The Beach Cabin: A Short Story

‘Months, more like. And whose fault is that?’ Charlotte couldn’t stop the words slipping out.

‘I know, I know.’ Ed’s voice sounded pained. ‘But I think it would be good for the kids – and for us.’

‘I’m not sure, Ed.’ Charlotte knew from experience what a holiday could be like when Ed was in work mode. ‘You couldn’t find time to join us in France last month. Apart from one long weekend when you deigned to make an appearance, I had to hold the fort with my mum and dad. And those few days you were there you spent on your laptop or iPad, working. And when you weren’t working you were sleeping – or drinking too much.’

There was silence from the other end of the line. Charlotte was already regretting her outburst and was on the verge of apologising and explaining why she’d felt the need to vent when Ed suddenly blurted, ‘Please, Charlotte, I promise I’ll be totally “there”. No phones, no laptop, no iPad. Just us. We need this.’

Charlotte breathed in deeply. ‘Let me think about it and call you back. Alex is being tricky at the moment, and, even at the best of times, getting the kids to do anything outside their comfort zone is practically impossible. Besides, Pendruggan is a good five-hour drive, and—’

‘It’ll be worth it,’ Ed pleaded. ‘I promise you – come on, let’s do it.’

Still Charlotte wouldn’t cave in. Promising that she’d call him back once she’d spoken to the kids, she hung up the phone and eyed the contents of the saucepan. It hadn’t looked like this in the Observer