Daisy Tate - The Happy Glampers

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published as e-book in serial in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

This e-book edition 2020

Copyright © Daisy Tate 2019

Cover illustration © Jacqueline Bissett

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2020

Daisy Tate asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008313005

Ebook Edition © June 2020 ISBN: 9780008313012

Version: 2020-04-06

For Jorja and Grissom

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading

About the Author

About the Publisher

‘Cake!’

Everyone cheered as Charlotte slid the very last cake they would ever eat as university flatmates onto the table. She dropped a shy curtsey and stood back, watching as they plunged their forks into the huge lemon drizzle. No plates. No serviettes. No ‘you firsts’. Just pure, unadulterated, last-day-of-uni bliss.

She’d miss uni. She’d miss her friends. These last three years had been the first time in her life she’d felt as if she mattered. As if all of her silly hopes and dreams might have a splash of validity. London, she worried, could very well prove her parents right. That taking a ‘useless degree’ in art history would land her one job and one job only: cleaner.

‘Ohmigawd, Charlotte. This is ah-mazing!’ Izzy’s mid-Atlantic accent cranked west as she sang out, ‘I’m surfing my nirvana waves!’

‘Izz. Your bit’s at that end.’ Charlotte always made one end gooier than the other because Freya liked it fluffy, Izzy liked it gooey and Emily said she didn’t really give a monkey’s so long as it looked and tasted like cake.

Her eyes jumped from friend to friend as conversations pinged all over the shop. Everywhere but on the question of when they’d meet again. Did they care as much as she did that their ‘household’ was splitting up? It was a bit late in the day to fret about whether or not her role as ‘The Organizer’ was the only reason they adored her. She’d almost slavishly taken to the role, taking charge of any and all pragmatic concerns – finding housing, creating cleaning rotas, always ensuring there was loo roll. Three short years ago they were strangers. Today? Today they were the most mismatched gaggle of girls she’d ever had the pleasure of calling her very best friends.

‘This is cardiovascular disease on an epic level,’ Emily said through a mouthful of icing. ‘And I never want it to end.’ The future Dr Cheung was too busy waiting for Izzy’s cackle of delight to notice how pleased Charlotte was at the backhanded compliment. If there was a way to preserve this moment in time – capture it in a jar, press it into a scrapbook, dangle it from a charm bracelet – she would do it in an instant.

‘C’mon girlie,’ Freya pointed at the empty chair beside her, her Scottish burr exaggerated by the rolling of the r . ‘Would you park your wee bum for once?’

Charlotte sat, pretending she didn’t care that they were devouring the cake like heathens, missing the fact she’d spent that little bit extra on the lemons, added a half-cup more drizzle, precious pence spent that she could barely afford on her student grant, because that’s the way her friends liked it best, but, as ever, she was unable to stop herself from beaming. She basked in the glow of their approbation. Relished that they loved it every bit as much as they had when, just a week into uni and shy as a dormouse, she’d made one for them in their very first student accommodation.

‘Nummy!’ Freya swept her wavy, pixie cut to the side and grinned at Charlotte. ‘Promise me we’ll meet up in London and eat cake?’

‘No!’ Emily put up a hand. ‘She’s mine. I refuse to let her leave. I claim you as my baking bitch for the duration of med school.’ She took a decisive bite as if the matter was settled. Emily had a way of drawing lines in the sand.

They all turned to Izzy, waiting for her to stake her claim on Charlotte. She looked up when she felt the group’s eyes on her. ‘What?’

Emily patted Izzy’s cheek. ‘Bless. What’s our little Izzy going to do out in the big wide world without all of us to look after her?’

‘Dunno.’ Izzy shrugged, that bloom of mystery surrounding her as it always did when she dodged their questions about the specifics of her life. ‘What are any of us going to do?’

Whatsapp Group: Happy Glampers

Charlotte:Hello Girls! I suppose it’s Ladies now. So pleased you’ve received the invites for my fortieth. I can’t believe it’s so soon! This is a test message, really. Techy things aren’t my forte. Oh! And as a small favour, I doubt you’ll be running into anyone else who’s coming, but you girls (sorry, ladies) are the only ones invited to stay, so … secret squirrels?

Charlotte:*taps on microphone to make sure you can hear me* LOL. Freya? Emily? Are these the correct phone numbers? Or does WhatsApp take a few days to get up and running?

Charlotte:Emily! So sorry to have used your work mobile. No wonder you ignored me! I hate to think I might’ve interfered with one of your surgeries. Sounds like the NHS is running you ragged. Has this message come through? Do say if I’m becoming a pest. Freya? Are you out there or have I got the wrong number? x Charlotte

Freya:Sorry, Charlotte! Monty put my phone in the wash last week, the numpty! Am using Stone Age tablet until I can wrestle phone off one of the children. Was it the first bank holiday or the second? We’re a definite Yesx4 xoxoxxF

Charlotte:Oh, wonderful! Not about the phone, obviously. It’s the SECOND May bank holiday. I’m so pleased you can make it. Bank holidays seem to get booked up so quickly! As you know, families and plus ones welcome. I’ll get one of the children to help me forward a map and the rest of the details for Sittingstone. Any more questions just throw them my way. x Charlotte