17. Sticking Together

17

Sticking Together

Tiffany looked dressed for mid-winter, with a scarf wrapped around her shoulders and a designer woolly hat pressing bunches of curly, unruly hair against the sides of her face. She peered out of round spectacles as she alighted from the bus, giving a wide grin at the sight of Josie standing under the bus shelter, arms open wide.

‘There you are,’ Josie said, and all her fears and nerves evaporated as Tiffany let out a squeal of delight and practically danced down the steps and into her mother’s arms.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Tiffany mumbled into the shoulder of the windcheater Josie wore.

‘What for?’ Josie muttered, holding her daughter tight, not wanting to let go.

‘For everything.’

‘Sweetheart, you’re my little girl. Nothing you do will change how I feel about you. You know that, don’t you?’ Even as she said it, Josie felt a pang of regret for some of her thoughts. In absentia it seemed far too easy to create an internal agenda. Now, face to face with her daughter, none of the fears and doubts mattered any longer. Tiffany was her daughter, for better or worse, and Josie would love the girl to the ends of the earth, no matter what.

‘I should have listened to you.’

Josie pulled away, then patted Tiffany on the cheek. ‘Well, you’ll have plenty of time to listen to me now, won’t you?’ She grinned. ‘How is your father and his … new lady, anyway? Are they planning to get married now that he’s officially … unattached?’

Tiffany rolled her eyes. ‘Well, Dad was hoping to.’

Don’t bash him in front of Tiffany, no matter what he might have said about me. Two wrongs, and all that. ‘I’m sure they’re in love.’

Tiffany laughed. ‘Oh, don’t be silly. I mean, she must be sixty at least, and with all that tanning she does, she looks like a prune. I don’t get it. Is she trying to burn all the wrinkles away? The old crone is going to need a full skin transplant at the rate she’s going.’

‘So, what happened?’

Tiffany rolled her eyes and scoffed. Putting on a pretty accurate toff accent, she said, ‘Oh, darling just sign this prenup and we’ll all good to go.’ She grinned. ‘It was at that point that Dad decided he really didn’t want to get married after all.’

‘Oh well, I suppose at least you don’t need to fork out for a new dress now.’

‘I prefer jeans anyway.’

‘Well, I think you look lovely, whatever you wear.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ Tiffany leant in and gave Josie a kiss on the cheek.

‘My goodness, how long have you been taller than me?’

Tiffany gave Josie that disbelieving roll of the eyes again. ‘Since I was fourteen. Come on, Mum.’ She grinned. ‘Although I’m wearing platforms. They add an inch or two.’

Josie looked down at her daughter’s feet, at a pair of shiny black shoes that appeared to have a sole three-inches thick.

‘I think you might be better off in wellies where we’re going,’ she said. ‘Although first of all, we’re going for coffee and cakes.’

‘Vegan, gluten and wheat-free, one-hundred percent organic?’ Tiffany said, raising an eyebrow.

‘Nope. Ninety-percent sugar, five-percent synthetic flavouring. I think the walnuts might have come from an actual tree, though perhaps via a packet.’

Tiffany grinned. ‘Good. It can get so tiresome living in the city.’

Hilda was waiting for them in the Sunset Harbour Coffee and Fudge Company, and did the surrogate-grandmother thing to perfection, fussing over Tiffany, how much she had grown since their last meeting some years before, her hair, her clothing, how thin she looked, and how she needed an extra-large slice of fudge cake to ‘put some meat on your bones.’

Josie had avoided talking about the elephant in the room, that Tiffany had dropped out of medical school, for fear that it might anger her daughter and sour the rebuilding of their relationship, but Hilda had no such qualms.

‘It’s not that I’ve quit for good,’ Tiffany said. ‘I just needed a little time away. The pressure was getting to me. Going straight from all that studying and exams straight into a residency … I just needed a little downtime.’

It was music to Josie’s ears, but at the mention of pressure, she felt a dome of motherly protection lowering over her daughter. After all, the pressure she had felt as a teacher had at times been punishing, like wearing blinkers, pushing away the outside world. During particularly busy periods, and especially around exam season, she had struggled to give Tiffany the attention she had needed, justifying it at the time by the fact that her husband had been a stay-at-home ‘creative’, even if now she suspected the only things he had created were a few diss-tracks towards his hardworking wife and possibly even a couple of secret half-siblings for his daughter. On the latter, Josie had no proof, however; Reid’s fame wasn’t yet widespread enough that anyone had come out of the cracks to claim his parentage in the tabloids. She wouldn’t put it past him, though.

Hilda waved over the young waitress. The girl lifted a notepad to write down their next order, but Hilda instead patted her on the arm.

‘Rachel here’s fiancé is a doctor, isn’t that right, dear?’

Rachel nodded. ‘That’s right.’

‘Maybe he could talk to Tiffany, pass on a bit of wisdom.’ To Rachel, she said, ‘My surrogate great-niece here is in medical school but finding it a little hard going.’

Rachel nodded. ‘William said it was a total nightmare. If you want a chat, he’s coming over to the pub tonight.’ She grinned. ‘Those are awesome shoes, by the way.’

‘I got them online.’

‘Can I get the site off you?’

‘Sure.’

‘Before you two get into too much fashionista talk, can we get two more slices of Cornish heavy cake?’ Hilda asked.

‘Sure.’

Josie leant across and patted Hilda on the arm. ‘Steady on.’

Hilda just grinned. ‘For the hill, Josephine,’ she said. ‘For the hill.’

In the end, however, with Tiffany’s luggage to carry, they caught the bus back up to the top of the hill. Hilda got off a couple of stops earlier and waved to them as the bus departed. Josie, watching her old friend as she walked away, couldn’t help but feel a pang of worry at the sight of Hilda using a stick, the way she had started to wince as she walked. Soon, though, the bus had turned a corner and the campsite entrance was just up ahead.

‘You might be a little surprised at where we’re staying,’ Josie said. ‘It’s a little … rustic.’

‘As long as you have Wi-Fi, we’re all good.’

‘Ah, yeah, we need to talk about that. Do you remember that time we went camping when you were a child?’

‘Not with happy memories. I fell in a ditch and there was construction work going on in the field next door. They were installing a septic tank, I believe?’

‘Yes … something like that. Well, now’s your chance to overwrite those memories with some happier ones. At least I hope so. Right, this is our stop.’

They got down from the bus. Josie offered to carry Tiffany’s bag, but the girl was insistent. As she hobbled along in her platform shoes, Josie wondered whether she should have already got some wellies down in the village. At least the ground was dry.

As they reached the trees at the bottom of the slope, Barney, Geoffrey and—to Josie’s surprise, Lindsay—stepped out from behind the entrance sign and waved.

‘Welcome, Tiffany, to the Porth Melynos Caravan and Camping Park.’

They began to clap.

‘My staff,’ Josie said. ‘This is Geoffrey, Lindsay and Barney. Although, technically, for the time being, at least, they’re all volunteers.’

Tiffany stared. Josie waited, fearful her daughter might drop her bags and attempt to run away. Tiffany peered under the trees, eyes wide behind her spectacles.

Josie, unable to keep her silence, muttered, ‘Please say something….’

‘Oh, man,’ Tiffany said at last. ‘This is awesome. Are you the manager?’

Josie grimaced. ‘I suppose, technically. But it’s becoming more of a joint project. We’re hoping to be able to open by the middle of June, although at the rate we’re going, it’ll be the middle of June … next year.’

‘Wow,’ Tiffany said. ‘Do you have an adventure walk?’

‘A what?’

‘Like a forest trail with secret stuff for kids to find?’

‘Ah, I don’t think so.’

‘I’ll make it. And do you have a mascot?’

‘A mas … sorry, what?’

‘Mum, come on. You have to have a mascot for stuff like this. A cute badger with a t-shirt or something like that. Woodsie, that would be a cool name. He could have a mate, like a little sparrow who sits on his shoulder. We can call her … Flutterby. Don’t worry, I’ll design them. Have you got somewhere I can plug in my computer?’

‘Ah, electricity is still a work in progress.’

‘Hey,’ came a voice, making them all turn. Robinson, carrying a toolbox in one hand and a rucksack in the other, came striding down the path. His shirt was unbuttoned to the navel, his body, as well as his shirt, flecked with paint.

‘Did I hear someone mention electricity? Dad gave me a call, said you needed some wiring done. I’ve done a bit of wiring myself, thought I’d come over and see if I can help.’

As he set down his toolbox on the ground, Tiffany leant close to Josie. ‘Mum, who’s he?’

‘Oh, the son of the park owner,’ Josie hissed in reply through gritted teeth.

‘He’s a total dish. I mean, he’s waaaaaaay too old for me, but he would be perfect for you.’