The sun was setting across the fields, drenched in golden light, long drawn shadows enhanced the beauty of their surroundings. Feeling oddly at peace Archie and Wren ambled the final stretches of the stream before reaching their destination. Finchingfield campsite.
Approaching cautiously they made their way towards the site, the tops of large yurts visible over the surrounding bramble bushes, rich in berries, ripe for picking. The camp was abandoned, holiday-makers seemingly leaving in a hurry. The four Yurts doors left open, gently flapping in the breeze, contents scattered across the floors.
Despite the mess, it was a beautiful campsite. Surrounded by farmland, a gentle stream passed by, a small house with adjoining shop that had all the necessities needed for camping sat by a large freshly painted green gate that provided access to sprawling country lanes.
Washed in the sunset, warmth on their faces they stopped to soak in the peace of the moment.
“Right, let’s see if anybody is home” Archie said, breaking the silence
The door to the shop was locked, peering through the windows Archie could see it was filled with camping equipment, hiking gear and a small stockpile of both long-lasting and tinned food. It seemed like the fridge had been cleared of anything perishable.
“Someone might be home, looks like the fridge unit has been cleared out” Archie called over to Wren, who was closing the heavy gate to the campsite.
“Maybe we can live here forever like two hobbits” Wren joked, making light of the situation.
They walked over the bright green lawn of the property towards the front door to the house, making note of the precision of the edging, the care and love poured into every detail of the campsite. A beautifully painted deep red door, window frames to match, even the brickwork seemed clean and tidy.
Wren knocked on the door, clumsily using the large, heavily polished brass knocker that sat perfectly on the centre of the door.
After three minutes of silence, rocking backwards and forwards from the heels to the balls of their feet, they looked at each other.
“I guess nobo…” Archie was in the middle of saying when Wren’s hand shot up for silence.
“I think I heard a dog bark” she whispered, crouching by the letterbox and opening it gently and calling out “Hello, is anybody home, I think I heard a doggy”
More time went by, silence held its course. After a while, some muffled sounds and shuffling could be heard through the letterbox. Crouching down by Wren, Archie called out “If there’s a dog in there and nobody home we’ll have to come in and get it - we don’t mean any trouble”
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“They might be dangerous!” a woman called out from deep within the house as a giant man rounded the corner and headed towards the door. Wren and Archie stepped back, hands behind their backs, suddenly feeling like school children that might be in trouble, they were ready to profess their innocence.
The door creeped open to reveal an elderly man, although time seemed only to have aged his hair and skin. He was huge in stature, blocking the door frame completely. Standing back a pace from the door he said “The campsite is closed, we don’t want any trouble here” in a soft and timid voice, a complete juxtaposition to his physical appearance.
“That’s ok, neither do we. It’s scary out there and getting dark, we don’t have any other place to go” Wren replied, her voice soothing and calm, the strange octaves of her accent seemed to double-down on the innocence she projected to the man.
A brown, black and white Beagle scurried forwards to take a look at its new guests, delight across its face as it knocked its head against the man's shins, weaving in and out between his legs, tail wagging incessantly.
“Cheeky boy” the man said, a smile breaking the corner of his mouth as he scooped up the dog in giant arms, old Naval tattoos visible across his muscular forearms.
Growing bolder by the presence of his companion the man stepped forward into the light, revealing a cheerful face, thick white moustache and dark, darting eyes as he took in Archie and Wren.
Taking sympathy on the pair, he sighed “Listen, you can stay the night. It’s getting dark. Maybe a night or a couple. Everything seems a bit Pete Tong at the moment”
Confusion covered Wren’s face. “What is Pete’s Tong?” She exclaimed
Chuckling, the man replied “it means everything is a bit wrong”
“Oh” Wren said sheepishly
“I’m Bob. Back there is my wife Maureen, she’s not too good on her feet” He went on “We’ve run this place for decades, our slice of heaven” he said looking out at the scattered belongings between the yurts. “Don’t suppose you could help me finish clearing the mess before we lose the light?”
“Of course, we’ll earn our keep” Archie smiled. They shook hands, Archies being swallowed by Bob’s which were at least twice the size of his own.
“How tall are you” Archie blurted out
“Six foot Seven. Thought my knees would have been shot by now, but they seem to be holding up ok” he joked as he patted his oversized pot belly. “I’m very active keeping this place in shape, but I do love a nice cold beer… I guess that keeps me out of shape” he scoffed as he unlocked the door to the adjoining shop.
The shop smelled of freshly cut wood and was filled with rucksacks, portable stoves, spare tanks of gas, hiking boots, outdoor shirts and gear. “Feel free to take what you need” Bob said looking at Archie, whose clothing was attaching itself to his slender frame, blood staining the shirt he’d borrowed just hours earlier. “And maybe take a shower once we’ve cleaned up” Bob added, taking in the matted hair, filthy boots and jeans.
They must have really been through it today, Bob thought to himself, taking pity on the pair. He sensed no danger from either of them and could tell from the combination of panic and gratitude that plagued their eyes that they meant no harm and were genuinely just trying to survive the day. He wouldn’t pry yet about their injuries, or the blood, but he felt confident they were good people.
“I…I.. don’t have any money” Archie said nervously
”Don’t think anyone has much use for money at the moment” Bob retorted, a little too confidently. He quietened down quickly, revealing he knew a little more of what was going on than Archie and Wren.
Not pressing for more information, they took the black bags from Bob and the three of them got to work. The dog, Bertie, yapped and ran circles around them as they scurried through the campsite at pace in the final moments of sunlight.