My Not So Perfect Life(56)

Beside me, Denise explodes.

“Stoppit!” I whisper, and reach for the Rampant Rabbit again. I pick up the bag and prepare to head outside, though how I’m going to look Barbara in the eye, I have no idea.

“Well, Katie’s just fetching it for you,” says Biddy. “She’ll be out with it any moment.”

“That’s right.” My voice trembles with suppressed hysteria as I appear on the doorstep. “Here it is. Um…safe and sound.”

I’ve wrapped the Rampant Rabbit in brown paper and put it in a carrier bag, just so no one gets an untoward glimpse.

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” says Barbara as she takes the bag from me. “I expect I left it in the bed or somewhere, did I?”

I glance wildly at Biddy, my mouth clamped shut.

“I’m not sure, love,” says Biddy, totally unfazed. “But it seems likely, doesn’t it?”



“I’m so forgetful,” adds Barbara, with a sigh. “And the book hasn’t even been bought yet, so you can imagine how sensitive it is. As I say, I’m mortified. It’s so unprofessional, to leave a manuscript on holiday!”

I’ve frozen dead. Manuscript? Book?

“You’ve wrapped it up very nicely.” Barbara smiles and starts to poke at the brown paper. “I might just double-check it’s the right document….”

Shit, shit…

“Oh!” I try to grab the bag back from her. “Let me just…unwrap it for you.”

“I’ll do it.” She starts pulling the brown paper off and my stomach lurches as I see a flash of pink plastic.

“No trouble!” I say shrilly, wrenching the bag out of her hands. Ignoring her cry of surprise, I dash inside. “Papers!” I gasp, dumping the Rampant Rabbit on the floor. “It’s the papers.”

Denise is already one step ahead. She’s gathered up all the papers from the crate and shoves them into my hands.

“So, here we are.” I hurry back outside and thrust the pages toward Barbara, who looks a little taken aback. “I’m afraid they’ve got a bit muddled….”

“Not to worry.” Barbara starts leafing through the pages. “Yes, this is it. Again, I’m so embarrassed. It’s such sensitive material.”

“Really,” I say weakly. “No need to be.”

“We’ve seen worse,” says Denise, stepping out beside me and giving Barbara a bland smile.

“I’m sure.” Barbara hesitates, and I peer at her in surprise. Her pink cheeks are turning deeper crimson. “Actually, as well as the book, I did leave another…um…item….I think that might have been it in the bag….”



For a frozen moment no one moves. Then, in an odd, strangled voice, Denise says, “Of course.”

She retrieves the Rampant Rabbit and hands it over. I can’t look at Barbara. I can’t look anywhere.

“Well…er…enjoy!” I say.

Somehow we all keep it together as Barbara gets back into her SUV and zooms off. Then Biddy catches my eye and starts giggling, and that starts me off. And Denise just shakes her head and says, “Them glampers.”

We’re all pretty much in hysterics as Dad appears round the corner of the farm and says, “Wake up, you lot! There’s a car coming up the drive. The first family’s here.”

—

The next few hours are a blur. It’s always the same on a Saturday—a crowd of new faces and names and questions, all to be met with a charming smile. This is Archie…this is Poppy…this is Hamish, he’s allergic to dairy; didn’t we write that on the form? Oh, so sorry…

The families all seem nice enough, and I’m especially keen on Gerald and Nina, who are soon sitting out on their deck, mixing gin and tonics and offering them to all the other families. Poppy is already scampering around with her dad, looking at all the animals, while Hamish, Harrison, and Harley are glued to their iPads—but I’m not their parents, what do I care? All that concerns me is that everyone is checked in, greeted, and sorted. Which they all are, except the Wiltons.

I’m walking among the yurts, checking that everything seems OK, when I notice that Gus the dog has already got into a field of sheep.



“Oh, hi!” I say, heading over to his owners’ yurt. “Knock knock? Gus is such a gorgeous dog. Only I wonder if you’d mind keeping him this side of the fence? The sheep get a bit freaked.”

“Oh, of course,” says the dad, who I’ve remembered is called Giles and comes from Hampstead. He’s tall and gangling and is holding a copy of a book called The Campfire Gourmet. As he comes out to retrieve Gus, he adds, “We’re so looking forward to the willow-weaving workshop tomorrow.”

“It should be fun! And if you’d like full English breakfast, just sign up…unless you’re going to make your own?”

“We’re making our own,” says Giles resolutely, as he whistles for Gus. “On the fire.”

“Good for you!” I say, ruffling Gus’s head. “Well, I’ll catch you later.”

As I head back toward the farmhouse, I feel…if not ecstatic exactly, then content. Another turnaround nearly completed. We’re getting better at it every week. Denise is catching on to some of our special touches, and Biddy is brimming with ideas, and—