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“Are we nearly there yet?” My sister Lisa’s voice pulls me from my dozing. I’d fallen asleep against the window of the car, so I stretch my neck to iron out the kinks and wipe the heel of my hand across my mouth in case I drooled.
“Not long now,” dad calls behind him and steers the Ford Cortina down another narrow lane.
Feeling cramped in the back seat, I unfold my arms and knock a box, probably full of makeup, off the seat.
“Baby!” she shouts at me, and starts to gather it together. ‘Mum, he’s being mean.”
“I’m not. It was an accident,” I reply heatedly.
It was an accident but I’m not going to apologise.
I have no idea why she needs to travel with so much stuff anyway.
And she’s the one who’s usually mean to me, which is her prerogative being three years older than me.
I’m the baby of the family, which is how I got my nickname, but I don’t mind.
It’s always made me feel a bit special as it’s hard being the younger brother to someone like my sister.
“Can you see the sea yet?” My mum pipes up and our bickering is now forgotten. I share a look with Lisa, remembering the holidays we used to have when we were kids and looking for the sea was an excitement.
“Mum, we’re not five anymore,” scoffs Lisa.
“No, you’re not.” Mum’s voice holds a touch of sadness. “You’re all grown up, and it’s our last time together before Baby goes to university.”
She’s right, we haven’t had a family holiday for at least ten years.
Dad’s been busy becoming one of the best consulting doctors in Sheffield, so apart from a few days spent hiking in the Peak District, this is the longest time he’s taken off recently, and I think it’s mostly because of Mum’s constant nagging.
Three weeks at the Poplins resort on the East Coast isn’t my idea of fun, but Dad received an invite from one of his patients, the owner of the resort, so.
.. I only hope I can make it into Skegness, which I’ve heard has a good mod community.
I’m not really one of them, but their music’s cool, and anything has got to be better than three weeks stuck in a holiday camp with my parents and older sister who only worries about her appearance.
“We wouldn’t see the sea unless we drove into it,” I point out peevishly. There’s nothing to see at all, just miles of flat roads, fields, and hedges. “It feels like we’re driving into the middle of nowhere.”
“It looks idyllic,” Dad says wistfully, and I feel a small twinge of guilt.
He’s probably looking forward to some down time as he’s been working hard lately.
I lean forward and squeeze his shoulder, and he pats my hand and gives me a small smile in the rear-view mirror.
He’s always been my mentor and rock. He does deserve this break.
The large white rectangular buildings of the holiday camp loom into view, framing a small ornamental lake with fountains. Beyond them I can see hundreds of cabins, a large swimming pool, sports courts, and a funfair.
Dad pulls up outside the central building, which is labelled reception. Above that is written the slogan—sunshine whatever the weather.
I climb out of the car and gaze around. The place is milling with people, holiday makers, and I assume staff as they all seem to be wearing similar blazers—different colours, but they all have a P emblazoned on the pocket.
“Jake!” We all swivel to see a large man in a suit walking towards us. He shakes my father’s hand, then places an arm around his shoulders, and with the other he gestures to the camp.
“I’d have to give this all up if it wasn’t for you.”
“You’re looking well, Max,” my father replies and they fall into talking. I move to get our cases out of the boot of the car and see a man, maybe a couple of years older than me and wearing a dark green blazer, already there.
“Billy, put them in cabin A12,” Max calls out to him.
“Right-ho, sir,” Billy answers, and picking up a couple of cases he asks us to follow him. I pick up the other cases and fall into step with him.
There’s a loud crackle and then a voice comes out of nowhere .
Campers, are you ready for fun? There’s croquet on the south lawn, water polo in the pool, and don’t forget our dance class in the Empress ballroom starting in thirty minutes.
It makes me jump and Billy chuckles.
“You’ll soon get used to it.”
My mum has reclaimed Dad from Max’s clutches and they’re walking behind us.
“We should go to the dance class, Jake. I can’t remember the last time we danced together. Lisa and Baby can learn too.”
“I’m here to relax,” Dad grumbles.
“There’ll still be plenty of time for that.”
Billy stops outside a small wooden cabin, though looking round it’s larger than some of the others we’ve passed.
It has three steps up to a covered deck set with a few comfortable looking chairs.
There’s a door with a window on either side.
Billy unlocks the door and carries some cases in.
I can see there’s a small hall with a door to each side, and beyond that a larger space with a table, chairs, and a sofa.
“Here you go, sir, ma’am,” he says re-emerging and handing over the key to my dad. “You’ll be eating in dining hall one, breakfast is at eight, lunch at one, and dinner is at six-thirty, but don’t worry, you’ll be reminded.”
He gives me a grin as he points out the tannoy post not ten yards from our cabin. I try not to shudder at the thought of it going off again, and as if it senses my discomfort it crackles.
Don’t forget the first heats of our annual beauty contest start tomorrow .
What’s worse than the loud voice eight feet high in the air, is the squeal my sister gives close enough to almost pierce my ear drum.
“Mummy, did you hear that, a beauty contest, I have to enter. Help me, please. I need to decide what to wear and I want to make sure I look perfect. Oh, I didn’t bring the coral shoes, they would have worked better with the yellow sundress.”
“But you brought ten pairs.” My mum tries to placate her but allows herself to be dragged into the cabin anyway.
“And there I was thinking this holiday would be restful.” Dad rolls his eyes and I smile at him, though I don’t know why he thought Lisa would act differently.
He picks up the remaining cases and starts up the steps. I sigh and follow him. It’s not looking like much fun so far.