Ikea Ideal Day: 2013 365 Challenge #314

Ikea, Milton Keynes – photo by Ian Paterson

Family Martin woke up grumpy today. We’re all still adjusting to the new normal, particularly poor hubbie who is feeling squeezed between work and the children, with no time for him. We had promised the kids a trip to an indoor play centre, but we weren’t in the right frame of mind.

When hubbie is low, spending money acts as a pick-me-up so, as we’ve also been promising the kids new wardrobes for ages, we decided a trip to Ikea might be in order. It tends to be a momentous family outing, because it’s miles away and the children aren’t used to car trips over an hour. I loaded up the iPad with TV shows, chucked in some snacks and off we went.

Ikea on a Saturday is a crazy idea, but we went with a plan. After twenty minutes waiting for a parking place, and another twenty minutes queuing for the obligatory meatballs, we happened to mention to the children about the crèche, not thinking for one minute they’d entertain the idea. They cry going to nursery, after three years of going, so dropping them with strangers seemed unlikely.

Happy crèche

They were keen to try it, though, so we booked them in and spent the half hour wait letting the darlings pick the colours of their wardrobe doors. Amazingly they then went into the crèche without a fuss. Hurrah.

Oh my goodness what a difference! I can’t imagine trying to design, order and pick the twenty-odd components required for their units with them competing for our attention. As for getting through the market hall without, “Mummy I want… mummy look… mummy can I…?” Instead our bag only contained a couple of stocking fillers and the usual tat hubbie and I couldn’t leave without. 🙂

The best part was going to pick them up after the hour and seeing two happy smiley faces. Free childcare (which I get very very rarely) and happy kids, what more could you want? When I collected them, daughter said, “Mummy, I don’t want to do crèche again.” Ah well, it was fab while it lasted!

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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Claire cupped her hands around the mug of tea and gazed out the tall Georgian windows at the view. After the bustle of her busy day, it was good to stop and rest her throbbing feet. With a belly full of food and the aroma of hot tea drifting up to her, she felt her face relax for the first time in hours. The Eden Project had assaulted all her senses in good ways and bad, and her mind still wrestled with her Gift Aid idea, wondering if it was possible to take it further than a mere suggestion. There seemed such merit it, her brain wouldn’t let it lie.

When the phone rang, she didn’t realise immediately it was hers. Glancing around the dining room, she flushed as she saw people looking her way. She grabbed the phone from the table and held it to her ear, shielding her face with her hair.

“Hello?” Her voice came out in a hiss.

“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”

“Robert? No, of course not. How are you? Why are you calling? Is everything okay?”

“Can’t a man call his sister without it being the end of the world?” Robert said defensively and Claire smiled. It was clear he wanted something.

“Maybe not every brother, Rob, but definitely you. You never call me unless it’s to tell me off.” She remembered the last out-of-the-blue call, after a photo on her neglected blog, and her smile grew wider.

“Yes, well, that’s not why I’m calling. I haven’t spoken to you in a while, that’s all. I wondered how you were getting on. And Ruth, of course.”

“You could call Ruth yourself.”

“I did, actually, but she was just heading out to some meeting at church of all places.”

Claire’s smile dropped as she wondered what her sister was doing going to church on a Wednesday evening. “Was she taking Sky?”

“No, Sky’s with her dad, can you believe? Apparently he’s moved back nearby and sees her twice a week.”

Claire felt genuinely glad that Chris had decided to move nearer to his daughter. She didn’t want to get into that particular discussion with Robert, though. They were unlikely to see eye to eye about it.

“That’s good,” was all she said. “If you spoke to Ruth you know more about her than I do, I’m afraid. We talked a week or ten days ago, but all she had to say to me was about the church, too. I do hope she’s not getting caught up in some cult.”

“In England? Really, Claire, you do come up with the most fanciful things.”

She heard the hesitation in his voice and she imagined him realising that criticising her wasn’t the best lead in to a favour. She was about to tease him some more when her work idea came into her mind.

“Actually, brother mine, I have an concept to run by you. How easy would it be to set up a national scheme to allow gift aid to be taken easily? It only needs to have details like a person’s address and tax eligibility, but it would need to be read by a chip and pin machine or have a barcode or something.”

There was a pause and she could almost hear her brother’s financial brain whirring. “That would be quite straight forward,” he said eventually, “but you’d need someone financially motivated to set it up. Who would benefit?”

“The charities, I guess. Quicker entry time, more gift aid collected.”

“That wouldn’t be enough. Unless each charity were to subscribe, or members paid for their card, who would fund it?”

“What about British Tourism?”

“Hmmm. Possible. Marketing, that’s the key. Being able to use the list of names to market to, or having the card sponsored by a major partner. Interesting idea. Who came up with it?”

“I did.”

“Well, well done sis. It has merit. Let me know if you need financial partners, I can put the word out.”

Claire beamed. If her brother thought the idea had merit, then it wasn’t too daft to put in her report.

“I will. So, why are you really calling?” She decided he’d been too helpful not to put him out of his misery.

“Ah, yes. I have a favour to ask. I was going to ask Ruth, but she didn’t give me a chance and, on reflection, you may be the better person.”

“Come on, Robert, spit it out.”

“Er, can you take the boys for a few weeks in the summer?”

“What?” Claire sat up straight, wincing as her chair legs scraped on the floor. “Why?”

Her words were greeted with silence. Claire waited for her brother to speak, fear twisting at her stomach as she wondered what his next words might be.

“Francesca and I split up. A few months ago, actually. The boys are in a boarding school, so it hasn’t been a big deal. But it’s the long vacation now. Francesca’s having them for half the time, but they’ll be with me for three weeks.” He took a deep breath, and his next words were nearly a wail. “I can’t have them on my own for three weeks! I have to work. And, besides, what do I know about looking after adolescent boys?”

“And I know so much more?” Claire blurted out without thinking.

“Well, you’re a woman; these things come naturally.”

Claire thought about her time with Sky, and snorted. “Not so much.”

“So you won’t take them?” His voice was accusing. Then, in a defeated tone, he added, “I guess I’ll have to ask mother. Or Ruth.”

Good luck with that, Claire thought. She tried to imagine travelling round with her nephews. Would it be so much harder than having Sky? There would be two of them, so wouldn’t they entertain each other? And they were older than her niece.

“How many weeks are we talking exactly? And when?”

“Claire, you’re an angel.”

“Wait, I haven’t said yes. I’m just asking for more information. I can’t have them for last week of July or the first week of August.”

“Oh.” He paused, then said brightly, “Well maybe I can swap weeks with Francesca. How about if I brought them to you this weekend?”

“What? Robert, no, I can’t. My boss will freak. I’m struggling to get into the hostels as it is, without needing two extra beds.”

“That’s okay, the boys can stay in a tent.”

“On their own? They’re only, what, seven and nine?”

“Ten and twelve.”

Oops.

“Even so. And surely Francesca won’t change plans just like that.” She wanted to ask more about the breakup of their marriage, but her head was spinning with the idea that she might have to look after two boys for a fortnight.

“She’ll do what I tell her to; I’m paying her a handsome settlement for her to live in an apartment and get her nails painted.”

So, not an amicable split then. Oh dear.

She thought about her nephews, caught in the middle, shuffled from pillar to post. She thought about them stuck at her mother’s house for two weeks, while her dad wrote his novel and her mum went to WI meetings.

“Alright. I’ll take them. Two weeks though,” she added quickly, as Robert filled the airways with his dignified gratitude. “And they bring a tent.” She thought about how expensive the Eden Project had been, and mentally multiplied it by three. “And you pay for all their accommodation fees and the like.”

“Yes, yes of course. I’ll speak to Francesca, and I’ll call you with the details.”

As Claire disconnected the phone, she wondered what on earth she had agreed to.

***

IKEA Nanny Banned Commercial (parisrenovation.wordpress.com)
design at dinner time: the new trendig range from IKEA (thelifecreativeblog.com)
IKEA 365 Campaign (neilperkin.typepad.com)

My Handsome Date: 2013 365 Challenge #312

My handsome date

Today I went on my first date in nine years with a handsome young chap with a charming smile. It wasn’t a fancy date, and I didn’t mind paying. Nor did I mind the chattering repetitive conversation. I only baulked slightly at the £6 bus fare to travel twenty minutes into town, or the money spent on a lunch uneaten, for the sake of a small plastic toy.

I rode the lift and the escalator as many times as he requested, I walked slowly and watched the pigeons. I left the museum willingly because “the noises were scary”. I gave him my (mostly) undivided attention (I am writing this in McD) and endured the humiliation of trying to figure out the bus timetable as a group of amused pensioners looked on and gave helpful advice (my last paying trip on a bus was more years ago than my last date.)

He has his hand around my heart, this young man of mine. I am proud to be out with him, to give him my time freely. I’m glad I cleaned house yesterday in all my angst, because I bought this day of freedom. I’m trying not to feel guilty that this is our first date or that his sister hasn’t really ever had one. Instead I’m trying to be proud of what we are doing rather than guilty for what hasn’t been done before.

Anyway, I must stop writing and get back to my date. We mustn’t miss our bus home, I’m looking forward to my cuddle on the top deck.

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“Hi, I’m Paul, I’ll be your instructor for today.”

Claire nodded at the tanned man standing in front of her, blushing slightly as he returned her greeting with a grin. She tugged at the neck of her wetsuit and looked around the group, wondering what she was doing there. There were ten of them on the beach, including a young lad with his grandpa and a group of thirty-something women giggling and blushing every time the teacher looked in their direction.

At her feet a brightly patterned surfboard rested on the sand, taunting her. Claire knew there was no way she would be standing on it by the end of the two hours, despite all of Paul’s enthusiastic assurances. She thought about her previous activities and accidents; falling off her bike; spraining her arm learning to snowboard. If she could stand on solid ground by the end of the day that would be enough.

She turned to gaze down the beach. The sand stretched endlessly, glistening under the morning sun. The sea slithered up and down the shore thirty metres behind the teacher, and she could see the sand beneath the waves.

At least it isn’t deep, so I won’t drown when I fall off.

As she followed Paul’s instructions, lying on her board and pretending to paddle, Claire felt glad that there were no witnesses.

Josh would be having a field day if he was here. I expect he surfs like a champion.

She looked at the white crests breaking along the horizon and gave a shudder. Paul had told them with an unnerving grin that the waves were just right for their lesson; maybe on the high side for beginners but better than a dead calm sea. Claire wasn’t sure she agreed. Although they didn’t look huge from the beach, she was certain it would be a different matter when they were pouring over her head.

She stood bemused as she learned she had a goofy foot, not entirely sure she understood what it meant. Ignoring Paul’s guffaws, she kept her focus on the lesson, repeating the pop up technique again and again until he was happy that everyone had grasped it.

“Right, peeps, I think you’re ready. Let’s go catch some waves.”

Fear clenched her stomach as the moment she’d been dreading arrived. Despite the sun overhead, the freezing water expelled the air from Claire’s lungs and she muttered a few choice curses. Seeing the grandpa frolicking in the waves like a five year old forced her to square her shoulders and dive headlong into the water. Once she was wet it wasn’t so bad.

The air filled with the sound of laughter as everyone in the group tried to remember all they’d been taught. Getting up onto one knee wasn’t so bad, and Claire’s body filled with elation as the wave caught her board and dragged her back towards the sand.

Paddling out again, despite the water being shallow enough to wade, Claire tried to stop caring what anyone thought, concentrating instead on getting to her feet. Her confidence was premature and she toppled off the board before she’d even got onto her knees.

She surfaced coughing and spitting out water, waiting for the teasing and laughter. As she looked around, the other students were too busy pulling themselves back on their boards or brushing wet hair from their faces to notice. There was a sense of camaraderie that she hadn’t expected.

Claire pulled herself back on the board and paddled out again. The wait for the right wave was a strange sort of pause. Then she saw the perfect line of froth and positioned herself to catch it. Paddling hard, she managed to get to her knees, ignoring the throb of pain as she landed too hard. The board pulled beneath her like a dog on a lead, and she tried to decide whether to enjoy the ride or attempt getting to her feet. Before her mind was made up, the board ran into the sand and it was time to start again.

It never felt tedious, grabbing the board and propelling it back out to sea. It was a game; choosing the right wave, waiting just the right amount of time, jumping on board at the precise moment so that she swooped back to shore like a bird.

Eventually, after falling off and into the sea more times than a toddler learning to walk, she managed to climb briefly to her feet. With a loud whoop of joy, she dug her toes into the waxed plastic and rode the wave back to the sparkling sand. As it ground into the beach she jumped off and punched the air.

“Well done,” Paul said, coming over to give her a high five. “You’re a natural. Are you coming back tomorrow?”

The smile slipped slightly and Claire shook her head. “Unfortunately not; I have to keep moving.”

“Nay worry. The day’s still young. Go get those waves, girl, they’re waiting.”

With a quick nod Claire picked up her board and ran back into the sea.

***

Pumpkin Carving: 2013 365 Challenge #301

Getting stuck into the pumpkin

Today was hubbie’s ‘day off” so, after taking an hour in the morning to write my post, I took the children to the Farm for some Hallowe’en half term fun.

Our local farm always has some great activities on during the school holidays. This time they had a room full of craft (great, considering a huge storm is about to hit the UK, so indoor activities are essential) as well as the spooky house tour and pumpkin carving.

We skipped the spooky house tour – I think I’d like an extra parent with me before attempting that with under fives – but the craft room was empty when we got there, so we had great fun making paper spiders and cobwebs, Hallowe’en masks and origami cats. We played spot the difference and did spooky word searches and Mummy had lots of fun doing colouring in! 🙂

After that we ventured outside into the sunshine and wind, to see the animals. The larger beasts all look a bit sorry for themselves, covered in mud and sheltering from the incoming winter. We were lucky though – apart from a wind strong enough to blow us away, the weather was lovely. It was so nice to be able to get outside for the first time in weeks.

Which face is more scary?

The kids made sand castles, fed goats and ducks, and stroked the horses. We went to see the baby quail chicks – oh my goodness but they’re tiny (I didn’t have a camera, unfortunately): they’re a week old and still only about half the size of a kiwi fruit (you have no idea how long it took to come up with a size comparison that made sense either side of the Atlantic!)

Then came the pumpkin carving. This is the first year either of the children has been able to actually do any of the carving, although I noticed the delightful job of scooping out sticky seeds still came to Mummy. My son wanted to recreate his own face on his pumpkin, while daughter went for a cat. I have to say, they did a pretty good job! (Shame about the photos, but you get the idea).

After a lunch of chips and ice cream (The clocks went back last night, so they’d already had a decent brunch, thankfully!) we had one more trip round the animals before heading off to the supermarket. An hour of shopping and all three of us were exhausted. Unfortunately, I still had bath time to tackle when I got home. Poor daughter is ripping up her neck itching after her unwelcome visitors, so we took some Twitter advice and washed their hair in tea tree shampoo, (to much chorusing of “it stinks!” Hopefully the crawlers think so too).

An hour of Daddy tiring time and then to bed. Unfortunately, somewhere along the line I appear to have picked up a cold, so tonight’s post is a bit lacking in glamour. As it’s half term tomorrow and I get no childcare for a week, all the posts might be a little under par. I’ll do my best! 🙂 I’m off for a dinner of pumpkin soup now (shop bought, I confess) as I don’t have the energy to cook anything else and hubbie doesn’t really do cooking!

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Claire had no idea what time it was as she swung the car into the hotel car park. Her twenty-year old banger didn’t have a dashboard clock and the black rectangle of her phone had as much life as a house brick.

I really ought to invest in a watch.

Smoothing down her trousers, Claire locked the car and headed into the hotel. As she walked, she let her heavy hair fall over her face. It wasn’t going to pass close scrutiny, but she could live without the curious stares of strangers as they tried to work out if she was injured or deformed.

The hotel lobby echoed with the clipping sound of her heels as she paced to the reception desk. When she spoke to the woman behind the counter she was surprised to hear a wobble in her voice.

“Hi, I’m meeting someone for dinner. I doubt he will have made reservations, is there somewhere I can wait?”

“Are you Miss Carleton?”

Claire’s face grew hotter, and she gave a minute nod.

“I’m so glad. Mr O’Keefe said he tried to call you, to inform you that he was running late, but was unable to contact you. Please wait in the lounge, and he’ll come and find you when he arrives.”

Damn, damn, damn.

Claire nodded her acquiescence at the receptionist and followed her directions to the lounge.

I can’t believe he tried to ring me when my phone was flat. Now he really is going to think I’m incompetent.

Claire ordered a latte and chose a seat in the dark shadows at the corner of the room. She wished she’d brought a book, and vowed to replace her much-missed tablet with her first pay cheque, assuming one actually arrived and Conor didn’t sack her for ineptitude in her first week.

For want of something to do, she pulled out the notes she’d made at the library, and tried to cram the information into her beleaguered brain. The facts and figures refused to stick. Her mind buzzed with concern at her boss’s imminent arrival and her body yelled in pain every time she shifted in her seat.

She had taken to counting the bottles behind the bar by the time she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

“I’m over here,” she replied, raising a hand, and making sure her hair still hung low over her face.

“Claire, hi, I’m so sorry I’m late. Last minute hiccup. I tried to call you.” Conor strode over to where she sat, wheeling a small case behind him and carrying a suit bag over his shoulder.

“Sorry, my battery died while I was out walking today and I didn’t get a chance to charge it. You know smart phones; they only stay charged for about ten minutes.” She kept her voice light and hoped that honesty was the best policy.

“Beautiful day for a hike. Where did you go? No, wait, let me just run these things up to my room. Why don’t you go through to the restaurant and I’ll meet you there?” He waited only for her to signal her agreement, and then he was gone.

Claire felt strangely flat, as she watched him weave his way through the tables and back out towards the lifts. As he disappeared out of sight, she had to remind herself this wasn’t a date, it was business.

***

How To: Preserve a Carved Pumpkin (wendyandbriantietheknot.com)
Practice Pumpkin Carving (erinhueston.wordpress.com)
Stunning Rorschach Pumpkin Carving (betweenthepagesblog.typepad.com)
Stunning Disney Villains Pumpkin Carvings (betweenthepagesblog.typepad.com)
No Carve No Cut Pumpkin Projects (frogprincepaperie.com)
Pre-Hallowe’en Writer’s Block – Catch the Flu Fever… (pharmaspire.wordpress.com)
Tips for carving a great pumpkin (readingeagle.com)

En Guard! 2013 365 Challenge #298

Fencing Lesson

I took little man to his first solo class for the first time today. Actually, pretty much his first class ever, aside from swimming lessons when he was a baby. It’s difficult to do activities with two children of different ages and temperaments. Now my daughter is at school, though, it’s time to stop being rubbish and let the boy have some fun.

I saw an advert for fencing lessons on the FB page of the school we were going to send our daughter to, until we opted to keep her with her friends. One of the plus points of the school, for me, had been the fencing lessons – given by a former champion. Turns out the children don’t have to attend the school to go to the classes.

I was nervous before the class, unsure how my little Mummy’s Boy would cope. Actually it was probably me who did the wrong thing to begin with. I sat too near and found myself acting as supplementary coach, reinforcing the teacher’s instructions. A gentle admonishment later, from the charming Kiwi instructor, and I took myself off to sit with the other mums.

Adorable Preschoolers

More challenges for me there, as I got chatting about it being my son’s first class and had to endure the guilt of the mum next to me talking about all the things her daughter does. I have to remind myself that I made a conscious decision NOT to do loads of activities with the children. I did realise, though, that part of my strategy is flawed: I said I would only sign them up to classes for things they expressed an interest in. But how can they show interest in something they’ve never seen before?

I also made the tactical error of showing my son videos of children fencing, to set his expectations before the class. As a result he was a bit miffed to be led around on a wolf hunt, being surreptitiously taught the right way to move his feet and hold his epee, and kept running back to sit on my lap. Once they got to the ‘proper’ fencing, though, he was a happy boy. Who knows? He might be 2024 Olympic champion! Not that I’m a pushy parent, of course. 😉

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND, ALTHOUGH BASED IN AN ACTUAL LOCATION, IT DOES NOT FEATURE REAL PEOPLE OR OPINIONS. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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“It’s beautiful here. You must be gutted that it’s closing down.” Claire looked over at the manager, then back out the window at the view. “The thing I love about the YHA hostels is that so many of them are in amazing buildings or locations like this.”

“Unfortunately some of those buildings are actually owned by the National Trust. If they don’t make money, then you can understand why they might decide to call it a day.”

The manager’s reasonable words didn’t fool Claire. She could hear the bitterness carefully concealed beneath the steady conversational tone.

“Your problem has to be access, yes?” Claire thought about some of the places she’d stayed in during her trip around New Zealand. “Why don’t you pick passengers up from the station? That’s what they do in the sticks in other countries.”

The manager smiled. “And who is going to do that? Or pay for the minibus or the insurance? All these things cost money.”

Claire gritted her teeth and forced a smile. “What about the coastal walk near here, what is it–?”

“The South West Coast Path?”

“Yes, that’s it. Could you set yourself up as a waypoint, with special offers for walkers? There’s a website that organises accommodation for walkers: you could speak to them.”

The manager’s smile lost some of its sparkle. “Luggage Transfers? We’re already on it, thanks.”

Claire flushed and turned away. All her research had filled her mind with ideas, but clearly it wasn’t her place to start preaching to random people. She also saw that part of her report would need to include ways of getting businesses to buy into her recommendations. Wading in, assuming they knew nothing, was not a good tactic. The need for Stakeholder interviews were starting to make sense.

“What changes would you make to enable the hostel to remain open?” She shone a grin at the man, and saw his frown ease a fraction.

“The place needs refurbishing, for a start. The company is pouring millions into doing up the city centre hostels, but what about here?”

Claire sat back and listened to the man spill out his grievances, wondering if it would be too obvious to make notes. As she listened to him talk, her mind ran through ideas for how the beautiful, remote, hostels could be kept open. In New Zealand, the bus tours took willing tourists to out of the way places, providing guaranteed visitor numbers.

Maybe what the UK needs is a Magic or Kiwi bus equivalent, linking these places together and making it easier for people to travel off the beaten track without a car.

She remembered Josh walking to the hostel with Beth and Chloe in the Lake District, relying on public transport to bring them over from Keswick. Her brain lit up like a beacon as the ideas rushed into her brain. While the manager talked on about all the things that could be done for his hostel, Claire’s mind pulled together a vision of the future that left her skin prickling with excitement.

***

Little Adventures: 2013 365 Challenge #296

Do they do Grown-up ones?

Today we got stuck in to the new normal. It was my first day home with little man by himself and we embraced it. We went swimming, at his request, and discovered the local pool has a parent and toddler session in the morning, complete with toys and singing (and in the warmer training pool too, hurrah!)

Then we went to the supermarket for lunch and shopping, and discovered the existence of super-cool car trollies that made shopping with a three year old boy much more fun. Mummy discovered how much mess a dropped 6 pint bottle of milk makes too! “Clean up at till five please!”

Mummy also found out that little boys who have done ninety minutes of swimming, followed by ninety minutes of shopping, fall asleep on the way home so that Wheels on the Bus can be turned off and Mummy can sit in the driveway reading her book.

It’s kind of weird having to rediscover parenting, having stuck to the tried and tested places to go for the last year or two. I find I’ve lost my nerve for new. Two years ago I took two children swimming by myself when one was just a baby – now I find it hard to take one preschooler who is more than happy in the water! It’s amazing how quickly we can get stuck in a rut and lose our confidence.

But, with an eager and energetic three-year-old to wear out and entertain, I can feel some exploration and adventure coming my way! I’m terrified and excited in equal measure.

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Claire typed some words into the search box and hit return. The library felt cool, despite the sunshine outside, and she wished she’d brought a jacket. Scanning down the list of results, Claire tutted and changed her search parameters. Still nothing.

What did I expect? That the internet would magically produce a report on tourism in the south west? If it was that easy, Conor would have done it himself rather than hiring me.

She sat back in her chair and listened to a mother reading stories to her two children. She admired the way the woman poured her heart and soul into her reading, bringing the characters to life and speaking in different voices.

Dragging her mind away, Claire turned back to the computer, cursing the lack of funds that stopped her replacing her tablet.

At least Conor’s bringing me a laptop.

The thought didn’t make her smile. Conor was also bringing himself; his expectations that she was capable of delivering a report on tourism in less than three months’ time.

What do I know about tourism? I’m amazed I even made it through the interview.

She tried to think back over the weeks to when she’d sat facing the men in suits, and had sold herself and her talents. What had she said that had captured Conor’s enthusiasm and made him move heaven and earth to hire her? The intervening weeks in New Zealand appeared to have leeched all business thoughts from her brain.

At last her random searching came across a website promising to help the tourism industry develop the visitor experience. Flicking through the pages, Claire realised she didn’t even understand the terminology. Phrases like “Primary visitor research” and “In-depth stakeholder interviews” left her none the wiser. In her experience stakeholders were the company directors and clients paying her wages. Who were the stakeholders for tourism?

People like Conor, I guess. Or business owners, people running B&Bs. I don’t know. And how do you interview them all? And what the hell is primary visitor research? Is that what I’m meant to be doing?

Claire rubbed at her temples and let out a sigh. Fighting back tears she, loaded the library catalogue and looked instead for books on the subject. Choosing the most basic looking ones she went off to discover whether they were on the shelves or not.

Damn, it’s like being back at school.

As she wandered around the gallery looking for the books, Claire glanced over at the fiction section below, and thought how nice it was to be back in a library. There had been little reason to visit one, once she had graduated, and she’d forgotten what restful places they were.

The sound of children laughing rose up from the lower floor and Claire smiled. In her student days the noise would have irritated her but it seemed fitting.

It’s nice the kids still come to a library, instead of spending all day on their phones and computers.

Finally locating the section she needed, Claire grabbed a handful of books and went to find a desk. Then she realised she didn’t have so much as a pen or notepad with her, and went back to reception to see if she could borrow something.

Honestly, Claire, you need to get your act together and start taking it all a bit more seriously, or Conor is going to see straight through you.

For some reason making Conor unhappy worried her a lot more than it ever had with Carl. In fact, annoying Carl had become something of a game.

I knew what I was doing then. I don’t want Conor to think I’m an idiot, that’s all.

Trying not to dwell on it, Claire returned to her books and set about learning something about Tourism.

***

The Last Days of Summer: 2013 365 Challenge #280

Crushing apples

Yesterday we had one of those bonus summer days that sneaks out in autumn and takes you by surprise.

After an exhausting six hours with friends at the Farm on Saturday, hubbie and I wanted to curl up with a cuppa and a good book. Unfortunately, such weekend activities are not really open to us any longer.

Instead we went to my parents’ house and I cooked up bacon and pancakes for brunch. Then the men shook apples down from the big tree in the garden that I climbed as a child, and the grandkids collected them all.

Then they assisted Grandpa in his job crushing them to make cider, while Mummy read her book. Bliss. I’m really enjoying my foray back into comfort-reading, and I’m even managing to ignore the typos and excessive use of adverbs!

Some blackberry picking and a game of ping pong in the sunshine later and it was an idyllic day. Back home I let the kids cover the patio in sand-mud pies while I made blackberry and apple crumble and custard. I was asleep on the sofa by 9pm (I’m fighting off a cold) happy in the knowledge that we’d eked the last out of the summer.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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“I do understand, Claire, I really do. But you have to see it from my perspective.”

The tired resignation in Conor’s voice made Claire’s mouth go dry. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair and trying not to yell at her. She gripped the phone tightly and waited for him to tell her she no longer had a job.

With an exhalation of breath, Conor spoke into the silence. “How long do you need?”

Claire felt a flicker of hope. “Psych Liaison says she needs monitoring for several weeks if they’re going to let her go home. If Jeff takes anymore time off he’s going to lose his job.” She tried to keep her voice matter of fact.

“What about your job, Claire? Isn’t that important.”

The hope died with the cut of his voice, and something inside her broke. “You don’t get it,” she burst out. “This is my fault. If I’d been a better friend she wouldn’t be in this mess. I have to fix it.”

Another pause followed her words and she braced herself for the consequences. When he spoke again, however, Conor’s voice sounded speculative.

“Maybe what she needs is a holiday? A road trip round Cornwall with her best friend would do her the world of good, don’t you think?”

His words broke into the fog of Claire’s mind and dispersed it like a ray of sunshine. “The PLAN lady didn’t say anything about her having to stay home in bed. I think they want to see her on a regular basis…”

“Then they can Skype or call her, or she can go to a local hospital. It’s June, Claire. What better way to find a reason to live than visiting the most beautiful places the country has to offer, in the summer? You’ll have to book ahead if there are two of you staying in the hostels, and you should probably take a tent for the nights you can’t get a bed. But it should be fun, yes?”

“Maybe you’re right, “Claire said eventually. “I’ll have a chat with her and Jeff.”

“You do that.” Conor’s voice became business like again. “Don’t take too long, I can only stall for so much time and I’m running out of excuses.”

Claire inhaled, then blurted out ,“Thank you. I do really appreciate what you’ve done for me. I don’t know why but I’m grateful.”

“I’ll tell you why, because you have the skills and experience to get the job done. Don’t let me down.”

Claire swallowed. The curt business tone unnerved her, reminding her that Conor was her employer not a friend.

“I won’t,” she said, before hanging up the phone. She hoped she was right.

***

“Hedgerow” ice cream with apple crumble (smokeandthyme.com)
Apple and Blackberry Crumble (aninexactscience.wordpress.com)
Apple Crumble (ramblingramas.com)
Apple crumble (lifewillfindaway.wordpress.com)

Sofa Saturday: 2013 365 Challenge #272

Sofa Saturday

We let the kids have a sofa Saturday today.

Weekends haven’t figured much in our lives, certainly not for the last year, with hubbie looking for work and the kids only in childcare a couple of times a week. But now my firstborn is at school, Saturday comes back into its own.

I had to write my post (I’ve been struggling with story line recently, and it’s easier to come up with ideas in the morning), so I filled the lounge with cushions and let the kids watch TV while I searched my brain for inspiration.

I’ve noticed that my daughter is taking more time to be by herself since starting school. Not surprising really, as her joint class has over fifty children. For someone who has spent most of her life with just her brother to play with, the volume of kids is completely overwhelming. She starts full time next week and I’m actually thankful the teachers are on strike on Tuesday, just to let her have a day’s breather in what will be a long and tiring week.

We finally coaxed her out of her pyjamas after lunch, and dragged the family to the farm, dog and all. It was a bit of a waste, as she could barely keep her eyes open and little man – who has marched into the tiresome threes with passion – was in full back-chat, pushing the limits mode. We came home and collapsed exhausted. With all the emotional upheaval and sleepless nights of this week, I think we all need to take it easy.

So, an early night for the little ones, a glass of wine and some homemade lasagne for hubbie and I, a decent dose of Strictly Come Dancing, and it’s about the perfect Saturday. Now to go and make some more misery for Claire. Poor lass.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

________________________________________________________________________________

Claire stared into the darkness, aware that her alarm would drag her from sleep in only a few hours. The need to rest pulled at her but her eyes wouldn’t close. The phone on the pillow next to her face remained stubbornly still. She willed it to shine with good news. Or any news. The wait stretched her nerves until she felt she might snap.

Around her, gentle breathing indicated the other sleepers in the room. Claire envied them their peace. The last person had stumbled in an hour before, bumping and bashing the bunks before crawling under the covers and starting to snore. For the first time, Claire found the sound soothing. Normal.

Her heart thudded out time in her chest and she tried to imagine what might be happening around the other side of the world, where the sun was probably high in the sky.

Why hasn’t he sent me a message? Surely he knows something by now.

The thought that he’d arrived too late, and was too distraught to contact her, ran over and over like a stuck record. Claire fought the repetition with words of her own.

She’s not dead. She’s not dead.

At last the phone flashed bright light into the darkness. The hammering in Claire’s chest increased in tempo, booming into the silence. Her hands shook as she reached for the phone and it took a while for her eyes to focus.

We’re in the hospital. She’d taken all her meds, but the docs have sorted it. Hoping she’ll be fine. Thank you, you saved her life. Come see her when you land, I think she needs you. J

Claire slumped back against the pillows and let the adrenalin flow from her limbs into the lumpy mattress. Relief, guilt, exhaustion, swirled around like smoke. With shallow breaths, Claire allowed the news to sink in.

She’s going to be okay. She has to be.

The alarm tore through Claire’s troubled dreams. Vivid images of chasing across an endless field after a fleeting shadow danced infront of her eyes, even as she blinked to ground herself in the present. There was no time to think. The coach was leaving early and she had to be on it.

It should have been an amazing day; the perfect finish to her journey around New Zealand. The coach took them through a pass in the mountains and down into Twizel. Around them the alps stretched magnificent to a clear blue sky, the snow-capped peaks dazzling with their brightness.

Claire felt encased in lead. The beauty couldn’t touch her. Her body still trembled with spent emotion and she had to resist the urge to text Jeff every five minutes for an update. It was night time back home: if he was asleep he deserved the rest.

They arrived at Lake Tekapo and Claire looked across at Mt Cook in the distance. The iconic image of New Zealand was as remote as if she were viewing it from home. The tranquility clashed with Claire’s urgency to be moving. The coach was too slow, the passengers too relaxed – spending just another five minutes soaking in the view, just another five minutes finishing their lunch, taking one last photograph.

Come on, come on! I’ve got a plane to catch.

Wishing she’d found the extra money to take an Intercity coach, Claire made sure she was always first on the bus, hoping her punctuality would ensure their timely departure.

They drove into Christchurch after the sun had set. Claire couldn’t bring herself to check the time. She already knew she was cutting it dangerously close, getting to the airport in time for check in.

Staring at Christchurch out the window, part of Claire’s brain regretted not having time to explore the garden city. From what she could see, it was very like Cambridge, with the canals and the punts, all tied up waiting for the morning.

With any luck I’ll be in the real Cambridge the day after tomorrow. That’s what’s important.

Claire wrapped her hand around the strap of her rucksack, already on the seat next to her ready for her to dash from the coach as soon as it stopped. The coach seemed to be barely moving, stuck in the city traffic.

The knots tightened in Claire’s stomach as she tried not to contemplate what horrors awaited her if she missed her flight.

***

The Longest Day: 2013 365 Challenge #264

Say Cheese!

Today feels like it’s gone on forever. Uploading photos for the post, I saw a picture of the kids eating ice cream in the coffee shop and was shocked when I remembered that was lunchtime today. Daughter went to school for three hours this morning, and hubbie took son shopping for pyjamas, while I painted a shark (photo tomorrow) and wrote my post.

After school (only a morning session) we had lunch at the coffee shop (because Mummy has forgotten to buy food this week), home for quiet time, and then I took son to the Farm so Daddy and daughter could clean the house, ready for the birthday party tomorrow. There is still a lot to do.

It doesn’t help that I seem to be in a low point at the moment, and have been randomly sobbing for most of the day over trivial things, like not having any reviews on my book yet, despite asking friends who have read it to please at least give a star rating on Goodreads. I know reviews are as much a curse as a blessing, but for me a book doesn’t feel published until it’s had a review.

Enjoying the sun

Then, of course, there are the dismal download numbers for my Dragon Wraiths free promo. I didn’t push it much, because I had other things to do today, but it’s still disappointing when you can’t even give your book away! Thankfully that’s the last free promo I need to worry about, as DW comes out of KDP Select next week, hurrah.

It’s frustrating the random things that seem to crash my brain when I’m already struggling. Stupid things, like worrying that the boys won’t like having pizza and chips for lunch at the party tomorrow, or the mummies will frown at its unhealthiness.

Or reading a blog post this morning about judgmental mummies and realising I can be a bit quick to judge by appearances, despite knowing how stupid that is.

All in all I probably feel about as good now as I did three years ago, when I sat eating fish and chips with my toddler, while hubbie was away in London on a work’s outing to a Dara O’Brien gig, and my waters broke – five weeks early.

Sand shark, sand boat

My mum had to leave behind her half-cooked dinner and take me to hospital nearly an hour away – a hospital I hadn’t even visited, because my tour was scheduled for the following week.

I went in with a book to read and some clean pants, expecting to be there a few hours as was the case when my waters broke early with my first child, and I came home ten days later.

It’s the most surreal time of my life and quite possibly the start of my postnatal depression. There’s nothing like sending a control freak to hospital five weeks early and trapping her there to start a downward spiral.

Anyway, it’s been a long tough rewarding love-filled sleep-deprived three years, but I survived and I have a gorgeous boy to make it worth every moment of pain (as well as a beautiful daughter who is the best big sister in the world). Happy birthday little man.

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Claire waved at the minibus and it pulled up beside her. A tanned man in his thirties beamed at her through the window, before jumping down and opening the door for her to get in.

“G’day, you must be Claire. Welcome to the tour.” He checked her name off against a clipboard, then ran back round the bus.

With a quick glance at the other passengers, Claire found a free seat and gazed out the window. There were only five or six people on the bus and she wondered if there were more people to collect. Her question was soon answered as the driver turned round to address the group.

“It’s just us today, folks, so should be a lovely quiet trip out to the peninsular. None of you are booked on the Albatross Experience, so we’ll spend a short time up at Taiaroa Head and see if we can spot some flying in. It’s the only mainland albatross colony in the world. Then we’ll head out to the beach and see the rest of the wildlife. Any questions just holler and I’ll try and answer them.”

As the bus pulled away, Claire revelled in the silence of a small group. It felt strange to be in a vehicle smaller than a coach, but it was great to be able to see the streets around her as they left the city.

Albatross at Taiaroa Head

Before long they were driving round a bay, heading for the Otago peninsular. The road hugged the coast as they made their way to the albatross centre. Overhead, blue sky blazed in between the pure white clouds scudding past.

At last the minibus climbed up a winding lane and arrived outside a long low building. The wind hit them like a wall as they headed for the bluff. Claire tugged her jacket closer and bent her head into the wind.

“Good weather for flying,” the driver yelled over the noise. “They need good lift to keep them airborne; they’re big birds. Keep yer eyes peeled.”

Claire gazed up at the sky, blinking away the tears dragged out by the wind. She wasn’t so sure she was bothered about seeing a giant seagull and wondered if the centre sold coffee. Tucking her hands under her arms to keep them warm, she stamped her feet and looked about to see what the other passengers were doing. She didn’t want to go inside and get left behind.

One of the couples were shouting at each other and pointing at the sky. Claire thought they were fighting, then realised they had seen something. Following the direction of their gesturing, she saw an enormous bird circling low before disappearing behind the building.

“Wow!” Even though she knew that albatrosses were big birds, nothing had prepared her for just how large.

“Keep watching. It’ll come back out shortly.”

Claire kept her eyes trained on the sky, while reaching for her phone to take a picture. As predicted, the bird re-emerged and Claire grabbed some shots, sure the bird would only be a tiny speck when she looked at the images later.

Buoyed by the experience, the passengers chatted together as they headed back to the bus. Claire wasn’t sure if the couples all knew each other, or were just being friendly. She didn’t feel like talking, so she hung at the back near the driver.

“Right, next stop sea lions. We’ll drive through the wetlands so you can see the sea birds and waders, but it’ll be good to get down to the beach fairly early, the weather often shifts later in the afternoon.”

Claire let the driver’s words wash over her, glad for once to follow along like a sheep. Despite the cost of the tour, this was the real New Zealand and she was happy to enjoy every minute.

The next hour passed in a blur of bird names and beautiful scenery. Claire realised how little she actually knew about any sort of wildlife, as the other passengers discussed this and that type of bird. She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally pulled up at the sea lion beach. This was what she had come for.

Hooker sea lions

“Right. Just some rules before we reach the beach. These fellas are huge, but they won’t attack unless provoked. Don’t get between a sea lion and the sea and, whatever you do, don’t turn your back on them. If need be, run.”

Claire laughed, sure the driver was joking. He raised an eyebrow at her, and chuckled.

“We had an American tourist chased off the beach only last week. They move pretty fast for big creatures.” Seeing her grin, he added, “The sea lions. I couldn’t comment on the gentleman.”

The walk down to the beach tested Claire’s balance, and she tried not to think about how hard it was going to be to walk back up. Her muscles were already sore from the climb up Baldwin Street.

All this tour bus travelling is making me soft.

Suddenly a roar cut through the silence and Claire felt goosebumps rise on her arms beneath her jacket.

“Sounds like some of the young males are getting boisterous.” The driver’s voice came up the hill to Claire. “Should be good viewing.”

As they reached the beach Claire understood what he meant. Out in the middle of the sand, three or four giant beasts roared at each other, heads swaying, mouths wide. Claire shivered and turned her attention to the driver, determined to walk exactly where he did across the sand.

They made their way around behind the creatures, stopping at a hide to take some photographs. Then they were taken up to a grass covered sand dune, all of them following the guide into a wooden hut.

Penguins coming in at dusk

“It’s nearly time for the penguins to come in from the sea. As the sun goes down, they’ll come up the beach in groups; keeping a watch for the sea lions who might be after a tasty evening snack.”

Claire hunkered down to watch, ignoring the quiet chatter of the couples behind her. It was a magical place. She’d never seen such animals in the wild before. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been to a zoo.

Watching the little penguins run in from the sea and make their way up the grassy hillside, Claire was conscious of a deep warmth within her chest. All the years she’d spent inside an office, surrounded by glass and steel, wires and technology, made no sense to her anymore. Here, shivering in a hut on a hillside, watching yellow eyed penguins scurry and scamper for their homes up impossibly steep terrain, seemed more real than anything in her own life.

She had no idea what the future held, but she was certain it wasn’t going to be in a concrete cage.

***

Different Types Of Mummy (youbabymemummy.com)
End of Summer (peoniesandpolkadots.com)

Being a Grown-Up: 2013 365 Challenge #248

Breakfast out with Mummy

Today was one of those days when I forgot that I’m the grown up.

I had my daughter home alone all day for the first time since my son was six months old (I think, maybe apart from illness).

Even though we had a day full of activities – shopping for school stuff, doing craft, going to the park – it was not a great day. I’m so used to having both children together that I’d forgotten how much more time consuming it is just having one. You can’t send them out to play or sit them in front of the TV. I haven’t had to do nine hours of continuous childcare since the youngest was a year old and able to keep up with his sister.

Staying up late to finish my blog last night didn’t prepare me well for the day. I lay awake with W8-BEN forms and proofreading queries floating through my head and didn’t drop off until 3am.

Followed by cake

My son woke around 5.30am, crying and calling, “Mummy, why did the man take the flowers?” I went in and answered (as only a mother can, I guess), “Because he wanted them for Aunt Polly” (it was from a TV show we watched earlier in the day.) So that was my chance of four continuous hours of sleep gone.

I did try to be a good parent. I barely opened my ipad, except to take photographs and have a cheeky check on my email. I only did twenty minutes of’ proofreading, and shut my laptop when my daughter asked for a cuddle because she missed her brother.

I took another twenty minutes to Vax the playroom, where the dog was sick overnight, and even that had her whining. I tried so hard, but she missed her brother and she was just plain horrid for much of the day. And, on three hours’ sleep, I’m ashamed to say I took it personally. By the time we picked my son up at 5.30pm I was ready to drop them both home and keep driving.

Then, of course, they squabbled non-stop from the moment we all got in: mostly about who would get to sit in the corner of the sofa (their latest battle ground. Give me strength.)

Craft picture ‘for her teachers’

When you’ve missed someone all day it’s natural to pick a fight with them: I do it with my hubbie all the time. But I didn’t have any patience left for the noise. Hubbie was off talking to some person about cars, I hadn’t had three minutes to even empty the dishwasher.

I confess, I yelled. I went and hid in the playhouse. I would have driven away, if I’d had the energy to open the gates to get the car out. I’m not proud, but there you go.

Then, as I put our son to bed (after they’d squabbled over who was going to take them to bed: even though I ALWAYS take our son) I heard my daughter sobbing hysterically downstairs. I admit it only irritated me. I’d given her everything I had and it wasn’t enough. Instead she spent the day being bossy and rude and ungrateful. I’d tried to ask my Mum and my hubbie for help and both had ignored my plea. I’d had enough.

A pipe cleaner swing and person

When I got downstairs, hubbie explained that our daughter is scared about starting school. The wait is making her crazy (she doesn’t even start until next Monday, and then it’ll be three weeks before she’s full time). Being home alone today had driven it home that things were changing, and she wanted to just get on with it and get the wait over with.

I felt awful.

The signs had been there during the day – talking about making gifts for her preschool teachers, her new teachers, wanting her school bag and everything ready. She’d been worried and I hadn’t noticed. I was so wrapped up in my own sleep-deprived misery.

So, with hubbie mediation, we talked. I showed her the list of questions I’ve been compiling for her teacher’s home visit on Friday. I said that she wouldn’t be the only one who didn’t know everything and not to worry.

I tried to be the grown up. It was a bit late, I think. I should have been that person all day. I remember times, as a child, when Mum would hide in the tree house with a drink. I never understood it. Today I understood. Sometimes you don’t want to be the grown-up, especially when you have to be. Mum was a single parent at that time: what excuse do I have?

Tomorrow, I will try to be a grown-up. Today, I’m going to have a glass of wine, think of something for Claire to do, and go to bed.

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After hours spent worrying that Josh would somehow arrange for them to share a double room, Claire’s relief at being placed in a dorm was short-lived.

I might as well have shared with Josh; he can practically hug me from his bed anyway.

The room was tiny. With eight people and their luggage crammed in, it felt like a train carriage rather than a bedroom. Considering how expensive it was for the dorm, not to mention the deposit for the cutlery, Claire wasn’t impressed.

I thought it’d be cheaper to travel here than at home, given the high volume of traffic coming through some of these places. And who ever heard of paying a deposit to use a fork? Barmy.

Not wanting to spoil her trip by worrying about money, Claire dropped her rucksack on the bed and followed Bethan, Josh and the other people from the bus, out of the room.

Claire could see the beach as they left the hostel. Fine golden sand and clear blue water stretched away from her. She could imagine running straight into the sea in summer. Now, with an autumnal nip in the air, she was content to dig her toes in the sand and soak in the beauty.

She sensed Josh shadowing her steps, as she walked beside Bethan and chatted about the accommodation and where to go for dinner. Bethan kept glancing behind her, a frown on her flawless face.

“So, what is it with you and the moody doctor?”

Bethan lowered her voice but Claire still blushed, worried Josh could hear.

Speeding up to open the gap between them and Josh, Claire leant in close to Bethan and said, as nonchalantly as she could, “He’s just someone I met while travelling in the UK. We shared a ride for a couple of weeks. He lives in Oz and popped over to say hi.”

“Claire, no one flies from Australia to New Zealand to say hi. That’s what phones are for. They certainly don’t hop on the bus with you or follow you round like a lost puppy.”

Bethan’s words caused bile to rise in Claire’s throat.

“It’s complicated.”

The girl snorted in response. “That’s not an answer, that’s a Facebook relationship status. Are you shagging him, or what? And if not, can I?” Her deep, throaty, laugh rolled around the half-empty beach.

“Bethan! Hush, he’ll hear you.” Claire prayed for the sand to open before her and swallow her up.

“So what? He’s delish. Come on, spill the beans.”

“He’s married.” Claire’s voice dropped like water on a fire. If she expected her words to dampen Bethan’s enthusiasm, she hadn’t counted on the girl’s tenacity.

“And? If he was happily married he wouldn’t be here. Has he ditched the wife? Are you the replacement? You must have made a hell of an impression on him in a short time.”

Claire looked round to make sure Josh wasn’t hanging on every word. She could see him further up the beach, in a circle with some lads from the bus. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned and waved when he saw her watching. She quickly turned away.

“Honestly? I have no idea what’s going on. I won’t deny that I fancied him when we travelled together, but I didn’t know he was married then. Now I’ve met his wife, and his three kids, and being a home breaker isn’t my style.”

“So, what are you going to do? He’s clearly crazy about you and, I have to say, you talk a good talk but I’m not buying it.”

Claire looked across at her friend, trying to read the meaning in her dark eyes.

What is it about travelling that makes you confide in complete strangers? Is it that there’s no one else, or that you’re all in it together. Maybe just the fact that you’re unlikely to ever see them again. Not that that’s worked for me. I’ve bumped into Maggie, Josh and even Bethan more than once.

Claire kicked her feet in the surf and sighed. “What a mess.”

“Why not just bed him and move on? If he’s serious about leaving the wife, there’s nothing you can do about it. If he isn’t, then sleeping with you will bring him to his senses.”

The blunt practicality of the girl’s tone made Claire shrivel. Despite her near miss with the Scotsman, she wasn’t in the habit of bed hopping. And, underneath his current puppy dog behaviour, Josh was still a good friend. She didn’t want to risk that by giving in to his lures. And yet, deep in her gut, she yearned to surrender.

With another gusty sigh she shook her head. “We’ll see,”

For some reason it made Bethan giggle all the way back to the hostel.

***

A New Day Out: 2013 365 Challenge #245

My NZ Skydive

We went on a new day out with the children today. We didn’t mean to be out all day, but sometimes these things sneak up. My cousin was booked in to tandem skydive at the local airfield and we went up to watch him jump. Last year we arrived just as he was landing so we went a little early, took some snacks, and got there before they did.

Unfortunately it turned out he wasn’t booked in, so we ended up waiting for three hours and leaving before his group were called, when the children started to flag. We’re wind burnt and exhausted, but it was a great day out.

There was so much going on. Not just the parachute flights but other small aircraft taking off and landing, people coming and going. Our kids played with their big second (third?) cousins, and some other children also waiting. We had snacks and burgers, coffee and ice cream and caught up with family we usually only see at weddings and funerals.

At the airfield

I also got to tell the children that Mummy did that once, Mummy jumped out of a plane at 15,000 feet. (It’s the only thing I’ve done that hubbie hasn’t). My second cousins were impressed, probably because I don’t look like someone who would throw themselves out of a perfectly good airplane. I wouldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t have done it then except they wouldn’t let me stay on board. Apparently it’s not safe landing the plane with people in (or that’s what they said. Thinking about it that’s probably rubbish!)

So it’s been an amazing day. Shame about the windburn and the exhaustion (not that the children are tired. They’re never tired!). What is it about wind that is so tiring? Maybe it’s dehydration. I’m definitely filing it away in my writer’s mental notebook for future reference.

And the airfield is a great place to take the children for an inexpensive day out. There was even a replica spitfire in the hangar as we walked up to the viewing area. Fantastic.

________________________________________________________________________________

Claire inhaled the muggy scent of damp track and bushland and sighed.

This is what’s amazing about this country. You couldn’t wander through London and stumble across a bushland walk up a steep hillside.

If she closed her eyes, it was easy to imagine she was back in the Tongariro reserve, or up near Cape Reinga ready to hug the trees, rather than in the country’s capital city.

She could hear Josh’s steady breathing beside her. That was the difference. In the Tongariro Park the closest she had come to companionship was dodging Neal’s strange attempts at seduction. Having Josh alongside her was like pulling on her favourite sweater to stave off a chilly evening. Except it wasn’t so comfortable any more.

Claire thought through the new awkwardness of their relationship, as she kept pace with Josh’s long strides and tried not to pant with exertion.

What’s changed from when we travelled together? We weren’t involved, apart from that near kiss at the beginning. It didn’t matter that he had a wife and kids. But only because I didn’t know about them, I suppose. Would I have been happy sharing a bunk-bed with him if I’d known he was married?

Looking back on their time at the Hartington hostel, and the day trip in Cambridge, Claire remembered how altered Josh had been. When Fiona had been unknown, when she hadn’t met Lucas, Sophie and Lily, Josh had been hers. There were no complications, no guilt, no subtext. She hadn’t even worried that much whether she fancied him or not. All the Michael stuff had been too raw for her to want to dive headlong into something new.

Now that was old news it seemed she was a dog on heat. Because there was no doubt she ached to hold him. Every time his skin brushed against hers she felt on fire. Her senses zinged as if she’d been fed coffee on an intravenous drip since breakfast.

She kept glancing at him, trying to see if he felt the spark between them. If she caught his eye he just smiled or ran a little way, taunting her for her inability to keep up. On the surface he was the Josh of old. But now and then, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she knew he watched her. And of course there was the email. They hadn’t talked about that. Thanks to the strenuous walk they hadn’t talked about anything much.

That’s probably a good thing. It’s lovely to see him, but it will be better for all of us when he flies back to his wife and I finally get both feet on the south island.

After what felt like hours, they crested the hill and left the bush behind. Claire gasped at the unexpected view. All around and beneath her, Wellington sprawled out to the horizon. She groaned as Josh pointed to the steps leading up to the top of the lookout.

“No more climbing. My legs are on strike.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” Josh’s voice was playful but Claire gave a little shiver.

“It’s fine. I’ll walk. You may have to roll me back down the hill to the hotel though.”

Before he could say anything she strode past him, taking the stairs two at a time. She reached the top first and had a moment to catch her breath before he was once more standing too close for comfort.

“Told you it would be worth it.” Josh said, once he was breathing normally.

Claire turned, confused at his words, and realised he was talking about the view. “Yes. It’s nothing like Auckland, is it?”

“No. This is more the real New Zealand, I think. Look, there’s the airstrip.” Josh pointed at a ribbon of green stretching out into the ocean.

“Bugger that. Now I’m definitely taking the ferry south.”

There was a pause, and she realised it was the first time either of them had spoken of the future. She wondered if Josh would take the chance to explain why he had come. He leant his arms on the railing and looked around at the panoramic view. Claire sensed the tension in his shoulders, but didn’t have the words to break the silence. Instead she gazed at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the harbour beneath her where the high-rise buildings were dwarfed by the surrounding hills. On the other side she could see a large circle of green that she decided must be a cricket pitch. And running through the buildings all the way to the horizon were thick bands of native bush.

What an amazing city.

“Claire, I …”

Josh’s voice cut through her reverie and made her hands tremble. There was so much loaded into two words. She turned to face him, studying his profile as he continued to gaze into the distance.

“I needed to see you. The truth is I’m–”

“Claire!”

A voice cut through Josh’s words and Claire bit back a curse. With a deep sigh she turned and forced a smile onto her face.

“Bethan, hello.”

The girl rushed over, leaving behind a group of people Claire vaguely recognised from the ferry. Bethan’s ability to make friends astounded her.

“You didn’t get the ferry then? I thought you might, as it’s such a gorgeous day.” Then, sensing she was interrupting, Bethan looked towards Josh in confusion. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“No, it’s fine. Bethan this is Josh, Josh, Bethan. We were on the ferry together yesterday.”

Josh pushed away from the railing and turned to face the newcomer, shielding his eyes against the sun. He turned on his brightest smile and chatted to Bethan as if they were old friends.

Claire watched the mask slide back in place across his face and felt a heavy lump drop into her stomach. Whatever he had been about to say, the moment had passed. Following Josh and Bethan as they walked towards the other group, Claire wondered if she felt disappointed or relieved.