2. Blue Eyes, Brown Hair
I should have brought my flip-flops. The water on the floor in the changing area of the shower is disgusting with yellow soapy foam. There’s no room for me to sit on the small bench to dry my feet as it’s occupied by the washbag, towels, clothes and Adam. Who can’t stand still. Which makes it difficult for me to keep my balance as I try to dry my feet and get dressed without stepping or dropping anything into the frothy water.
“Can we say hi to the cows before we go to the beach?” Adam asks and leans onto me while rubbing his shin.
“As long as they’re still on the field behind our tent, then yes.”
“Why would they not be on field?”
“They may have moved a bit to get the greenest grass.”
“Or maybe they are milked.”
“Yes, maybe they are inside being milked.”
“I like milk.”
We continue chatting cows until I lift him onto my hip, holding him with one arm, and try to fit all our stuff in the other arm. I need one of those big cloth bags that all mums seem to have. That Alison has several of, but I never considered packing in my boxes. I unlock the door. My towel slips out of my grasp and drops onto the wet floor. I grind my teeth to stop the expletives spilling from my mouth. Awkwardly, I try to bend and pick it up without dropping more stuff or Adam.
“I’ll help you.”
My gaze flicks to where the voice came from and crash with bright blue eyes.
“Hi, Julie.”
“Hi, Julie,” Adam whispers.
Her smile could thaw the hardest of ice.
“Is this one free?”
I bring my gaze from the pretty young woman kneeling in front of me to the forty-something woman behind her.
“Yes, sorry.”
I shuffle sideways to stop blocking the door and Julie quicky picks up my towel.
“Christ, this floor is disgusting!” The older woman’s face, that has seen a bit too much fake tan, is scrunched up.
Julie pales and stutters, “Apologies, we are going to add raised mats to stand on, but we haven’t got hold of any yet.”
“Well maybe you should focus on that instead of faffing about?”
The shower door slams shut.
Julie bites her lip, her gaze to the ground. I nudge her. “Let’s go.”
She takes a deep breath when we’re outside. “I’ll help you carry this up to your tent,” she offers.
“Thank you.” After a few steps I add, “It’s a hard job facing customers.”
“I guess.” She swallows and nods, and all I want to do is wrap her up in my arms. I was always a carer, and this young woman walking next to me up the field seems to need someone looking after her.
“You have to brush the woman’s comment off and raise your chin.”
“Dad, can I go on the swing?” Adam interrupts, having had enough of our slow walk. He wiggles free, causing more items to drop from my arms. Julie helps me pick the stuff up from the grass, before we continue up the path to the tent, my eyes drifting to Adam every few steps.
“Truth is, I don’t even know if the shower mats have been ordered. There’s just so much to do and there’s only Trevor and me.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Yeah… Both Mum and Dad, um…” She clears her throat. “Mum died of lung cancer a few years ago and Dad died spring of last year.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The need to hold her is increasing, and not in a sexual way.
“So… um… Adam’s mama?”
I suck in a breath. It hasn’t got any easier to say, but I force the words past my lips. “I’m divorced.”
It’s a lie. We’re only separated. The divorce process is long and it’s only been five months since I moved out. But to both me and Alison, it’s final, so why use a temporary word when there’s no going back?
“Okay.” Julie’s shoulders straighten and she glances up at me. “Does Adam live with you or…?”
“He lives with Alison. I get him every second weekend. And on holidays.” Pain sears through me, and I instinctively search for his tiny body swishing through the air on the swing. I hate being away from my son. The weeks I don’t see him are torturous and lonely.
“You’re a good bit younger than your brother, aren’t you?” I say, desperate to change the topic.
“Oh, um yes, there’s ten years between us. I’m eighteen.”
“Eighteen?” She proves that she is just that with the giggle that flows in the air. That makes Trevor twenty-eight – two years younger than me. I force away the thought of her hulk of a brother. “Do you have a boyfriend, Julie?”
She looks down and tucks a dark lock of her hair behind her ear. “No,” she huffs.
“Why not? Pretty girl like you?” I nudge her with my elbow and a sweet blush covers her cheeks while she rolls her eyes.
“Boys my age are immature jerks.”
I bark out a laugh. That they are. “Are you still in school?”
“I’m starting at Queen’s in the autumn, media and marketing studies.” She beams.
“Really!”
“Yes, I feel bad about it though, leaving Trevor for Belfast.” The smile falls from her face. “But he insists that I go, follow my dream and not be bogged down with the farm. That’s why we opened the campsite, hoping it would generate enough money for him to hire someone part-time.”
“I see.” I wonder how that is working out for them. At twenty pounds a night for the sites with electric hook-up, you’d need a lot of tents to generate enough money to hire someone. I don’t say that, of course. “So you’ll be down in Belfast. On your own?”
“Julie!”
Julie sucks in a breath of air and takes a step away from me.
“Trevor, you shouldn’t sneak up on people like this,” she barks at her brother.
Where the hell did he appear from? And someone should tell him to increase his t-shirt size. XL is clearly too small.
“If you paid attention, you’d know there’s a car outside the reception.”
“Oh, shoot…” My gaze flicks from Trevor’s bulging muscles as Julie dumps my stuff in my arms. “I’ll see you later, Jamie.”
“Um, uh, that you will.”
I chuckle quietly as I follow her with my eyes down the field, running as fast as she can in her wellies, arms flailing, while bellowing, “Bye, Adam!”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
I turn to her brother. “What?”
“I’d rather you didn’t see her soon.” Trevor’s mouth twists.
Heat is forming in behind my abs.
“What’s your problem?”
“You are my problem.”
“I’m a paying guest at your campsite,” I hiss, refusing to be intimidated by his large frame.
“And Julie is a girl, she doesn’t need someone like you to—” He clamps his lips shut.
I know he’s right, but it irks me that he’s on my case. “To what?”
“To prey on her.” He huffs. His gaze roams over the campsite before it slams back into me, searing blue eyes that almost knock the air out of me. “Does it normally work for you?”
“What?”
“Using your son to catch females?”
I see red. “I do not use my son,” I snarl.
“I’ve said it once and I’ll only say it one more time – stay away from my sister.”