New Balls Please (Ball Games #3) (2 page)

With a cursory glance, I note there's not a lot of room to turn around and it’s going to be more like a thirty-point turn. I drive the car forward again, only noticing the drainage ditch when it’s too late.

Fuck.

My tyre is resting just above it. I take a deep breath. Jeez, I only just missed going down the ditch. With a relieved exhale I hit reverse.

Whirrrrrrr. Spin. Spin. Spin. Whirrrrrrrr.

My car won't move. 'For fucks sake.' I get out the car and check what’s happened. My tyre’s stuck in the mud. The ground has churned over where I've tried to reverse and there's an overwhelming smell of burning rubber.

A car pulls up behind me and the driver gets out. 'Are you okay, love?'

I bite my lip to prevent my gob from shouting
Do I fucking look okay?
Instead, I give him doe eyes.

'My tyre is stuck in the mud.' I sigh. 'I was only trying to turn around so I could take the car to the main car park.'

'Turn around?' His brow crinkles.

'Yes.' I say firmly. What did he think I was trying to do, a donut?

He points to a sign ahead of me. I put my hand to my forehead. The sign clearly states
one way
.

'Oh...’ I feel my ears heat up. Thank goodness for my hair. He can’t see they’ve gone red. ‘So you mean I'm trying to turn around to drive in the wrong direction?'

He nods in agreement. 'I'm afraid so.'

By now another car has pulled up behind his. The driver is tapping the wheel, looking annoyed. To add to the misery of the situation, it’s raining again.

‘Well I’m blocking the road so I’d better get out of the way. I’ll see if I can flag down a member of staff for you,' says the first driver.

‘Okay. Thank you.’ I watch as he returns to his lovely dry car. He has to drive up a hilly grass verge to get past as my car is blocking three-quarters of the one-way system.

More cars troop past like a metal follow-my-leader. All the drivers and passengers stare at me with an assortment of expressions - disgust, hilarity and plain amazement. I need a pointy hat on my head with a ‘D’ on it.

I get back in the car and try again but it's no use. Whirr. Whirr. Whirr.

Ten minutes pass before an older guy with sparse white hair, wearing a Center Parcs uniform, walks down the road and up to me. He’s wearing a baseball cap which keeps the rain off his face.

'Got yourself in a bit of a predicament there, lass,' he says as he appraises the car.

'I really have. I didn't realise it was one way. I'm so stupid.' My eyes fill with tears.

'Now hey, we'll get it towed. Let me handle it.' He extracts his walkie-talkie from its fastening and radios for a tow truck.

By now the water is running off my face and my coat is soaked through. I glance at my comfort villa only a few hundred steps away. The man's eyes follow mine.

'Listen, I'm Jim. You look like you could use a cup of tea. Why don't you go to your villa? Get dried off a little and make a brew? I'll stay here and wait for the tow-truck.'

I pull at my collar. 'No, it’s fine. I couldn't possibly ask you to do that.'

'Love, there's no sense in us both being here. I have to wait so I insist. Get yourself inside.'

What I actually want to do is lie down in the ditch and hide. Instead, I say, 'Would you like a drink?'

'No, I'm fine, love. I'm used to the inclement weather working here.'

I tremble and realise I'm experiencing something akin to shock. 'Okay. I'll be back soon.'

'No rush, love.'

Pushing the door of the villa open, I walk through to the living area and collapse on the sofa. I'm so embarrassed. Out here on my own, and I've almost blocked the main route around Center Parcs. My first action would usually be to call Tim and ask his advice but there's no way I'm phoning him. I doubt he'd hear his phone ring in the pub anyway.

There’s a pile of towels on the bed and I lift the larger one and cover my hair with it, making a turban. I rub the towel through my hair to get most of the wet out. After a change of clothes, I take my waterproof coat out of my case. When the kettle is on, I realise I have no milk or groceries. I'll drink hot water for now and find a shop if I ever get out of this mess. A glance at my watch shows me it's now nine pm. I wonder what time the shop closes?

There's no way I can settle in the villa knowing Jim is out there in the rain, so I wander back out to him. I am less hysterical now so I chat to him about his job. There aren't many cars passing at this time but the occupants of the ones that do have a good old nosey at my car and then at me. I smile at them as if nothing is wrong and I had planned to leave my car here. Then a four-by-four pulls up and four blokes jump out. My heart rate increases as I stare at them. They appear in their early thirties and are built like brick shithouses. They've got to be some kind of sportsmen with muscles like theirs. I try my hardest not to let drool run down my chin.

'You stuck, love?'

'Yes,' I swish my hair from my face and adopt the posture of a damsel in distress. 'My car is stuck in the mud and I'm blocking the road. I feel so foolish.' I pout, channelling my inner Marilyn Monroe.

'Not a problem.' Hunk Number One nods to his pals. 'We'll lift it out. Get you back on the road in no time.'

I beam. ‘Oh, thank you.’

Jim puts his hand up in front of Hunk Number One. 'Sorry, mate. No can do.'

'What?' Me and Hunk Number One say at the same time.

'Health and Safety. You could injure yourselves. We need to wait for the tow truck, sorry.'

The hunks apologise, return to their car and drive away. I lament the loss of my car being rescued and the muscle driving off. At least they'd kept my eyes busy.

'Here we are, look,' says Jim as a Center Parcs car turns the corner.

After explaining my actions for what appears to be the thirty-seventh time, the tow guy fastens the rope to the back of my car and drives his own forward. The tow rope breaks in two.

'Sorry. Can't shift it,' he says. 'Are you with a breakdown company?'

'Yes,' I answer.

'Good. You need to ring them. There’s nothing else we can do.'

Jim apologises. Shaking his hand, I thank him and he hitches a lift back to base with the tow man. I return to my villa, hoping no-one prangs my car. There’s a lump in my throat and I feel like I can hardly breathe. Luckily my phone has an almost full battery and I manage to get a signal, something that’s difficult when you’re among so many trees. I inform the breakdown company of my predicament. They must be used to idiots ringing them because the lady is lovely and reassures me that a trip to Center Parcs is no problem for their rescue vehicles.

I lie back on my bed. It's now ten-fifteen. Why did I not stay at home? I could be curled up in bed reading, or watching a DVD. I could have made Tim suffer for a day and had the kids in my pocket until they'd apologised. Instead, I'm in the middle of the countryside in the midst of chaos.

The breakdown company tells me they could be up to three hours. Fuck my Life. Like I’m hypnotised I can’t keep away from the window, so I’m intrigued to see flashing lights outside and go to explore. Two guys are taking out the wooden post from the hilly bit where the cars have had to drive up a little.

I walk up to them, my arms crossed over my stomach. 'Oh dear. I've caused a lot of hassle.'

'Yep, you're the talk of Center Parcs,' laughs one of them.

The other one nudges him. 'Leave her alone.' He turns towards me. 'We've got to remove this post in case the other cars hit it. It'll give them more room to get past yours until it’s moved.'

I nod. 'Well, the breakdown company are on their—'

A large rumbling sound interrupts our conversation. A tractor comes around the corner and pulls up next to my car. He sticks his head out of the window.

'Heard there was a woman who needed a proper bloke,' he winks and jumps down from the tractor.

Less than five minutes later my car is free of the mud. The tractor driver even gets in my car and parks it for me. I don't think my trembling limbs could have managed it. The relief is overwhelming.

'Leave it there,' he tells me. 'I've had a word with the traffic people and you can keep it there all week.'

I place my hand on my heart. 'Thank you so much,' I throw myself at him and embrace him in a warm hug. 'What's your name?'

'Tony. It's my pleasure. Now you get yourself settled for the night.'

I slap my forehead. 'Shit. I need to cancel the breakdown people. They're on their way.'

‘So off you go. Then relax.' He chuckles.

'I will. Promise. Oh by the way. What time does the shop close?'

'Eight-thirty.'

I glance at my watch. It's now ten-fifty-five.

‘Right. Okay. Thank you.'

'You okay?' he asks me.

'Yeah. I'm great now the car is out of the road,' I tell him. It’s the truth. Although I'm miffed there’s nothing to eat and only tap water to drink, my relief about the car makes up for it. I bid him good night and return to my lodge.

I cancel the breakdown people first. Then I make another mug of hot water and change into my pyjamas. I'm overcome with exhaustion. Maybe I should rest and start again tomorrow? It seems an intelligent idea and I climb beneath my sheets and close my eyes. Luckily my mind decides I shouldn’t suffer any further. It gives me a lovely dream where the muscle-bound guys rescue me after all. Except this time, there’s no car.

Chapter Three

Camille

I look around the lounge as if she will appear. 'What do you mean she's left?'

It's Sunday and I've turned up for lunch. Lunch that isn’t cooked. I could have done with a day in bed. The Play Centre I own has been manic this week, plus I've got a cold trying to start. My dad passes me my mum's note.

I rub at my eyelid. 'What does she mean… no-one's asked about her? I rang you Thursday night!'

My dad shrugs. 'So did Tyler. But I forgot to tell her you'd called. I turned the ringer off in the bedroom so she wouldn't be disturbed. Now she assumes no-one cares.'

'Oh, for goodness sake. So she booked a week in Center Parcs?'

My dad’s face tightens. 'Yes. A whole week. In June. To learn how to play tennis, and less than three weeks before the start of Wimbledon. You know what that means?'

I hand him the note back. 'What?'

'It’s going to be expensive. Plus, this is your mother so—'

'She’ll buy new gear.'

My usually easy going father’s nostrils flare. 'She's using the money we saved together. For going away
together
. I'm not impressed, Camille.'

'Have you tried ringing her?’

‘Of course, I have. I’m struggling though. She's in the middle of the forest so it won't connect. When it does, she's not answering.'

I take a deep breath and speak calmly. 'Well, you'll have to go and get her.'

'No. No way.' My dad shakes his head. As he finishes speaking, his mouth tightens in a firm line. 'I'm fed up of her acting like a spoilt teenager. She's wasted our joint savings. She'd better flipping well enjoy the week off. Hopefully, while she's there, she can see how ridiculous she's being. I'm at work all week and she's due back next Saturday. If she's lucky, I won't have changed the locks.'

Shit.
'But, Dad, this is how Mum is.'

'Well, it's got to stop. It's just your mum and me now Tyler's left home. I was looking forward to a week or two abroad, now there's a huge deficit in the savings account. She works three days a week and I work five. It’s a bloody insult that I'm working full-time while she's swanning around Center Parcs.' He folds his hands across his chest. 'I'll tell you something else. Tomorrow morning, I’ll ring the bank and cancel her credit card. She's not spending any more of our money. I wonder how she'd feel if I swanned off for a week. There’s an idea. I might go shopping and buy myself some new threads. Spend the rest of our savings.'

Bloody hell. I've never heard my dad be so vocal. Mum’s really gone and done it this time. 'Dad, please don't say threads.'

'Clobber then. I’ll get some new clobber.'

Dear God, he's so old.

I place a hand on his shoulder. 'Do you want me to come with you?'

'No, I'll be fine. I'll have a look at what's in fashion on the internet. When she comes home, that mother of yours will find she has a new partner. One that's not putting up with her drama anymore. I might even have some of my own.'

The doorbell goes and my dad walks to answer it. It's my brother. Half an hour late as usual.

I watch as a dishevelled mess plods into the dining room, says 'Eh?' and then notices I'm in the lounge.

'Where's lunch?' Tyler strokes the stubble on his chin. Shaving must have been beyond him this morning.

'Have you even washed today?'

He flops on the sofa. 'Oh, don't you start. Lindsay was on at me about not getting out of bed. I'm knackered.'

'Well, Mum's left home.'

‘Oh, is she at the shops? What’s she forgot this time? The peas?’

‘No, I mean she’s left. Packed a suitcase.’

He laughs. 'You're funny you are.'

'Where is she then? And where's lunch?'

He leaves the room, walking past Dad and looks around the house, occasionally shouting 'Mum,' then returns.

'Aw, stop messing about. I'm tired and absolutely flipping starving. I didn't get up in time for breakfast.'

My dad hands Tyler the note.

He reads it and rolls his eyes. 'Oh, for God's sake.’ His stomach rumbles and he places his hand on it. ‘I'm so hungry.'

'Mum's left and taken herself to Center Parcs and all you're bothered about is your stomach?' I scold.

Dad shrugs. 'Us blokes really do struggle with an empty stomach. Come on, I'll treat you both to a carvery at The Red Lion. I'm fed up thinking about your mother’s antics. Give me a minute to put my coat and shoes on.'

Dad goes off to get ready.

Tyler stares at me.

'What?'

'I'm waiting for you to tell me what I've got to do.'

'You can think for yourself, you know. What do you think we should do? Dad is set on leaving her to it.'