Wrapping her hair in a towel and another around her body, she poured herself another drink and crawled into the empty bed. No flat screen in this motel, but at least there was a TV. She scanned the channels for something other than news or an infomercial, but with only 12 channels, there weren’t many options. She caught the tail end of an I Love Lucy rerun which was more than enough for her because as soon as her head hit the pillow her eyes struggled to stay open. All was good though, she was relaxed and ready to fall asleep because the sooner she fell asleep the sooner it would be tomorrow; and she was so excited for tomorrow. * It was that split second when you open your eyes and have to remember where you are; Mila woke to the sound of a giggling tiny voice excited to be heading to the pool. Then she recalled with a huge smile where she was, today was the day, although she felt she knew him, today they would finally meet. It was 8am, she only had a couple of hours to get ready. When father returned mother had the kettle on. They were soon on the road once more, the remaining journey over the old A6 took most of the day, not so much slowing them because of the town traffic now, but the hills, the trucks of the day making heavy and slow going of the long gradients, and chances of passing them being infrequent. It was late afternoon when they arrived, a campsite at a place called Wastwater, up a remote valley, open moorland, surrounded by high fells, a narrow beach and the huge open lake, no facilities, just sheep, scrubland, grass and a small farm a good half mile away, where they paid for two nights and obtained water and milk, there were few folks around this early in the season, just the hardier walkers during the day so they had the choice of level spots, the boy erecting a small tent, to ease things in the little motor. Privacy, now assured the brambles allowing mother to toilet herself out of the sight of the men, and of course visa-versa. The.
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