It was catching sight of the calendar on my shiny new PA phone on the following week that convinced me I couldn’t put it off any longer. Now we were officially living together in the camper, there was a conversation Jack and I needed to have.
I finally plucked up the courage to broach the subject while he was washing up after breakfast.
‘Jack…’ I began hesitantly.
‘Hmm?’
‘Er, I wanted to talk to you about… well, there’s this, um…’
Oh God, why couldn’t I come right out and say it? I’d tried to open the conversation a dozen times already.
I tried again. ‘It’s just, um, I’m a girl and everything.’
He smiled. ‘I had noticed.’
‘So, er…’
Arghhh! Getting embarrassed talking about periods to boys at my age was just ridiculous. And Jack had been married, it’s not like he wouldn’t understand.
Was this bloody Ethan’s fault again? He’d always been squeamish about what he called ‘women’s issues’. I could still picture his look of horror when I’d asked him to pick up some tampons from the shop one time, way back in the early days. I’d never dared ask again.
‘And girls have… things…’ I tried. ‘Times, you know, when things aren’t so great…’
He was still staring blankly at me.
I took a deep breath. ‘I mean, times of the month where I’m not so fun. To be around. Where I might feel a bit crap, you know?’
‘Oh. Oh!’ he said, the penny dropping at last. ‘I’m sorry, Kit, you should’ve said before. Do you need me to pop out for anything?’
I smiled at his attempts to be sweet. ‘I didn’t mean right now. I just thought we should have the conversation, that’s all.’
‘Okay. Um… so, what would you want me to do? Hot water bottles and things?’
‘No, what I’m getting at is – I suppose I’m just worried about being cooped up in this tiny van in the middle of nowhere, feeling all tummy-hurty and grumpy. Wouldn’t be much fun for you either. And it’d be nice if we could be somewhere with proper loos and everything, you know…’
My face was beetroot by now, but Jack didn’t seem embarrassed. He just gave an understanding nod.
‘Fair enough. If you let me know when, I’ll make sure we’re not on the road for as long as you need. And if you want a bit of space I understand. Just kick me out into the awning if you feel like I’m crowding you.’
I exhaled with relief. ‘Thanks, Jack. That’d be great.’
***
Jack spent twenty minutes after lunch on his mobile outside the camper. When he came back, he chucked it on the passenger seat and threw himself down next to me on the sofa.
‘Who was it?’ I asked, looking up from the press release I was tapping out on my new laptop.
‘Nobody.’
‘Come on, it must’ve been somebody.’
‘Okay, nobody important.’ He turned to face me. ‘Kit, would you be able to mind the pups this afternoon? I need to drive into town for something.’
‘Er, yeah, I guess,’ I said. ‘What is it?’
He tapped his nose. ‘That’d be telling.’
‘You being mysterious?’
‘Yep,’ he said with a grin. ‘Mystery is my middle name.’
‘No it isn’t, your middle name’s Matthew.’
‘’Tis too, it’s my Confirmation name. St Mystery of Vegas, well-known Catholic martyr. She got stoned to death with folded dollar bills for working as an exotic dancer to convert the heathens.’
I laughed. ‘Go on then, I’ll see to the doggies. How long will you be?’
‘Couple of hours should do it.’
I’d got used to Jack’s creative approach to timekeeping by then, so I wasn’t surprised that it was actually closer to three hours when he finally drove back with the camper. Sandy and me were sprawled side by side on the grass in the blazing June sunshine, reading a book. Well, I was reading a book: you could never get Sandy interested in literature, ignorant mongrel. The pups were in their bed at my feet, enjoying the warm weather.
I pushed myself into a sitting position to watch Jack park up in our pitch.
‘What the hell is that?’ I asked when he’d joined us.
Attached to the back of the van was a little orange – God, I didn’t even know what to call it. It looked like a horse box for a knee-high Shetland pony.
‘It’s a present.’ Jack sat down next to me. ‘Hope you like it.’
‘Er, thanks,’ I said, shooting the thing a puzzled look. ‘And they say diamonds are a girl’s best friend.’
‘That’s a classic, I’ll have you know. 1972 Eriba Puck caravan. Even managed to get one that matched the van.’
‘What for though? Why do you need a teeny weeny caravan?’ I turned wide eyes on him. ‘Oh God. Tell me you’re not getting another pet. What is it this time, a womble?’
‘I told you, it’s for you,’ he said. ‘There’s a bed, bit of extra cupboard space – even a kitchenette. Home from home, if you like.’
‘You got me my own room to sleep in?’
‘Only when you want to. Or I will, once it gets cold. I prefer the awning in summer.’
‘But why?’
‘Just thought you might appreciate a sort of house extension, stop the van seeming quite so cramped when you’re feeling rough,’ he said. ‘You know, what you said this morning about needing your own girly space sometimes.’
‘Oh. Right. A little box of my own.’ I patted his arm. ‘Well, it was a nice thought. Hope you didn’t spend too much on it.’
‘Not really. It was only eight grand.’
‘Bloody hell!’ I looked at the tiny thing with new eyes. ‘What’s that, a grand per square inch of floor space?’
‘That’s a bargain, honestly. Told you, they’re classics. Some collectors pay through the nose for that sort of thing.’
I shook my head. ‘You shouldn’t spend money like that on things for me.’
‘Why not?’ he said with a shrug. ‘I’ve got feck all else to spend it on.’
‘Seriously though. People’ll think I’m some slutty retro-caravan-digger.’
He laughed. ‘Well, call it an early Christmas bonus then. Here, come take a look inside.’
I followed Jack to the incy wincy caravan. He unlocked the door and ushered me in.
‘See? Loads of space,’ he said, joining me. ‘Look, you can get two of us in no problem.’
‘Er, yeah,’ I said, smiling at Jack’s bowed head and hunched shoulders.
I cast my eyes around the caravan. It looked like someone had attacked Jack’s camper with a shrink ray. There was a kitchenette with a hob, fridge and sink, one tall cupboard and a couple of narrow sofas that could be slotted together to make a bed, a detachable table between them.
‘I could buy you an awning for it too,’ Jack said, looking downcast that I wasn’t whooping and jumping as I examined the place. To be fair, there wasn’t really the space. ‘It’s just for when you feel like you need a break from me, I’m not moving you into the campervan equivalent of a granny flat or anything. And I thought you could use it as your PA office too, away from distractions.’
‘Such as?’
‘Oh, you know. My body. I know it must be a struggle keeping your eyes down.’
I smiled. ‘It’s perfect, Jack. Just what I need. Thank you.’
He gave my shoulders an affectionate press. ‘So you want to come help me get the awning back up? I was thinking barbecue for dinner.’
‘In a minute. Let me alone in my horse box a sec so I can start to feel at home.’
He patted my head. ‘All right, My Little Pony. See you soon.’
When Jack was gone, I shut the door and sank onto one of the sofas.
Actually, now there was just me it didn’t seem so very small. Smaller than the camper, of course, but then that had to accommodate the engine and driver’s area, unlike my itsy bitsy bubble caravan, so there was a reasonable bit of floorspace.
It was a sweet thought. I’d said I needed space, he’d bought me a caravan just a few hours later – a highly collectible caravan apparently – with some of the Tilly and Billy money he didn’t seem to know what to do with. But I could still recognise it for what it was. An attempt to make me fit his life, his borderless yet claustrophobic future – to keep me with him on his own terms.
I’d just escaped a relationship with a man who’d gone out of his way to remodel me as he needed me to be instead of how I wanted to be. Jack wasn’t like that, of course he wasn’t. But he was still a man damaged by loss. A lonely man. A man who needed someone who could fit.
And for now, I did fit. I just didn’t know if I could live that sort of life forever. Jack never thought of the future much beyond tomorrow, I’d realised that pretty quickly after meeting him. But I couldn’t help thinking about it, formless and shadowy though it was.
I felt a wave of sympathy for him, still trapped in his grief no matter how much freedom he tried to claw to himself. Taking a last look around my new den, I sighed and went to seek him out for a hug.