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We are the Glampions!
Daisy Tate
Cold Feet Meets Carry on Camping in this camptastic debut novel, perfect for anyone who ever had to put up their tent in a gale…This is Part Four is a series of four e-serial stories.Is friendship meant to last forever? Charlotte Mayfield hopes so. Especially as she’s throwing some luxury glamping into the mix.After fifteen years of trying to be the perfect wife, maybe Charlotte’s best friends from uni – Freya, Emily and Izzy – can still glimpse the woman she’d once set out to be.Freya is up for it. Could a powwow with her yesteryear besties helps her knock some sense into her useless husband?Emily’s hiding her own crisis from her parents, colleagues and now, her mates. Can a weekend under canvas get her to open up?Izzy’s back from a decade abroad with an unexpected addition, her nine-year-old daughter Flora. She’s also keeping another big secret, one that’s brought her home for good. Will a year of yurts mend two decades of hurts – or are some things, like shower blocks, burnt sausages and no wi-fi, best left in the past…
The Happy Glampers
Part Four
We are the Glampions!
DAISY TATE
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
The News Building
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain in ebook format in 2019 by HarperCollinsPublishers
Copyright © Daisy Tate 2019
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover illustration © Jacqueline Bissett
Emojis © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com)
Daisy Tate asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © August 2019 ISBN: 9780008312992
Version: 2019-07-18
Table of Contents
Cover (#uec91f0ef-c958-5b67-ba0b-9dc5d78e4a2b)
Title Page (#u55a314b6-afbc-5b94-ba73-29de16021f7e)
Copyright (#u0d919d8b-7256-5adf-b253-2812e41bd4e6)
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Acknowledgements
Charlotte’s Lemon Drizzle Cake (#litres_trial_promo)
Haven’t read how it all started? Find out in the other glamptabulous instalments available to buy now! (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author
About the Publisher
Chapter 1 (#u8206736f-8d55-549d-a0ab-69d4b11cc73a)
CHARLOTTE MAYFIELD: Good luck Izzy! We know we promised not to text after you and Emms left this morning but Luna and I wanted you to know we think you’re amazing. Luna also wants to triple check that Emily has downloaded Moana and Point Break for you and to assure you she’s done the ‘Crazy for Swayze’ dance several times. Apparently it was a good luck thing back in Hawaii?
FREYA: Throwing my bushel of luck into the ring, such as it is. A bit of pre-Easter mania at the shop (thank god it’s come early this year). Regan has violin concert at school when you will be ‘going nuclear’. She wanted me to tell you she is dedicating her ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ solo to you. Felix says Dumbledore is happy to hang out with Bonzer if you ever need a break from four-footed friends. Monty sends his love. Apparently the house they’re working on is coming along blue blazes so he might be coming home to see the kids this weekend. And me. Obvs. Big love Izz!
EMMS: Is Regan a violin prodigy? ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ at thirteen!!!!! My parents should’ve given birth to her.
FREYA: My bad. It’s ‘Flight of the Valkyries’. Just as powerful, Izzy! I can perfectly picture you wearing a set of Viking horns in the Chemo Suite.
IZZY: Perfect Valentine’s Day gear. Maybe I’ll score!
CHARLOTTE: Hi Mummy!!!! It’s me. We’re making lemon drizzle! Done the dance seven times so far. Seven more to go! xoxoxo Booboo
CHARLOTTE: Apologies if she wasn’t meant to see that. Just nipped to the pantry to get some fondant. Will be more careful.
IZZY: Luna’s heard it all before. Not to worry.
EMILY: Izz just done blood tests etc., and is at gift shop stocking up on Heat and Grazia (exact same gossip as last month when she had scans, dunno why she bothers). Doctors didn’t like the sound of her never-ending cough/temp. If bloods are bad I’m betting it gets called off.
FREYA: Noooooo!!!!!!!! I thought she’d shaken that off. Hasn’t she bought herself a proper winter coat yet?
EMILY: She was being an idiot and kept going to work. And no to the coat because ‘in her head ‘almost March means spring’. Again. Total moron.
IZZY: Just because I’m in the gift shop doesn’t mean I can’t read this.
FREYA: Sorry, Izz. Hope all goes well. Sending lots of love.
CHARLOTTE: Shall I hold off on telling Luna if it’s cancelled?
EMILY: That child is hard as nails. She can take it. Izzy, however, may not.
IZZY: Ta very much, Emms. You’re a dumbass.
EMILY: No you are.
CHARLOTTE: You’re both wonderful. Either way, we’ll be here waiting for you with bells on unless it’s around 5 as have to nip out and pick up Pops from a friend’s. xx C
‘Your cough sounds revolting.’
‘Love you too, Emms.’
‘Ow! Don’t pull my hair.’
‘Don’t slap me!’
Cough. Cough.
‘They’re not going to be happy with your bloods today.’
Izzy flicked Emily’s arm. ‘Quit being so freaking negative. As the one with cancer I am familiar with how this works.’
Emily flicked her back. ‘It’s not the same this time. You’ve seen the scans. So don’t act stupid.’
‘You’re stupid.’
Flick.
‘No you are.’
Flick.
‘Ladies? Is everything all right here?’
Charlotte and Luna sat back and admired their handiwork. One extra-large, extra-squidgy lemon drizzle cake decorated with a blue wave (fondant), a surfer (Lego) and a pig (Moana Adventure Collection).
‘Do you think she’ll like it?’
Charlotte pulled Luna in for a one-armed squeeze. ‘I think she’ll love it.’
‘What if she can’t eat it?’
‘Oh, I’m sure she’ll give it a try. It’ll keep for a couple of days if she’s not up to it today. We’ll make her a fresh one if it takes longer than that.’
Charlotte had, of course, prepared for that option. Since the New Year’s revelation that Izzy suspected her breast cancer had returned, Charlotte’s bedside reading had shifted from book club to cancer survivor memoirs. She’d steered away from the books where the women died in the end as she wasn’t quite up to facing that option. She’d also become a bit of a voyeur on the breast cancer patients’ forums as Izzy point-blank refused to enter ‘that sort of community’. Between that, looking after Luna, Poppy, and doing the odd farm-shop consultancy, she’d barely had time to obsess over CheekyLawGirl’s Instagram updates on Baby Mayfield.
Sorry.
Olive.
She only wished the children would stop calling the infant ‘the pit of despair’. It was difficult to keep a straight face.
‘Charlotte?’ Luna moved the pig so that it, too, was riding on the surfboard.
‘Yes, love?’
‘Thanks for letting us move into the house.’
‘Of course, darling. We love having you here, Poppy and me. Jack, too, of course. When he’s home.’
Luna gently patted her on the arm as if the tables had suddenly switched and that the whole reason they’d moved in was for Charlotte’s benefit. She flashed Charlotte a bright smile. ‘I’m going to check Mummy’s vomit bins are ready.’
Charlotte tried and failed to swallow the lump in her throat as Luna and her billow of hair ‘Crazy for Swayze’ danced into Oli’s repurposed office. Jack had been furious when they’d cleared it out for Izzy (no stairs, en suite, very practical for a woman going through chemotherapy). She knew it was difficult but, quite frankly, cancer trumped philandering fathers who wanted their almost ex-wives to sell the family home.
As it was, Charlotte was still wrapping her head round the fact that Luna was the seasoned caretaker of the two of them. Luna had been eight when Izzy had gone through her first round. She would’ve been seven, but Izzy had delayed the treatment so that she could send Luna to a surf camp. Wouldn’t go in the end, Izzy told them with palpable pride. Luna had insisted on staying and helping the local hospice workers. Saw me through the worst of it. Helped remind me what I was doing it all for.
Charlotte thought of her own mother’s quick and fatal journey through lung cancer. Into hospital one day with what they thought was pneumonia, and, bar the cigarette breaks, out eight days later in a casket. Swift, brutal, and utterly of her own making. A line of thought that suggested Charlotte had yet to forgive her mother for looking after herself so poorly.
Anyway.
She briskly set about tidying up the kitchen for another round of cakes. She was experimenting with some gluten-free Italian-style Easter cakes to try out at Sittingstone. Lady V had begun loudly expressing her doubts as to whether or not ‘the girl’ would be returning from her maternity. Charlotte was confident she would, but the last person she’d leave in the lurch was Lady Venetia. Particularly with Oliver dropping increasingly persistent hints that his mate would buy the house any time. The new house he’d upgraded to must have cost much more than anticipated. Shame. It looked as if Oli would have to work that little bit harder for a bonus this year.
With things as they were – Izzy’s treatment finally under way, Poppy settling into the local grammar school and Jack back to his fractious why is this all happening to me self – she wasn’t going anywhere. She hadn’t been blind to the spike in film and game downloads on the family Apple account during his ‘Dad weekends’. Or the rather expensive noise-cancelling headsets. All of which, at Hazel the Lawyer’s recommendation, she documented in a little notebook. She was particularly proud of the graph she’d made to monitor Oli’s hint-dropping about the house. It seemed to spike with each of CheekyLawGirl’s mentions of #desperateforananny or #MaternityLeaveForever.
There was, it turned out, a pinch of time in every day for Instagram.
A picture of several women holding up infants and Buck’s Fizzes slid into view. #BabiesWhoBrunch.
As if on cue, a text from Oliver pinged in. Hello, love. Any chance you’d join me for lunch at The Four Feathers next week? Would love a bit of a catch-up. x Oli
The Four Feathers? Oliver only took her there when he’d well and truly stuffed something up. Goodness. He really must want to free up some cash. She was about to answer that she was very busy, but thank you for the kind offer, when the crunch of gravel on the drive drew her attention.
Izzy’s van with Emily at the wheel and a raging Izzy in the passenger seat pulled to a halt.
Oh, dear.
‘Darling! Your mother’s back a bit early. What do you say we put that posy of sweet peas in her room after all?’
Freya Burns-West
15 Canter Lane
Balham, London SWX 14XB
