Page 3 of The Big Dip in Crumbleton
‘Yeah, alright. As long as no one starts banging on about what I’m planning to do with my life again.’
‘You know they just want you to be happy, right?’ said Libby lightly.
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Pete. It was true. Their parents had never been pushy… unless they thought you weren’t living life to the full. Then? Watch out! ‘I guess I could just do without the third-degree again.’
‘Look, no promises,’ said Libby, ‘but if I feel like there’s an inquisition looming, I’ll do my best to steer the conversation towards my revision timetable. That usually distracts them. They love worrying about me working too hard!’
‘Okay, deal,’ said Pete, giving his sister a gentle nudge. ‘Thanks sis! Now, go hunt for your sea treasures. I need to finish up here before our visitor arrives.’
‘Cheerio, homeless one,’ said Libby, sauntering off down the wooden boardwalk.
For a moment, Pete was sorely tempted to abandon ship and join her…but, no… he reallyhadbetter make sure everything was spick and span and ready for their guest. The last thing he needed was his mum on his case!
Slipping his flipflops off at the doorway so that he didn’t track sand back onto the boards he’d swept so carefully earlier, Pete stepped inside and paused. He peered around, doing his best to survey the familiar space with a stranger’s eye.
Now that it was clear of all his mess, the nautical-themed décor his mum had chosen added a quaint charm to the hut. The bed looked inviting, with its fresh sheets and striped duvet, and he’d made sure there was plenty of kindling stacked next to the navy-blue enamelled wood burner in the corner.
The little kitchenette towards the back, with its hooks full of copper pots and pans, was cleaner than it had been all year. His mum and dad’s welcome letter sat on the little fold-down table, propped up against a vase of wildflowers his mum had thrust at him earlier.
After one final glance into the minuscule shower room, Pete headed back outside. He pulled the stable door closed behind him with a decided pang of envy.
‘Why can’t the blasted Chilly Dipper just sleep in the van?’ he muttered as he trudged back towards the VW.
The answer was obvious, of course. No one in their right mind would pay to stay in his beaten-up old camper when they could have a charming shepherd’s hut with actual running water and electricity!
Pete yanked the door of his van open again and squeezed inside. He should have thought this through a bit better… he’d barely left any room to actually make a bed in. He’d have to rearrange things if he wanted to get any sleep later!
He gave the pile of bedding a cursory nudge, then promptly gave up and flopped down on top of the mound, wriggling around in an attempt to get comfy.
‘It’s all so bloody unfair,’ he grumbled, though there wasn’t much conviction behind the words anymore. He tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the pockmarked roof.
Two nights in his van wouldn’t kill him. It wasn’t like it was winter – he wasn’t about to freeze to death!
Still, being unceremoniously ousted from the hut just added to the feeling that he was drifting through life, unsure of where to anchor. Three years in Australia and almost a year back in Crumbleton… and he still hadn’t figured out what came next.
‘Urgh, enough already!’
Pete struggled back to a sitting position and wrinkled his nose. He’d worry about what he was going to do with his life another day. Right now, he had more pressing concerns… like where that ominous smell was coming from!
CHAPTER2
SCARLETT
Scarlett Finch was beginning to wonder whether joining the Chilly Dippers on their trip to Crumbleton Sands was such a good idea after all.
She stared out of the minibus window, watching darkness gather across the unfamiliar landscape. The salt marshes stretched out on either side, an eerie expanse in the fading light.
The excited chatter that had filled the vehicle a few hours ago had dwindled to nothing as most of her fellow passengers nodded off, lulled by the gentle rocking motion and the steady hum of the engine.
Lou’s head rested heavily on Scarlett’s shoulder, and a small snore escaped her friend’s lips.
‘I hope you’re not dribbling on me,’ Scarlett murmured, shifting slightly.
Lou stirred and opened one eye. ‘Hey, human pillow. Quit fidgeting.’
‘You’re the one using me as furniture,’ Scarlett whispered back. ‘And you’re snoring.’
‘I do not snore,’ Lou protested. ‘I breathe dramatically.’
