A Family Holiday (12 page)

Sunday dawned and Charlie was very much hoping for a day off. Whilst it had been good to have some help from Fleur the day before, Charlie was fast realising that it wasn’t the same as a day off. The constant responsibility and the dark cloud drizzling overhead – the guardianship issue – was all dragging her down. She checked her clock, strained her ear and when she heard no sign of life, turned over. Perhaps she could squeeze in another half an hour before Millie woke the house up. She closed her eyes and a very slight click jolted her to consciousness. There was someone out of bed and they were heading downstairs.

Charlie tried to convince herself that it would be one of the boys, in which case she could leave them to fend for themselves for half an hour, but something kept poking at her and she realised that she simply had to get up. She let out a low groan as she swung her legs out of bed, put on her penguin slipper socks and went to investigate.

Whoever it was, was being very considerate, she decided, as she tiptoed down the stairs that led down from the ground floor to the kitchen as they were opening cupboards and taking extra care not to disturb anyone. As she reached the last step she saw it was Ted and she was about to ask him if he wanted a cuppa when the reality of the situation permeated her consciousness. Ted spun around with the look of a burglar caught in the act, as he held an open rucksack with one hand and a pack of twelve small Kit Kats in the other. Charlie stared from the bag to Ted. He was wearing his walking boots, activity trousers and a lightweight designer jacket.

‘I’m… I’m…’ faltered Ted, still stuck in the same pose.

‘Running away?’ offered Charlie.

‘Yes,’ said Ted, plunging the packet of Kit Kats into the rucksack and doing it up, defiance and determination etched across his face. Charlie knew now was the time to stay calm. She walked nonchalantly across the kitchen, checked there was water in the kettle and flicked the switch, aware that Ted was waiting for a reaction.

‘So where are you planning to stay?’

‘Don’t know yet. On the streets if I have to.’ The defiance flared in his eyes.

‘You got everything you need?’ she said, giving a cursory nod at the rucksack and Ted followed her eyes.

‘Er, yeah. I think so.’ This was obviously not the response he’d been expecting and he was still on high alert, having been rumbled.

‘There’s no rush. The others won’t be up for ages. Do you want a cuppa before you go? It may be a while before you get another one.’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Have you got some cash?’

‘Thirty pounds and my bank card.’

‘Where is it?’

‘In my wallet, in my pocket,’ said Ted, as if it was a trick question. Charlie pulled a face and gave a little shake of her head as the kettle boiled behind her. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘First place they’ll look. Neat boy like you turns up with all the latest in outdoor gear, they’ll have you stripped and beaten up within seconds. My advice is to stick it into your socks. I would have said boots but they’ll have nicked those too. You sure you don’t want a cuppa?’

‘No, I need to get going.’

‘Have you got phone numbers written down?’

‘No, I’ve got my phone,’ said Ted pulling the latest model from Apple out of his pocket. Charlie pulled a page off the nearby shopping list pad and scribbled down numbers.

‘You won’t have that by this time tomorrow. Here, telephone numbers: the house and my mobile. If it gets too much, call me. Anytime, okay?’ said Charlie firmly, as she pushed the piece of paper across the counter towards him. Ted took it and folded it in half. She could see that he was thinking. He stood there for a moment staring at the folded paper in his hand.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. ‘Bye, Charlie. Thanks for… everything,’ he said, losing eye contact. He swung his rucksack onto his shoulder and turned to leave.

Charlie felt a pang of panic in her gut. She had to hit him with something substantial to make him stay. ‘Pee in the street,’ she said hastily.

‘What?’ said Ted with a half-laugh as he turned to look at her, his foot already on the bottom stair, so close to carrying him out of the house. ‘I’m not going to be weeing in the street.’

‘I mean don’t use public toilets. Use pubs or McDonalds. They’re usually all right, but if there’s not one open find a side street and pee there.’

‘Right… okay,’ said Ted slowly, his face showing that he was still trying to work out exactly what the point of this weird bit of advice was.

‘Ted, you do know what happens to good-looking boys like you when they live on the streets, don’t you?’ asked Charlie, looking directly at him, the fear dancing across her face. Ted pulled his rucksack further onto his shoulder.

‘You’re just trying to scare me now,’ he said, some of his lost cockiness starting to return as he turned around to climb the stairs.

‘No, I’m not Ted. There are plenty of messed-up people out there that’ll scare the crap out of you far better than I ever could. Take pleasure in it, even,’ she said, picking up her mug and praying that she’d said enough. She sipped her tea and stared at the back of Ted’s head, as he stood motionless, with one boot lightly placed on the bottom step. Charlie took another sip of tea and listened to the seconds thud by in her ears.

At last Ted let the rucksack slide off his shoulder and he slowly turned around.

‘I am going to leave. I’m not going into care,’ he said, his jaw tight. Charlie checked the water in the kettle and got another mug out of the cupboard in silence. Ted trudged over to the counter and put down his rucksack.

‘I know you meant to go, Ted,’ said Charlie, handing him his tea.

‘And I still will, but I need to think through the details a bit more.’ He pointed to his logo-emblazoned t-shirt and Charlie nodded her agreement.

‘Mind if I have a look?’ asked Charlie, pointing at the fat rucksack. Ted shrugged and climbed onto the shiny black barstool. She opened the rucksack, still stiff from being new. She pulled out the contents and laid them on the counter between herself and Ted. For the first time that morning he looked sheepish.

‘Sorry for taking all this.’

‘It’s fine, you’ll need to learn to do a lot worse than that to survive on the streets.’

‘There are hostels and places you can stay,’ said Ted, with authority. ‘I Googled them.’

‘Yep, not a lot better than the streets, but they are warm and dry and you can get a shower. However, you only get to stay for the odd night. Also you usually have to queue for hours and you can’t go back for a while – to give others their turn.’

‘Huh,’ said Ted, taking a slug of hot tea, ‘I didn’t realise.’

Charlie surveyed the collected treasures from the rucksack. She pulled a few items to one side, ‘Bottle of water, torch, spare clothes, toothbrush and paste… and a razor,’ she said with a flick of amusement making her eyebrow jump. Ted responded by rubbing a hand over his sparsely populated chin. ‘These are all good choices,’ she continued. ‘You need more socks, though. Dry socks are vital.’

‘Okay,’ said Ted, without questioning why.

‘The rest of it is only good for today,’ she said, pointing at the remaining items that looked like a selection of primary-school raffle prizes.

‘I wouldn’t eat that lot in a day,’ he said, looking incredulous, and he put down his tea.

‘No, but they won’t last any longer in a sweaty rucksack. Chocolate bars and chocolate biscuits will melt,’ she pointed to each item in turn, ‘cheese sweats and goes mouldy. Bread sweats, gets squashed into a lump and also goes mouldy. Fruit juice will go off, which makes it expand and you don’t want that exploding in your bag. Yoghurt? Seriously?’

‘I’m a bit rubbish at this, aren’t I?’ said Ted, keeping his eyes on his tea, his shoulders sloping forward.

‘You need to think it through, that’s all.’

Ted blew gently on the surface of his tea, making it ripple. ‘What would you take?’

‘As well as your good pile here and your waterproofs, I’d take ginger nuts – they’re good. They’re tougher than most biscuits so don’t turn to crumbs too easily and they last quite well. Layers: you need short sleeves, long sleeves, jumper and fleece because sometimes you’ll need to wear it all. And you always,
always
take honey.’

‘Honey? I don’t really like the stuff.’

‘It’s the only food that never goes bad, so you keep it for emergencies. It’s a good energy hit when there’s nothing else left.’

‘You know a lot about this.’ He nodded at the lame survival kit he’d packed. ‘Have you lived on the streets?’

‘No!’ said Charlie with a shake of her head, ‘I couldn’t hack it. I’ve done the odd couple of nights here and there but that was enough for me. It really would be my last resort.’

The sound of claws on polished wood alerted them to Wriggly, who was in the hallway. He appeared at the top of the stairs and gave a giant yawn. Then spotting them on the barstools he started to wag his tail in greeting. He had a stretch and started his descent. He always looked alarmed when he came downstairs, as if he thought his back end was chasing him and might overtake his front. He came over and started some half-hearted jumps up at Ted’s leg as he knew he couldn’t make it up onto the high stool with his little legs but usually someone took pity on him and picked him up. When nobody did, he went and sat at Charlie’s feet and looked up hopefully in search of someone to get his breakfast.

Ted was quiet for the rest of the morning and Charlie felt it was best to leave him to his thoughts. Let him work it out in his own way. She would be forever thankful that she had come down that morning and caught him before he had done something rash. She hoped he would have had the sense to come home when he realised his mistake, but teenage boys could be very stubborn so there was no guarantee that he would have done and she dreaded to think what fate could have befallen him in the meantime. She would never have forgiven herself if he’d come to any harm. Never. She knew she’d lost her temper the night before and said things she shouldn’t have said to him. At the end of the day, no matter how grown up he seemed, he was still only a fifteen-year-old boy. Her intention had been to make him understand the seriousness of the situation, she hadn’t bargained on him running away from it. She had to make sure that she kept an even tighter rein on her temper from now on.

Charlie let the children have a lazy day and she cooked a roast dinner with all the trimmings. There was always something comforting to Charlie about a roast dinner – it felt like the food of families. She and Eleanor, with a small amount of hindrance from Millie, had made a chocolate swirl cheesecake for dessert and there had almost been a bout of all-in wrestling when it came to licking out the bowl. The children were very keen to have dessert, so all had made a good effort with their main course.

After dinner it had stopped raining so they played in the garden. They built a den out of twigs and some plastic sheeting and played a game of boules; even Ted joined in. The game kept Millie occupied for all of twenty seconds. Wriggly ran after each boule that was rolled and barked at it excitedly until it stopped, then he strutted back to the bowlers looking very proud of himself. This was highly funny until he ran over the white jack ball and sent it skidding across the lawn, causing a huge debate about whose boule had been the closest at the time. Unsurprisingly, all the children were adamant that their coloured boule had been the winner until the incident had occurred, even Millie, whose boule had somehow ended up on the patio.

George stood in front of Charlie with his hands clasped in prayer, ‘Please can we have the water pistols out,’ he pleaded. Charlie knew it was a bad idea. It always ended badly, with someone getting hurt or cross, but it was so much harder to say no to them these days. She gave a nod and George was off like an Olympic sprinter.

As Charlie had rightly predicted, Eleanor was in tears within ten minutes and ended up sitting on Charlie’s lap after she’d been accidently shot in the eye. George was out of action soon after when he fell over backwards trying to get away from Ted, who was conducting a pretty conclusive annihilation. Apparently the console games had been good training for something after all.

When they were all wet and cold, she pointed them in the direction of the various baths and showers in the house and they all got into their pyjamas early. They sat on the living-room floor together and played some board games, with Charlie taking Millie’s turn when she got distracted, which was most of the time.

Charlie got the calendar down and she went through what the week ahead had in store for them, dishing out instructions for school bags. They had sandwiches and cake on a picnic rug in the living room and they all curled up wherever there was space on a sofa or a chair and watched a Disney film chosen by democratic vote.

‘Ickle Mermaid, Ickle Mermaid!’ chanted Millie, waving her favourite DVD. Thankfully the children were kind enough to all vote for
The Little Mermaid
. When it was time for bed, Charlie felt something she hadn’t noticed was missing until then – the sense of being unsettled had waned. There was a calmness about them all, a sense of things being back in their rightful place. Not exactly as they should be, obviously, but it felt better all the same.

She tucked the girls into their respective beds and set the nightlight how they liked it, kissed them each in turn, followed by Eleanor’s sausage-dog toy that had lost its tail long ago and finally kissed Millie’s Pooh Bear as many times as she presented it, which was a lot. She watched them snuggle down and heard them giggling as she shut the door.

Charlie went to give George a high-five hand slap and she found herself in a hug that nearly toppled her over. ‘Night,’ he said, suddenly looking embarrassed at his show of emotion.

‘Night, George,’ she said, giving his shoulder a squeeze and he grinned back at her as he switched off his light.

Charlie tidied up downstairs, returned the calendar to its rightful place and as she went to put the lights out in the living room she saw that Ted was sitting on the sofa.