The Things I Should Have Told You. Carmel Harrington

       Chapter Six

       MAE

      Olly ignores my statement. I’ve no idea what he is thinking because he’s gone quiet again. On a normal day he never shuts up, but then again, there’s nothing normal about a day when you bury your father.

      Jamie is bouncing around the room, jumping and down with excitement. He has already been begging us to let him ring his friends to boast about the forthcoming adventure. Evie isn’t saying a lot, but then again it’s hard to tell when she’s enthusiastic or not these days. We can’t get her to talk – not just about the drinking, which she swears was a one-off – but about anything. I know that there is more to this than she’s letting on.

      It’s not just ‘hormones’ making her moody. She’s changed. And there’s something in her eyes, fear maybe? I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it. We had to put a pause on our questioning, because Pops got so ill. At least she’s already on school holidays, so at home, where we can watch her. When I rang her teacher and her principal they swore that there’s nothing going on that I should be aware of. But it doesn’t add up. I just don’t buy the story that Evie wanted to experiment. It’s too out of character. I’m missing something. At least now the funeral is done, I can focus on Evie and get to the bottom of it all. And that bloody van out there is not going to get in the way of that.

      Damn it, Pops, why did you have to go and leave us, right when we needed you most? If anyone could have gotten Evie to talk, it would have been you.

      I cannot for the life of me work out what he was thinking. I mean, fair enough, send us on a holiday. I could handle two weeks in Portugal; we all could. That would have been bliss. But to think that we would even consider heading off on some madcap adventure in a camper van for eight weeks is preposterous.

      Of course I like the idea of teaching the children about the big world out there. It’s a noble aspiration, but surely we can do that without having to sleep in a metal box on wheels!

      ‘We better go outside to Aled and take a look at the van,’ Olly says, walking towards the door. Jamie is out the door before I’ve even had a chance to stand up.

      ‘Come in, come in,’ Aled declares when we knock on the door. I prepare myself for the worst, but as I enter the van I’m surprised. It’s larger inside than I anticipated and quite modern. Even so, we keep bumping shoulders with each other, almost tripping ourselves up as we try to fit into it. I give Olly a knowing look that’s meant to convey, Yeah, right, we’d live in this for eight weeks? Not a hope! Him giving me the thumbs-up sign doesn’t reassure me that he got my look.

      We all follow Aled in single file to the left. It’s the main living area, I suppose. A sea of walnut-wood cabinets with cream-leather upholstery greets us. A bit sterile looking, really. Not a single feminine touch, but no surprise there, either, looking at him. It’s spotless and smells clean, I’ll give Aled that much.

      ‘It smells nice,’ Olly pipes in, as if taking the thought from my head.

      ‘This here is the kitchen galley. You have all the mod cons, Mae,’ Aled says, pointing out the cabinets. This irritates me no end. I mean why automatically assume that the kitchen is my domain? He’s wrong, as it happens, it’s all Olly in the kitchen these days. Fair enough, I’ve never been Rachel Allen but I always enjoyed cooking. But since Olly lost his job, he’s taken over all domestic duties and won’t hear of me doing a thing. When I think about all those times I used to complain about how little he did to help around home, I want to kick myself. Those were the good old days.

      ‘There’s not an inch of space not utilised for storage,’ Aled continues and I murmur something that I hope sounds encouraging. My back is playing up and I wonder: would it be bad if I left them to do the tour without me?

      Aled then directs his attention to the living area in front of him. A table sits between an L-shaped sofa bench in cream leather with a second sofa along the other wall. There are several more cupboards in walnut suspended above this.

      ‘Sit, sit,’ Aled tells us all. ‘It’s proper comfortable.’ He beams as he tells us this, like he’s showing off a prized poodle or something.

      And like obedient children, we all sit as directed and Olly compliments Aled on his soft seating. I try hard not to giggle at how wrong that sounds. When Olly glares at me I only want to laugh harder.

      He then points up to the right-hand-side corner, ‘You’ll be happy to see that I’ve satellite TV too. Now then, Jamie and Evie, you’ll enjoy that, won’t you? It has all the channels. Now here’s my top tip for you. Get yourself one of those Apple TV thingamajigs. That way you can watch Netflix anywhere you go. Right now I’m on series three of Orange Is the New Black. Oh, it’s addictive that one!’

      Evie does perk up a bit at this news and Jamie starts searching for the remote control so he can switch on the TV to try it out.

      ‘I have to tell you, Aled, this has a lot more mod cons than the caravans I used to holiday in as a lad with Pops,’ Olly says. ‘Don’t you think, Mae?’

      I shrug, but I have to concede this much. ‘It does appear to be well equipped.’

      ‘Oh, we’ve come a long way, for sure,’ Aled nods in agreement. ‘I have friends who live all year round in their camper vans. Proper little homes on wheels they have set up. Truth be told, I’m happiest myself when I’m in Nomad here.’

      ‘Why did you sell it then?’ I ask, and I try to hide the smirk that appears on my face. ‘If you love Nomad so much, why not keep it?’ I think that’s a fair question. Go on, get out of that one, Aled.

      He leans in close to us, all conspiratorial and says, ‘I’m getting married! Me. Fifty-four years old, a confirmed bachelor, I thought, forever. Sure, who’d have me?’

      His face crinkles up in joy. ‘I’ve met a woman. Proper lady she is, called Edith. And wait till you hear how we met! Only on the “I love the open road” online forum. Oh that’s a cracking website. You’ll all be needing to join that I’m sure. Lots of like-minded folk, all happy to share tips, a life-saver, I can tell you, on more than one occasion when I’ve been on my travels. Well, anyhow, you see I was having some problems with my water pump here on Nomad. It was scalding the water. I couldn’t shower without putting my life in my hands. And would you believe that Edith was having the same problem? So we got chatting online about what could be wrong and between us we sorted it out. Wasn’t it a problem with the pump for both of us in the end? Would you credit that?’

      Olly and I both nod along in unison like a pair of nodding dogs. Despite myself, though, I find myself enraptured with Aled’s tale of love amongst the camper vans.

      ‘So we’ve spent the past few months chatting and then we decided to meet up. Truth be told, I was a nervous wreck. I never thought I’d ever meet a woman who would show any interest in me. I know I’m a little odd. I don’t mind telling you I was shaking when I parked up Nomad next door to Almost Home.’

      ‘Almost home?’ I ask.

      ‘Edith’s camper van. Oh, it’s a beauty. Same model as this, but a newer version and it’s got the woman’s touch. Cracking job it is.’

      Aled looks wistful, as if he is thinking about his fiancée. And, despite myself, I’m touched. He may well be a stranger, a man who I only met an hour ago, but even so, I’m happy for him. There’s someone for everyone out there, it seems.

      ‘We proper hit it off, the second we met. Before I knew it, I was proposing and she