A Romantic Break

From China to Paris to a caravan on a farm – with the right person, the humblest holiday can be wonderful…

he placed the cases on the ground and pulled the hood of his cagoule over his head. He forced a smile. “But then I might be tempted to ask him to take us back to the station to get the next train home.”

“He might be away all night,” Angela said sensibly. She couldn’t help chuckling. “And, in this remote place, the trains probably only run every other day.” She squeezed Paul’s arm. “It can’t be much further now. I’m sure the caravan will be lovely and everything will seem better once we’re dry and warm.”

Paul raised an eyebrow as if he wasn’t convinced but didn’t say anything. Angela crossed her fingers and hoped she was right. She heaved a sigh as they picked up the bags and started walking again.

As Paul had remarked, this was not how they’d expected to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary. They’d

Along with their bank balance, their hopes of a holiday in the French capital had diminished rapidly.

Shortly after Paul started his new job his brother, Rob, told them about this caravan, owned by a friend of a colleague.

“It’s on a farm and a bit out of the way,” Rob admitted. “I mean, there are no on-site facilities and no tourist attractions nearby. But it would be ideal for a cosy, romantic break,” he added with a wink.

At first, they weren’t too keen. A caravan holiday on a farm in October sounded bleak and boring, rather than appealing. But, after months of stress and worry, they decided that a short break would help them recharge their batteries.

When their car broke down the day before they were due to set off, they felt they had no choice but to cancel. However when they rang the farmer, he had kindly offered to pick them up at the station.

Well, at least it’s a modern static caravan, not a dilapidated old tourer.” Paul’s voice broke into Angela’s musings and she realised they’d reached the caravan. She smiled. From the outside it looked quite promising.

Inside, they were even more pleasantly surprised. The van was clean, nicely furnished and well-equipped, and the owner had placed a vase of fresh flowers and a bowl of fruit on the coffee table.

After unpacking and taking a shower, Angela tried to text their daughter to tell her they’d arrived safely. But she couldn’t get a signal on her mobile. When she told Paul, he shook his head and laughed.

“We are a bit off the beaten track, Ang. We ought to be grateful we’ve got electricity and running water.” He picked up a leaflet. “I was looking at this. If you can face another walk, this pub’s only twenty minutes away. They serve food and we should be able to get a signal. If not, they might have a pay phone.”

Angela nodded. “Why not? Now the rain’s stopped, it looks as if it’s going to be a nice evening.”

A short time later, they retraced their steps along the farm track until they

While Paul changed, Angela sauntered out to the beer garden and sat down at a table near the stream. She took out her mobile, saw that at last there was a signal, and sent a message to her daughter.

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered your meal for you.” Angela turned to see Paul striding towards her, carrying a tray with glasses and a bottle of champagne. When she gave him a questioning look, he smiled. “I told Sandra it was our anniversary weekend, so she insisted on champagne.”

“That’s kind of her,” Angela said. Then, noticing his baggy T-shirt and jogging pants, she erupted into laughter. Paul looked down at the joggers, several sizes too large. “Not exactly Savile Row, but they’re comfortable.”

“I thought Sandra said you were the same size as Brian?” Angela spluttered between her giggles.

Paul patted his midriff. “I think Brian’s waist is a bit more generous than mine.”

When they’d stopped laughing, Angela asked, “What have you ordered?”

“Salmon pie with prawns and fennel, topped with creamy potatoes. It’s one of Sandra’s specialities.”

Angela couldn’t stop her thoughts drifting to Paris and the dinner cruise on the Seine they’d planned. The meal boasted several courses and dishes Angela had never heard of. But right now, in this peaceful beer garden, away from the bustle of a large city, she knew the fish pie would taste as good as anything in Paris.

“That sounds delicious,” she said.

After Paul had uncorked the champagne and poured them both a glass, he said, “Well, it’s certainly been an interesting start to our anniversary.” He reached across and took Angela’s hand. “You’re not too disappointed we didn’t get our romantic break in Paris, are you?”

Angela glanced around her. A romantic break had nothing to do with a place, she realised. It was about spending quality time with someone special. Andhere she was, enjoying the caress of the evening sun on her face, watching ducks paddling in a stream and drinking champagne with the man she loved who had just taken the time to help a stranger. Things couldn’t get any more romantic than that, could they?

With her free hand, she raised her glass and clinked it against her husband’s.

“I’m not disappointed at all,” she said. “This is absolutely perfect.”

BY MARGARET SKIPWORTH www.myweekly.co.uk