The Holiday – Part 12
I made a show of putting my hand over Ana’s mouth. Cue: laughter. Derek left smiling.
I turned to exclaim see our Ana!
to my Mother. But Mother was gone. We heard the toilet flushing.
The unpacking began. Mamie managing the decant from car to house in a series of finger points; aggravated facial expressions and shouts.
But in the end there is nowt so invigorating as the start of a holiday – even after the journey from hell.
Nothing beats that fight over who sleeps where. The wonders of a bunk bed and a pile of second hand dvds. Or the investigation of nooks and crannies.
Mother immediately commandeered cleanliness and the adequacy of kitchen, appliances and bathrooms. Cooker (adequate). Fridge (too small). Number of pots and pans (begin worrying over dinner now).
With a few speculatory comments about the budding scrapyard, Dad settled into one of the deep and comfy living-room chairs and could be heard snoring shortly after.
Jamie and Ana went for an explore up the hill. Closely followed by Meg – who was in the early throes of panic attack as (horrors!) there was no mobile phone signal at the house.
Mother got out the bleach and J clothes and started worrying every visible surface.
I walked across the yard, away from the house and toward the wide, deeply sloping field we had skirted on the final stretch here. And stood breathing in the golden, sun-kissed air. The silence sung to me like a lullaby. And for just a precious moment I could swear I was touching eternity.