped her over the edge.

  ‘What?’ Callum draped his right arm over the steering wheel and squinted. ‘You mean the nature?’

  ‘Yes.’ Emily shuddered. She’d not seen this much grass since Izzy had dragged her to a festival about a million years ago. ‘It’s all so … natural.’

  Callum snorted and waved her off.

  ‘Final instructions please, Doctor Cheung?’ He put his gearstick hand on his hip and looked over his sunglasses at her with those crazy green eyes of his. ‘The usual? Delight and bewitch everyone with our fabulousness?’

  ‘Yes. That.’ She was nervous. Which was completely insane. She’d had her hands inside a human earlier today. With a drill. Surely she could cope with a bit of nature and a uni housemate’s birthday party? God, she was a shit friend. Had been ever since everyone had left uni except for her. Left her to swim alone in the stormy sea of parental expectations. At least she’d ticked the doctor box. The other stuff? Bleeeurghhh. She arched an imperious eyebrow at Callum and did a refresher course. ‘Okay. Charlotte’s the hostess with the mostest and it’s her birthday.’