‘Mum, it’s a tent.’
‘“Glamping”, your father called it. I had no idea what he meant until now.’
‘And there I was thinking you knew everything.’
‘I’m a scientist, dear. I keep up to date on what matters, not passing fashion trends.’
The owner of Lansdowne Holiday Villas, a woman called Theresa (pronounced, irritatingly, with a ‘Th—’ sound) who reminded Lucy of a vole with curtains for hair, ducked her head, widened her eyes and shook her head back and forth in the strange way Lucy had come to understand meant she was waiting for a response.
‘It’s delightful,’ Valerie said, amazing Lucy with her ability to refute the intrusion of sarcasm. ‘I mean, it’s like a holiday villa, but it’s a tent.’
Theresa clicked her fingers with an extravagant motion as though asking a band to keep time. ‘T
