Read Online A Bit of Earth by Rebecca Smith - Free Book Online Page B

over her pink and green stripy chest. She had travelled in shorts, getting in the holiday spirit back in Guildford, or St Albans or wherever. She probably thinks I’m the cleaner, thought Guy, or a mad axeman in an old Golf with a small boy. Felix might look like a hostage.
    â€˜Um, there seems to have been a mix-up,’ he said. ‘This is our cottage for the week. I booked it with Lleyn & District holidays.’
    â€˜Well, we’ve got it for the fortnight!’ she countered.
    Oh dear, thought Guy, they might punch me.
    â€˜Stay in the car,’ he yelled to Felix.
    Mr SUV and two of the sons came over.
    â€˜Now look here. You were following us and we were here first.’
    â€˜He probably tries this on all the time,’ said one of the boys.
    â€˜Well, we booked it, and I have the details right here,’ said Mrs. ‘Now I’m sure we can sort this out in a civilised fashion.’
    â€˜I’ve got my confirmation too,’ said Guy.
    He pulled it out of his wallet with a flourish. ‘There!’
    â€˜Ha! You’re twenty-seventh of the ninth! We’re the ones who are twenty-ninth of the seventh, and for two weeks. Sorry, mate. Your mistake.’
    â€˜What? Oh, sorry,’ said Guy. ‘Sorry.’
    â€˜No need to apologise,’ said the mummy, with the most pleased-with-herself smile Guy had ever seen. The two big boys went sniggering back to the car to unload some more stuff. Guy looked forlornly after them. They were biffing each other, their shoulders shaking with laughter.
    â€˜Well, I’ll be off. Sorry about that.’
    â€˜No need to apologise. No harm done,’ said Mrs.
    â€˜Sorry,’ said Guy.
    â€˜You’re the one with a problem, mate,’ said Mr.
    â€˜Well, we’ll be off then.’
    â€˜Won’t you stay for a cup of tea?’ asked Mrs. One of the children was, at that moment, bringing in a flagon of Waitrose organic milk.
    â€˜Um, no thanks. No. We’d better be off.’
    â€˜Come a long way, did you?’
    â€˜No. Not far,’ said Guy, backing away. ‘Stupid of me, really stupid …’
    He got back in the car.
    â€˜Daddy, what are those people doing in our house?’ Felix asked.
    â€˜Well, there’s been a mix-up and they’ve got it for the week.’
    â€˜But it was our house. I chose it. I wanted to go on that swing.’ Felix began to cry. Guy could have joined him.
    â€˜Just a mistake. Oh, don’t cry, Felix. We’ll find somewhere else. Maybe we could stay in a hotel. Maybe right by the sea. Right opposite a beach. We’ll find swings. Don’t cry. Please, please don’t cry…’
    â€˜I hate those people,’ said Felix.
    â€˜So do I.’
    Guy drove back down the drive and, he hoped, off into the distance. There would be no sunset. Another depression was racing in across the Irish Sea. How could he have been such a dunderhead? Why hadn’t he checked it and checked it again. Why hadn’t he been paying attention? He couldn’t even organise a week in bloody North Wales without getting it wrong. No wonder, no wonder …
    The dates on the booking confirmation were in his handwriting. It was all his fault.
    But an hour later they were sitting on twin beds in the Gwesty Rhosyn, looking at a view of the sea.
    â€˜I’ve always wanted to have a go on a balcony,’ said Felix.
    â€˜Now you can.’
    They unpacked their few belongings.
    â€˜Let’s try to keep our room really neat all the time,’ said Guy. He loved the empty perfection of hotel rooms, the uncluttered, anonymous and unsullied look of them when you arrived.
    â€˜Shall we dine in or out tonight?’ What Guy would really have liked was room service, but he had the feeling that not much would be forthcoming.
    â€˜Out,’ said Felix. ‘Maybe there will be a chip shop café.’
‘I’d say that’s very