Midsummer’s day, the longest of the year, stretches ahead for the holidaymakers at Summerwater, a small collection of lodges and caravans in the forest beside the loch. Idyllic? Less so in the gentle but incessant Scottish rain.
What to do on such a day? As it progresses, we sample the thoughts of those in temporary residence. Justine sneaks out for an early run, leaving Steve snoring. Retired couple David and Mary, regulars at the camp, share space but little else during their rainy-day routine of drive, teashop, return. Josh and Milly, young lovers still in bed, give not a jot for the weather as they strive for simultaneous orgasm, though Milly’s mind wanders. Children Lola and Jack are persuaded outdoors by their mum, to splash in puddles and throw stones into the lake. Teenagers Becky and Alex are too old for such distractions, squabbling works for Becky but Alex heads off with his kayak, defiant of the poor conditions on the lake. Claire keeps a close eye on her two toddlers, obsessively cleaning the caravan, and even when husband Jon offers to take them off for an hour, she cannot relax.
The holidaymakers watch each other through condensation clouded windows, speculating on each other’s lives while examining and comparing their own.
But there is one more caravan. The noisy one with visitors, loud music, and drinking. Foreigners. Romanians, thinks Jon; Bulgarians, is Steve’s guess; Ukrainians, says Becky, and at least she has spoken to them. As night finally draws in, and the party starts again, more than one of the natives think enough is enough, and head over to have a word.
The tight,
insightful prose draws in the reader. There is fascination in the minutiae of
the relationships and the inferences they generate. The changing perspectives
are handled well and provide a slow burning fuse to a worthy denouement.
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