Chapter 41
Within moments their bags and clothes are soaked through. The rain is nothing like London rain. It blasts in from the sea on a strong wind, hammering the ground and making the bay disappear behind a grey haze.
‘Shit!’
‘Grab a tent pole!’
‘Which one?’
‘Any one!’
They scrabble about, still in their soaked underwear, pulling at poles and pegs.
‘Don’t let go!’ shrieks Tilly as the tent’s outer fabric flaps wildly like a sail.
‘I can’t see!’ says Rachel, wiping her eyes as the rain blasts their faces.
Eventually, they manage to construct something that resembles a tent but before they can peg it down it blows away down the beach, rolling about like an oversized can tumbling down a hill.
‘Quick! Before it goes in the sea!’
Tilly runs barefoot across the pebbles, wincing as shells and rocks press sharply into her soles.
Then Rachel takes a leap and manages to grab hold of one side of the tent, Tilly taking the other.
Battling against the wind, they tug it back to the pitch near their bags and Rachel holds on with her entire body as Tilly unwinds the ropes and hammers the pegs into the ground using a large rock.
Once it’s secure she unzips the opening and starts throwing bags inside.
‘There’s a tent pole left over! Why is there a tent pole left over?’
‘It doesn’t matter, just get inside!’
They shove the rest of their things through the door, leaving the bikes abandoned on the beach, then crawl in after their belongings, zipping the door closed.
Inside, the rain sounds even louder, hammering on the fabric as the wind blowing in from the sea makes the whole frame shake.
There’s a distinctive smell that Tilly realizes is probably coming from them.
They’ve both removed the worst of their damp clothes, goosepimply flesh on show as they shiver and reach for extra layers, checking each item to see if it’s managed to escape getting wet.
‘I’m bloody freezing. Who thought that swimming was a good idea?’ Rachel groans as she reaches for her sleeping bag.
‘Ugh, it’s wet!’ Tilly cries as she grabs her own sleeping bag.
But they crawl inside anyway, putting the hoods up and tightening the drawstrings so they resemble a pair of shivering caterpillars. The rain doesn’t sound as if it is easing; if anything, it crashes even louder, making the whole tent shake.
‘We should eat something, maybe it will help us warm up.’
‘Good idea. I’m starving. Lunch seems like it was days ago.’
Tilly reaches for the gas stove and cooking equipment … then stops.
‘Shit.’
‘What is it?’
She gestures at the roof. ‘It’s raining. We can’t cook outside. And I don’t really feel comfortable cooking over an open flame in here, not when it’s so cramped.’
‘Well, we have to eat something.’
Tilly digs around in the food bag, pulling out a couple of cereal bars. They crunch through them in silence.
‘That didn’t touch the sides. What else have we got?’
It’s Rachel who reaches into the bag this time, pulling out the plastic pots they bought for their meals.
‘Which would you prefer, cold porridge or cold Pot Noodle?’
‘I really don’t want to eat cold Pot Noodle.’
‘Porridge it is, then. Pass me the water.’
Rachel opens the two porridge pots, fills them up with water and stirs. The oats float limply on the surface alongside flecks of milk powder and red bits that may in another life have resembled dried fruit.
‘Apparently, it’s summer berries flavour,’ Rachel says as she passes a pot to Tilly. Rachel takes a mouthful of hers, grimacing. ‘It’s not … so bad …’ It takes her a long time to swallow.
Tilly takes a spoonful, cold, wet oats clogging her mouth.
‘I’m not getting summer berries. I taste desperation.’
Rachel drops her porridge pot down on the ground, lifting her knees up to her chest and rocking back and forth. ‘ARGH! I HATE CAMPING! This is bloody awful!’
‘I thought you didn’t mind camping! You said it would be an adventure.’
‘I was lying. Who actually likes camping? Bloody sadists, that’s who. No offence to Joe.’
‘Then why did you offer to come with me?’
Rachel stops rocking.
‘It seemed important to you. I worried you might regret it if you didn’t go.’
‘I could have gone on my own. You didn’t have to come with me.’
‘And now I’m seriously questioning my choices,’ Rachel replies, teeth chattering.
Tilly is shivering and damp and her mouth tastes of cold oats. Something inside her snaps.
‘So why did you, Rachel?’ Tilly shouts. ‘I didn’t force you! Why did you want to come with me if you hate camping so bloody much?’
‘Why do you think?’ Rachel shouts back. ‘The same reason I wanted to take the Esmerelda Love job. Because I wanted to spend time with you! Because I wanted to make up for –’
‘For the fact that when Joe got sick you completely disappeared?’
They stare at each other across the tent. Tilly can’t quite believe she’s actually said it. Their faces are both flushed from the cold, hair bedraggled and wet.
Rachel dips her head, fiddling with the zip on her sleeping bag.
‘I was shit, I know.’
Tilly freezes, her head snapping around to look at Rachel, cowering in her sleeping bag, chin tilted.
After so long tiptoeing around the issue Tilly wasn’t expecting to actually have this conversation.
But their problems now feel impossible to ignore, sat brooding like a third person in the confines of the tent.
‘What happened, Rachel?’
Rachel lets out a breath and her voice is softer when she replies. ‘I don’t think I ever told you that my dad died when I was a teenager.’
The words hit Tilly hard in the chest.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’
Rachel shrugs. ‘How could you have? I didn’t tell you.’
‘But I could have asked. You always talked about your mum and stepdad, so I just assumed you weren’t close with your biological dad.’
‘We were close. He was my favourite person. But he died when I was nineteen. From pancreatic cancer.’
‘Shit.’
A silence hangs between them for a moment, broken only by the rain on the tent roof.
‘So when Joe got his diagnosis, I knew what was ahead for you both and I just didn’t know how to be around you, knowing what I knew.
It was like I could see you were heading for this awful car crash and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
But the one thing I could do was not be there to see it happen. ’
Things shift around inside Tilly’s brain, new understanding blooming like a light being switched on in a darkened room.
‘Rachel … I’m sorry. If I’d known –’
‘Then you would have been sensitive about it, I know you would have been. But I never told you. And even if I had, it doesn’t make how I acted any better. Regardless of my own shit, I should have been there for you. I’m so sorry, Tilly. I wish I could have been a better friend.’
Tilly’s grief has always felt so earth-shattering, so new.
And yet looking at Rachel she realizes that all around her there are people carrying their own losses, their own scars, even if you can’t always see them.
She thinks of the Paris Grief Gang and her conversations with Alfie, and of everything Rachel has just told her.
‘You’re here now. In this soggy tent in the rain with me. I think that makes you a pretty great friend.’
She reaches across and pulls Rachel into a damp but tight hug, aware of how bad they both smell but just going with it.
Rachel’s chin is still resting on Tilly’s shoulder when she lets out a groan. ‘Oh no.’
‘What is it?’
Rachel tilts her head, looking up at the roof of the tent that still shudders with the force of the rain.
‘I need a wee.’
Alfie:
Good morning. How’s camping going? Hope you managed with the tent OK. x
Tilly:
Alfie, camping is awful.
Alfie:
***
Tilly:
We’ve had so much rain. And wind. EVERYTHING I own is wet.
Alfie:
Oh no! Are you OK?? x
Tilly:
I’m alive.
Alfie:
That bad then? I’m sorry, I feel like I did the hard sell on camping.
Tilly:
There have been some good moments. We’ve seen some amazing wildlife and it’s incredibly beautiful here. But I’ll be glad to get back to somewhere that is DRY.
Alfie:
When do you get back?
Tilly:
Rachel is heading off tomorrow afternoon to meet family. I’m on a flight that gets me back to Stansted around six. I’m going to look a right state on the Tube, covered in mud and smelling like a bog.
Alfie:
I’ve smelt worse things on the Underground.
Tilly:
Ha! That’s a point. I’m afraid your camping gear might not be in the best state when I get it back, I’m sorry.
Alfie:
That’s OK, it doesn’t matter. As long as you’re OK.
Tilly:
I’m OK. Might be getting gangrene. But I’m OK.
Alfie:
You did it though. You wild camped!
Tilly:
I did!
Alfie:
Joe would be proud of you x
Tilly:
Thanks. I’m actually proud of me too. See you when I’m back x
Behind the counter at Book Lane Alfie types another message.
Alfie:
Looking forward to it x.
But then he deletes it, instead starting a new message.
Alfie:
Hi Mum, do you think I might be able to borrow your car tomorrow?