“The Rampant Rabbit’s worth more….”
I catch Denise’s eye and a wave of sudden hysteria comes over me.
“This is hideous.” My voice is shaking. “Which one are we going to offer her?”
“Offer her both.”
“We can’t say, Here’s a vibrator and some genital-warts cream; take your pick.” I clutch my stomach, unable to stop laughing.
“Find out which one it is,” says Biddy from the stove. “Get her into conversation about it, then when you’re sure which it is, go and get the item.”
“Conversation?” I double up. “What kind of conversation?”
“I’ll do it,” says Biddy. “Honestly, you girls! And put it in a bag,” she adds firmly. “Your dad doesn’t want to see that kind of thing lying around. And, yes, I do know what it is,” she adds, catching my eye with a little spark. “They’ve changed the designs, that’s all.”
Wow. This is the thing about Biddy: always full of surprises.
It’s only about ten minutes later that the SUV roars back up the drive. They must have been flooring it. We’ve decided that Biddy will get Barbara into conversation outside, while Denise and I lurk in the kitchen. And the minute we’ve worked out what the lost property is, we’ll come out with it, discreetly wrapped.
“Barbara!” Biddy steps out of the kitchen door. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to delay your journey.”
“Oh, it’s my own stupid fault,” says Barbara, who has leapt out of the SUV and looks very pink about the cheeks. “But I couldn’t relax till I’d retrieved it. A lot of things, you wouldn’t bother about. But that…”
I look at Denise and reach for the Rampant Rabbit with raised eyebrows. It’s sounding like the sex toy….
“Of course not, dear,” says Biddy in that cozy way she has. “Not when it’s such a very personal item.”
“Oh, it’s not mine, strictly speaking,” says Barbara. “It’s my husband’s.”
What? Denise and I stare at each other with wide eyes, then I take my hand off the Rampant Rabbit and put it on the genital-warts cream. It has to be that. Surely.
“Although he’d say I get more enjoyment out of it than he does,” Barbara says with a friendly smile.
Beside me, Denise explodes.
“Stoppit!” I whisper, and reach for the Rampant Rabbit again. I pick up the bag and prepare to head outside, though how I’m going to look Barbara in the eye, I have no idea.
“Well, Katie’s just fetching it for you,” says Biddy. “She’ll be out with it any moment.”
“That’s right.” My voice trembles with suppressed hysteria as I appear on the doorstep. “Here it is. Um…safe and sound.”
I’ve wrapped the Rampant Rabbit in brown paper and put it in a carrier bag, just so no one gets an untoward glimpse.
“Oh, I’m so relieved,” says Barbara as she takes the bag from me. “I expect I left it in the bed or somewhere, did I?”
I glance wildly at Biddy, my mouth clamped shut.
“I’m not sure, love,” says Biddy, totally unfazed. “But it seems likely, doesn’t it?”
“I’m so forgetful,” adds Barbara, with a sigh. “And the book hasn’t even been bought yet, so you can imagine how sensitive it is. As I say, I’m mortified. It’s so unprofessional, to leave a manuscript on holiday!”
I’ve frozen dead. Manuscript? Book?
“You’ve wrapped it up very nicely.” Barbara smiles and starts to poke at the brown paper. “I might just double-check it’s the right document….”
Shit, shit…
“Oh!” I try to grab the bag back from her. “Let me just…unwrap it for you.”
“I’ll do it.” She starts pulling the brown paper off and my stomach lurches as I see a flash of pink plastic.
“No trouble!” I say shrilly, wrenching the bag out of her hands. Ignoring her cry of surprise, I dash inside. “Papers!” I gasp, dumping the Rampant Rabbit on the floor. “It’s the papers.”
Denise is already one step ahead. She’s gathered up all the papers from the crate and shoves them into my hands.
“So, here we are.” I hurry back outside and thrust the pages toward Barbara, who looks a little taken aback. “I’m afraid they’ve got a bit muddled….”
“Not to worry.” Barbara starts leafing through the pages. “Yes, this is it. Again, I’m so embarrassed. It’s such sensitive material.”
“Really,” I say weakly. “No need to be.”
“We’ve seen worse,” says Denise, stepping out beside me and giving Barbara a bland smile.
“I’m sure.” Barbara hesitates, and I peer at her in surprise. Her pink cheeks are turning deeper crimson. “Actually, as well as the book, I did leave another…um…item….I think that might have been it in the bag….”
For a frozen moment no one moves. Then, in an odd, strangled voice, Denise says, “Of course.”
She retrieves the Rampant Rabbit and hands it over. I can’t look at Barbara. I can’t look anywhere.
“Well…er…enjoy!” I say.
Somehow we all keep it together as Barbara gets back into her SUV and zooms off. Then Biddy catches my eye and starts giggling, and that starts me off. And Denise just shakes her head and says, “Them glampers.”
We’re all pretty much in hysterics as Dad appears round the corner of the farm and says, “Wake up, you lot! There’s a car coming up the drive. The first family’s here.”
—
The next few hours are a blur. It’s always the same on a Saturday—a crowd of new faces and names and questions, all to be met with a charming smile. This is Archie…this is Poppy…this is Hamish, he’s allergic to dairy; didn’t we write that on the form? Oh, so sorry…
The families all seem nice enough, and I’m especially keen on Gerald and Nina, who are soon sitting out on their deck, mixing gin and tonics and offering them to all the other families. Poppy is already scampering around with her dad, looking at all the animals, while Hamish, Harrison, and Harley are glued to their iPads—but I’m not their parents, what do I care? All that concerns me is that everyone is checked in, greeted, and sorted. Which they all are, except the Wiltons.
I’m walking among the yurts, checking that everything seems OK, when I notice that Gus the dog has already got into a field of sheep.
“Oh, hi!” I say, heading over to his owners’ yurt. “Knock knock? Gus is such a gorgeous dog. Only I wonder if you’d mind keeping him this side of the fence? The sheep get a bit freaked.”
“Oh, of course,” says the dad, who I’ve remembered is called Giles and comes from Hampstead. He’s tall and gangling and is holding a copy of a book called The Campfire Gourmet. As he comes out to retrieve Gus, he adds, “We’re so looking forward to the willow-weaving workshop tomorrow.”
“It should be fun! And if you’d like full English breakfast, just sign up…unless you’re going to make your own?”
“We’re making our own,” says Giles resolutely, as he whistles for Gus. “On the fire.”
“Good for you!” I say, ruffling Gus’s head. “Well, I’ll catch you later.”
As I head back toward the farmhouse, I feel…if not ecstatic exactly, then content. Another turnaround nearly completed. We’re getting better at it every week. Denise is catching on to some of our special touches, and Biddy is brimming with ideas, and—
“So authentic. Absolutely wonderful.”
A voice stops me in my tracks. It’s a ringing, imperious voice. And it sounds just like—
No.
“Marvelous view. Look, Coco. Look at this view. And is everything organic?”