The Lone Alpha

Chapter Two. Davina.

Chapter Two. Davina.

I wish my son would just hurry up and choose the last toy he wants to take on our holiday. Seriously, his suitcase is packed, mostly with all his action figures and plushies, with hardly room for his clothes. But his five-year-old self really needs one more toy with him, but he cannot decide between his Mandalorian figure or his Batman. He is looking up at me with his bright blue eyes, which are almost identical to my own, that plead with me to let him take both. However, I told him one more, three toys ago, so I am not giving in... this time.

I can feel the frustration that is welling up inside me about to break through, so I take a deep breath to attempt to keep my cool.

“Max, you really need to choose one, or we are not going to miss the bus, and not go on this holiday,” I sigh out.

“Mandalorian,” he decides.

Finally, maybe now we can head out of here, and get to the bus stop, to begin the journey to our first-ever holiday destination.

I take the toy and stuff it into his backpack, grab both our cases, sling my large bag over my shoulder, and quickly head to the door. Just as I began to open it, his little voice shouted out to me.

“Mam, I think I want Batman,” he states.

I knew this would happen, but I am going to be firm and stand my ground.

“Sorry son, but there is no time to change it. Come on, let's go,” I state, and bundle him out the door, as he adorably pouts at me.

I will not give in, I will not give in.

“Okay, hurry up and get him, but you must hold it all the way there,” and watch as he quickly runs back inside to his toybox and grabs the toy with an infectious smile on his face.

So yeah, I guess I did give in. Let me be honest, I kind of always do. Max is my life, my reason for living, and being only 18 when I fell pregnant and gave birth to him, and still, I am only 23 now, I make the odd mistake when attempting to be stern with him.

Yes, my son was a happy accident. Although I did not feel happy at the time. My world crumbled at my feet. I remember the day I found out I was pregnant as if it were yesterday. I had met a man, an amazing man with a smooth Irish accent, who looked at me with such intensity that I could not refuse him anything. It was instant, spontaneous, and almost animalistic. However, no sooner than the deed was done, he claimed he could not fall in love, and literally ran off.

I still feel my body shiver from the utter terror of telling my parents to this day, and the fear was valid. I remember distinctly standing before them, tears streaming down my face, as I told them my news. I expected anger and shouting, but what I had not planned on was them giving me two choices. To get rid of the baby or leave their home and never see them again.

Yeah, despite my young age, and not having two pennies to rub together, I chose the small life that resided within me. I gathered my things and left that night. For months, I was couch-hopping at friend’s homes, until they found out the real reason I could no longer live with my parents. Even my supposed best friend dumped me quicker than a hot potato when I could no longer go drinking with her on a weekend. I had a suspicion that she was using me, and had shown me her true colours, and soon I was ostracised, the outcast, someone to be ridiculed.

Life was tough, with nothing to my name but, after being found sleeping rough with a small but noticeable bump by a homeless charity, I was given a small two-bedroomed house on a council estate, and someone to help me get to grips with Universal credit, as my part-time job no longer needed my services. I still do not know to this day if they did it because of my teenage pregnancy, or if the store had hit financial hardship. But, what I do know, is that the shop is still operating, and seems to be going strong.

Max is tall for his age, and often mistaken for a child a lot older, which is weird given he was born prematurely, but still had a good birth weight, and full lung functioning. The doctors all determined that I got my dates mixed up. However, I know I didn’t, because I have had s*x once in my life, and that was with the man who is Max’s father.

Over the past few years, I have managed, and here I am over 5 years later, with my gorgeous boy, who I would do it all again for, in a heartbeat.

Last year I started working, from home, during school hours, as a customer service worker, answering calls for a local firm. It has been a lifeline, and my income has increased enough that I could find £70 per month for ten months to book this week away and cover some spending money. So, Max and I are embarking on our first holiday, in a caravan park just south of the Scottish border in Northumberland. It is not a long journey, about an hour on the train, but with the bus to the station, then the metro to Newcastle to catch the train north, it will take around two and a half hours in total.

To be honest, I am not sure which one of us is more excited. Max, or me, when we finally step off the train at Bewick-upon-Tweed, and head to the bus stop that is down a side street, for the number 18 bus that will drop us off outside the doors of the holiday park.

“Hold on to Mammy’s case whilst we cross the road, please Max,”

Yeah, the never-ending worry of my child running out in front of a car is at its height, as I try and navigate the small streets, and cross the road that seems far too busy for the size of the town. But we made it safely, and thanks to Google Maps, found the bus stop with hardly any drama, and five minutes to spare. As we bundle our way onto the small bus, Max is still holding his Batman tight to his chest. As promised, he carried it all the way, and if I am honest, it was a blessing, as he played happily with it most of the journey.

As the bus pulled up, outside the caravan park, both Max and I let out a little squeal of excitement, as I double-checked we had not left anything behind, and pulled our cases to the large entrance, and up the small road to the checkpoint.

I give the security guards my name and booking form, and they usher me through the barrier before I head off to reception to collect the keys to the caravan.

As we wait in line, Max begins to hop from foot to foot. I know what that means.

“Do you need the loo, Max?” I ask him, as he looks up at me, scrunching up his little face, and nodding his head, a tell-tale sign that he is desperate. Just my luck, we were nearly at the front of the queue that is now out the door.

“Excuse me, can you show me to the nearest toilets please?” I asked one of the staff who walked by us.

“Yeah, it is in the entertainment centre. You do not need your passes to go in there today. Just out the doors, take a right, then right again, head through the amusements and take a right at the bottom, and it is on your left, just before the main entertainment room, before the swimming pool” The woman smiles down at me.

“Actually, what is your name?” she asks as we head out the door past the line of holidaymakers all queuing up for their keys.

“Davina Morris,” I say to her.

“Here, pass me your booking form, and I will run round to the toilets with your keys and passes, to save you waiting again,” she kindly offers.

“Thank you so much,” I smiled at her, as Max now desperately tugs at my hand because he really needs to go.

I know my son is desperate for the toilet when he does not argue with me about going into the ladies. Normally, he insists that he is a big boy and can go in the men's. Yeah, we are at that stage, and every time I let him go to the men's loo, I stand outside, peering around the door like a pervert, desperate to know my son is okay in there. It is horrifying, seriously, nobody tells you the sheer panic you have, as a single mother to a young boy, when they need the toilet in a public place.

“Wash your hands please Max,” I remind my boy and watch as he scrubs them, singing Happy Birthday twice, to ensure they are perfectly clean and germ-free.

As we step back outside and climb the steps that lead back through the array of amusements and games that are probably going to take the majority of my spending money, I see the lady from reception waiting for us with a wide smile.

“Your caravan is ready for you. You are at the very north of the site, it is about a half an hour's walk. However, tomorrow we have the tractor train operating, it is ten pounds each for the week, for as many rides as you want, and runs every hour,” she tells me.

I see the name Sonia on her badge and thank her for going out of the way to help me.

I nod my head. I am not bothered by a walk each day to the main entertainment area tomorrow. However, today, I could do without having to drag the cases, whilst carrying my large bag and holding onto Max, and his backpack, which is packed to the brim, because my son is freakishly strong for a five-year-old. Still, we are here, and very soon, we can get this holiday started.

I huff and puff as I drag two cases, Max walking with a spring in his step on the grass verge, chatting to his imaginary dog friend he has, as we make our way to our new home for the week. I paid a little extra for seven nights, rather than the four most people stay here for. After all, we have gone without for years, and Max deserves this treat. Finally, though, we get to the field and find our caravan. I opened the doors, hoisted the cases up the steps and slumped down on the large corner couch at the front of the caravan, desperately trying to catch my breath. Max, however, is full of beans and is currently running up and down the small corridor at the back of the caravan, looking in each of the rooms, talking to ‘Thrax’, his imaginary friend, who is a talking dog of some kind, so he tells me. It is uber cute, but makes me worry that he doesn’t spend enough time with kids his own age.

“Mammy, there is a big TV on the wall of your bedroom,” he excitedly shouts down at me.

“That is good,” I cannot help but smile at my son’s enthusiasm.

“Come on, let’s get unpacked. Which bedroom do you want?” I ask him.

Oh hell, why did I ask that? Now we are going to stand here between the two rooms that are available whilst he decides, then changes his mind, then changes it again. Only to get up in the middle of the night and crawl into my bed.

Whilst he is doing just that, I grab my case and begin to unpack. Although there is a fridge, freezer, cooker, hob and microwave, along with a toaster, and kettle, plus utensils and plates, there is no food here, and we are going to have to make the long walk back to the entertainment area to grab some foods and essentials for the morning in the small supermarket they have on site.

I finish unpacking my case, as Max is still undecided on which room he likes best. Seriously, my son and decisions are not a match made in heaven. Apparently, he is always arguing with 'Thrax' about which is the best choice.

“Why don’t we go down and get the shopping we need, and you decide when we get back? You can also have a run around in the soft play whilst we are down there,” I compromise with my boy, because seriously if I don’t move now, I will not move again till the morning, and we need food.

Finally, Max runs around the soft play. Seriously, I have no clue where he gets his energy from. However, being here gives him ample opportunity to enjoy the outdoors. He is a nature freak. In love with animals of all varieties. He wants a real dog, which may snap him out of the imaginary friend/dog he talks to constantly, but honestly, I do not have the time to walk one, or the extra cost for food and vet bills, should anything happen to it. It is the one thing his big blue eyes will not work with me for. We can live a lot better than we did, and I do not want to be back on the poverty line, because of an animal. Yeah, I may sound heartless, but it is the truth, I want to spend my spare cash on nice things, like this holiday, or days out for Max to enjoy. However, I have booked a couple of surprises while we are here. We are going to see the birds of prey tomorrow, and a nature trail tomorrow evening. The day after, I am taking Max horse riding, before he goes on a trip around the main lake on a paddle boat, then swimming in the afternoon. I cannot wait to see his little face light up when I tell him tomorrow what we have planned.

I managed to get Max out of the Soft Play, with a promise to stop at the play park area near the caravan on the way back, after we get our groceries. As we walked out of the entertainment area, the smell of fish and chips hits me like a tidal wave. My stomach grumbles, and my mouth waters.

“Hey, we can do the park, or…” I said to my son, who was looking longingly at the blue-fronted chip shop.

“We can get the shopping and some fish and chips and take them to the van for our tea tonight,” I gave him the option.

“Fish and Chips!” Max grins up at me.

Thank God. For once he is not indecisive, it is not usual for us to get takeaways, and it is a massive treat. It may be a little pricey, but at the end of the day, I cannot be bothered to stand and cook.

Finally, with our bellies full, and Max’s bedroom decided on, I quickly showered my child and got him into his PJs. It has been a long day and to be honest, I just want to kick off my shoes and relax. It is not long before he is yawning, and I carry him to bed. I smiled and wished him goodnight, missing the times when he was younger, and I could kiss him. But, as he tells me, he is a big boy and doesn’t like kisses now, so I ruffle his brown hair, which is a shade lighter than my own, and switch his nightlight on, and head to my bedroom, putting on the TV, laying back against the pillows and finally relax, thinking of all the fun things that we will do tomorrow.