Chapter Text
Had she known, back when her mother asked if she could make it to the family’s weekend in the Lake District, that she would be the only person her age there, Holly probably would have declined. It’s not that she didn’t like the annual holiday, not at all. It was usually one of the highlights of Holly’s year, a tradition that had started when she was six and was now in its fifteenth rendition. It’s just, the holiday was usually attended by the same group of people; there were her parents, her brother, her aunt and uncle and their two children, and her parents’ friends and their son. Only it’s not really fair to call them her parents’ friends. That implies a lesser intimacy between Holly and them, and as far as Holly was concerned the two were family. It was the annual family holiday after all. But this year…
This year.
This was the year that Holly was graduating from university. Whilst she had technically yet to graduate, classes had finished a month or so earlier and the whole experience was starting to seem a bit like a dream. The problem with this being the year that Holly finished university was that all the other children were of a similar age. They weren’t children anymore. Her brother was in his first year with a prestigious law firm in London and was so busy he often spent the night at work rather than in his apartment. Her cousins were twins a year younger than her and were both on university-related summer projects, one acting as a research assistant in a university in America and the other collecting dissertation research on chimpanzees in the Congo Basin. The final of their generation, Rob, was busy making a not-unsuccessful attempt at making it as an actor in L.A. Something that Holly wasn’t jealous of. At all. Not even a bit.
Maybe just a bit. Rob had been one of her closest friends growing up, only a year older than her. Whilst she was extremely proud of him for what he’d achieved and loved to see him so happy, it did pain Holly a little that she still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Cue several weeks of post-university quarter-life crisis before her mother rang to remind Holly of the trip. Holly had latched on to the opportunity to bask in the comfort and familiarity of her childhood for a little while longer like a flayed man might run into a body of water for relief from the pain. Only they had run into the sea, helpful, but hellishly painful.
Holly hadn’t counted on being the only young person there, and it was like a kick to the stomach. It reminded her that everyone else she knew seemed to know what they were doing, and she was stuck coasting along on the coattails of her youth. God she sounded old when she talked like that, even if it was only to herself.
So here she was. Bassenthwaite, a place so small and so well-known to her that she could navigate it with her eyes shut, map it when miles away, draw it in minute detail… well, not the last. She couldn’t draw to save her life, but the point still stood. Holly knew the place like the back of her hand.
“Don’t I Sammy?” She asked the three-legged dog that was keeping her company, scratching at his tummy and ruffling his ears. He flopped further onto her lap and seemed to grin at her, before turning his attention back to the flock of ducklings that were trying to cross the stream in front of them to join their mother on the other bank.
The sound of tires screeching jolted Holly out of her peaceful state and she turned to watch as a large four-by-four skidded around the corner before straightening up and moving in her direction, followed at a more steady pace by a second. “Rookie mistake” Holly muttered to Sammy, remembering the time one of her friends had driven her here. The large open spaces and fewer cars had meant her friend’s speed had kept increasing gradually, but as the roads became more and more winding she felt like they were no longer driving from A to B but had somehow entered the Wacky Racecourse. When they had come face-to-face with another car as they entered a bend just a bit too fast, Holly had been convinced that the car was going to topple and they were going to die. Or at least be severely injured. Luckily they’d stayed upright, but the experience was branded in her mind. Do not go too fast on these roads.
Holly’s interest in the two cars increased as they pulled up just a little way away from her, besides where her own family’s cars were parked. Clearly the cottage that adjoined theirs was also going to be occupied this weekend. She hoped they didn’t make too much noise, but whether by ‘they’ she meant the newcomers or her own family she wasn’t entirely sure. Scratch that, she was sure. She sincerely hoped that her new neighbours didn’t overhear their almost inevitable game of charades that evening once ‘the adults’ - although I am an adult, I’ve really got to find a different way of thinking of them - had had a bit to drink.
Not wanting to be caught watching, Holly decided to head back inside the house herself and let her new neighbours get unpacked in some privacy. Giving the ducks one final glance, she stood up and started walking towards the house. Her plan to avoid the newcomers was shot however, when the door to the first car opened just as she was walking past it.
“Shit!” A tall-ish young man exclaimed, gangly limbs falling ungracefully out of the car along with too many bags and what was once an ice-cold drink but was now “All over your top. Crap. I’m so sorry.”
“Stiles!” A voice barked from inside the vehicle. “What the hell are you doing?”
Holly sighed. And then shivered. God, that was one cold drink. “Don’t worry about it,” she said weakly, “I should have left more distance between myself and the car anyway.” Or stayed with Sammy. Nothing bad could come from sitting, petting an affectionate dog. Moving and doing things was clearly the dangerous pastime here.
Others were beginning to emerge from the two cars, and Holly began to feel self-conscious. And also cold. Very, very cold. She crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed her arms to warm up a little.
“Well I’m just going to, uh, go.” She said, pointing to the front cottage. “You’ve got one hell of an aircon system in that car, that drink was freezing.”
Stiles (as Holly presumed his name was, being unable to think of any reason why fence crossings would have been mentioned all of a sudden) laughed, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, these guys get quite warm.” He said, jerking his thumb at the other passengers who were pulling bags out of the car.
“Right, well… as I said I’m gonna go.” Holly smiled, taking a few steps back towards the entrance way. “Nice meeting you?” She couldn’t help but have that sound like a question. Holly doubted anyone could say ‘nice meeting you’ with total sincerity having had ice thrown at them. Stiles gave a sheepish grin and waved.
“Here,” a voice said close to her ear, and a cosy, leather jacket was placed on her shoulders. “That should keep you warm.”
Holly turned to face another tall young man, light-brown curly hair and blue eyes, who smirked at her before walking quickly over to the car behind them, calling out to a Scott and opening the trunk. Bemused, she clutched the jacket closer to her and headed inside, casting one final glance at the new group. There seemed to be about nine of them, three girls and six guys.
“What a good-looking bunch of people.” She muttered to herself, laughing at her absurdity and slight shallowness, before running upstairs to change.
“Dad,” she yelled, sticking her head over the bannister, “how long until food’s ready?”