Page 15 of Jenny James Is Not a Disaster
“I was just burning some food,” he says, gesturing at the barbecue with his tongs. “Can I tempt you to join me?”
“Yes!” says Charlie, before I can even consider replying. Charlie is hungry—what a surprise. He pulls a face at me and takes off with Betty, the two of them chasing each other around the grass. It’s wonderful to watch, and I love the way one small dog has turned him back into a child.
“Only if it’s no bother,” I add. “I’m assuming you weren’t expecting guests, and it’s no problem if you only have enough food to burn for one.”
“Nah, it’s fine—I was out hunting this morning.”
“Right. The wild savanna or the supermarket?”
“That farm shop on the main road. I am fully stocked on burgers, steak, and salmon fillets. Watch this, and I’ll get you a chair.”
He passes me the tongs and disappears off inside the van. I make an exploratory poke at the cooking meat and see that he was lying. He isn’t burning it—in fact, it’s a nice-looking piece of steak that has obviously been marinated in something extremely tasty. Bit of a sneaky gourmet barbecue vibe going on. I find my mouth watering and realize that I am doing a Charlie.
Luke emerges with a fold-out chair and sets it up for me next to his.
“I only have one spare,” he says apologetically. “Don’t often have visitors. Beer?”
“The answer to that is always yes.”
He grins and pulls a can from a mini-fridge he has tucked away by the steps. He adds a couple of burgers and some salmon to the barbecue and sits down next to me.
“How does this thing work?” I ask, frowning.
“Ah. Good question. Well, there’s this little gadget on the top called a ring pull, and if you tug it, an opening appears. Then you put the can to your lips and drink it. Does that help?”
“Ha-ha, very funny. I meant the motorhome, van, whatever you call it—do you have electricity? And, like, a toilet?”
“I do have a toilet, and you are more than welcome to avail yourself of the facilities. And this is most definitely a motorhome, not a camper van.”
“Is there a big difference?”
“Oh yes. You could actually get shot in the motorhome community for making that mistake.”
“There’s a motorhome community?”
“Yeah. It’s like the Illuminati. On wheels. So a camper van is a van that’s been modified and had a bed put in, like that. A motorhomeis specifically designed and built to be what it is. You can hook it up to a power supply, either on a site or anywhere with electricity if you have the right adapter, and then you can run on what’s called the leisure battery for a while. I mix and match between official sites and places like this, where I have access to some facilities but get my own space.”
I nod, pretending I understand. In truth, I’m not the world’s most practical person, and he pretty much lost me atadapter. “Right. Well, I’ll probably still call it a van, because it’s shorter.”
“True. It saves you a whole two syllables.”
“So how do you wash and stuff, in a van—motorhome?”
He sniffs his own armpits and replies: “What are you trying to tell me? There is actually a shower room in there. There’s a water tank, which I fill up when needed, and a water heater and a pump, and that means I have a shower and a sink and all the usual stuff.”
“Wow. Just like magic.”
“Well, it is a bit magical, to be honest—the freedom of it. The independence. Having to think about what you really need in your life rather than just being surrounded by... stuff. Though I realize that might be a sore spot for you right now.”
I sip my beer, and listen to the music, and feel the warmth of a sunny day on my skin. I look at Charlie, gamboling around with a cute dog as though he is five again, and smile.
“Well, it probably should be—but I am choosing to live in the moment. Right now, this is nice. So I will accept the magic, even if it’s only for half an hour. We’ve lost a lot, but we still have what matters. At least that’s how I feel right now, sitting here drinking a beer. That might only last for five minutes, though, I warn you. It’s unpredictable, to be honest—I’m fine, and then I’m spiralinginto a flat panic, remembering a new thing we need every second, and freaking out about what happens next.”
“And what does happen next?”
“I don’t know,” I reply, shaking my head. “I suppose I need to find somewhere else to rent, but that’s all a lot more complicated than it sounds.”
“Anyone you can stay with? Family?”
