The Vintage Ice Cream Van Road Trip. Jenny OliverЧитать онлайн книгу.
on particularly well, Hols.’
‘Not really.’ Holly shook her head, knowing she’d said it too quickly. She felt Annie glance up from the tea she was making and look her way.
‘Yeah you did, I thought you looked very cosy in the pub,’ Emily winked.
Holly shrugged. Annie’s mouth started to open.
But they were interrupted by a shout behind them. The kids, who were meant to be washing down boats, putting blades away and generally tidying up, had all got bored and started throwing sponges at each other and flicking water from their water bottles.
‘Stop it!’ Matt, who had dried himself off and was now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, shouted again as he got sprayed with water meant for Julian.
On the river the last two boats were racing, storming down side by side as all the spectators in Alan’s hospitality tent were roaring drunkenly. The kids paused their water-fight to stop and watch and Matt cupped his hands together to cheer for the losing Cherry Pie team. Holly watched her dad cycle down the tow-path, red-faced and shouting furiously at his crew. Emily, completely uninterested in the racing, kicked off her boots and bent to pick them up, ‘My feet are killing me. Holly, listen, I’m serious about hiring out the van. My mum’s been looking for something like this for ages but the idea of sorting it from France - nightmare! Her theme is all boho chic and she wants all these little vintage touches. We’ve been collecting bloody jam jars for yonks for the flowers - I had to carry them over in my suitcase last time I went over there. If they’d stopped me at customs they'd have thought I was nuts. This couldn’t be more perfect because she adored Enid and this would tie it all up so brilliantly. She’d probably love to have you there too, she always thought you were marvellous. Much better than me,’ she laughed, ‘Come on, how would it work? Who would drive it? Would I drive it? I’m a terrible driver.’
Holly shook her head. ‘Emily, I have no idea. I’m not even really hiring it out.’
‘Will Wilf be at the wedding?’ Annie asked, not really taking her eyes off Holly.
Emily nodded, ‘Definitely, he’s just invested in a bar with my mum’s new husband.’
Annie looked pointedly at Holly, ‘You should do it, Hols. You should go with Emily.’
Holly ignored her.
‘I’ll pay you. What are you thinking, cost wise? You name it, I’ll double whatever you’re thinking if I can make this happen.’ Emily looked at Holly, her face serious, as if she’d suddenly snapped into business mode.
Holly watched Annie lean down at the window and wait to listen to what Holly would say. She knew Holly needed money. She had no steady job, she’d taken the last seven months off and had very little savings left. Now she was about to have a baby to support and only the minimum government maternity allowance to do it with.
‘I don’t know,’ Holly said in the end. Behind her she could hear Matt shout again as the kids started to chuck water at each other again, ‘If you lot spray me again, I’ll put the hose on you. Julian! I’m warning you.’
‘I really think you should, Hol,’ Annie said, eyebrows raised.
‘Why are you using that tone of voice, Annie?’ Emily asked. ‘Is this to do with Wilf? Holly, did something happen with you and Wilf, because you know I thought something did and I asked him and he said that nothing happened, which is unusual for him, but I was sure something happened. Did something happen?’
‘No.’ Holly shook her head. ‘Nothing happened.’
But as she said it, she was caught in the midst of the full-blown water-fight that had broken out between the juniors and Matt, who had just turned the hose on full force.
‘Oh my god!’ Holly held her hands up against the water.
A second later, they were all dripping. Emily’s bare legs and the hem of her denim dress were soaked. Annie’s choppy blonde fringe was flattened to her head. But Holly had got the brunt of it and was wet from head to toe. Auburn hair darkened to black, skin glowing with water, eyelashes all clumped together, black leggings wet through and baggy white T-shirt now see-through and sticking to her body.
Anyone who was looking would notice, before she turned away to grab her sweatshirt, that she was probably about three months’ pregnant. And, of course, Emily was looking.
‘Oh Jesus,’ Emily said as Holly stood there, trying to get her jumper on as fast as possible. ‘Are you preggers? You’re not…? You are!’ She held her hand to her lips for a second, then asked, ‘Is it Wilf’s?’
‘Can we just not talk about it?’ Holly said, waving her hands to try and make Emily be quiet.
‘Holly, this is all the more reason to come to France. You could sound Wilf out.’
When Holly didn’t reply, just looked around to see who might be within earshot, Emily added, ‘the worst thing you could do is not tell him, Hol. He doesn’t trust people very easily at the best of times.’
‘And how do I tell him?’ Holly whispered, not looking at Annie, who seemed to exhale with relief that she’d finally admitted who the father was. ‘I can’t just text him and say, by the way, I’m having your baby.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh please.’
‘I could tell him for you.’ Emily shrugged and got her phone out of her pocket.
‘Don’t you dare!’
Emily laughed as Holly tried to snatch it from her. ‘So come to France, then! Please. It’ll make my mum love me and she’s been in a filthy mood since that whole Rolling Stones nightclub paparazzi incident. And you can tell Wilf all softly, softly in lovely warm South of France-esque surroundings. Pleeeease.’ Emily held her hands together and stared at Holly with her big blue eyes. ‘If nothing else, do it for the money.’
‘The money would be useful, Holly,’ Annie added.
Holly looked up at the van, at the blue and white striped awning and the inside patterned with tiny blue forget-me-nots. She wondered what Enid would have told her to do. Enid was always about straight-up honesty. Except Annie had found a government letter in the café clean-up addressed to Enid about a guy injured in the war. A guy who wasn’t Enid’s husband. So maybe she wasn’t so honest after all.
She thought back to when she was an angry fourteen year old. Holly remembered sitting on the fridges in the van, eating a 99 with chocolate sauce. It was just after her mum had left. Ran off with one of the men she cleaned for. They’d apparently been having an affair for two years. Two years Holly and her dad’s life with her had been a lie.
Two years.
She remembered a conversation she’d had with Enid, who had subtly stepped into the void left by her mother. She was there keeping watch, always just checking…
‘Coach Billy says you haven’t been training for two weeks,’ Enid had said while serving a little boy a lemonade lolly.
‘Why is he telling you?’
‘Well, if he tells your dad he knows he’ll probably take it a bit too seriously. And if he tells you, he knows he’ll get some smart-arse response. So, seeing as I have to put up with you every afternoon, not really working—’ She’d turned to look at her. ‘Am I paying you to sit on the fridge? Or to clean the fridge?’
‘Clean the fridge,’ Holly had said, crunching on the cone of her 99.
‘Well clean the bloody fridge. Jesus Christ, girl. Your mother has a lot to answer for.’ Enid pulled a couple of 99 cones for a group of school kids and then wiped her hands and took a swig of her Coke. ‘You make your own future, Holly. Don’t let your mother’s mistakes mess up yours. You’re a good little rower and you could go far. I want to be cheering for you at the Olympics, not watching