Everything you need

“What a lovely camping tent you have here,” the woman says to her. Carry thanks the newcomer for the compliment. The two women are standing in silence. The sun is burning their skin. The ground is dusty. It hasn’t been raining for four weeks.

“Have you been at this campsite for long?” the woman wants to know. Carry takes a step back. She smells her own body sweat. She says that they have had this place for one week now. And without being asked, she tells her how nice this camping site is. Spacious places, a nice clean swimming pool, a large canteen.

“We got up for this in the southern part of France. We drove all night. We happened to pass this campsite,” the woman says. She smells of warm marshmallow and toasted sesame.

Carry sees the recreational vehicle standing there in broad daylight. A large luxury bus. Everyone at the campsite saw it coming. The monster struggled to get past the narrow entrance. And it took quite a while before the fancy RV had made the turn to get to the field with the caravans, camping tents and trailer tents.

“Mama, mama! When are we going to eat?” Carry’s eldest daughter pulls her mother’s arm. As if she wants to tear a branch off a tree.

Carry strokes her child’s wet hair. The kid has just been in the swimming pool. And as the daughter dribbles away, she hears a baby crying. The youngest. He is only three months old.

“If you are too busy, you have to say so,” says the woman. She is wearing a salmon-coloured skort, a spotless white T-shirt with a square neck, sneakers with thick soles. Carry’s eyes slide over her own clothes. The Primarkt T-shirt, short frayed jeans, worn-out flip-flops. Don’t forget the multiple spit-up stains.

Carry slips into the tent. Sweat slides down her armpits. She picks the child up from the bed and starts singing, comforting, rocking. When she is outside, the little boy is already asleep again. He lies tenderly against her sticky breasts. Like a koala.

“I hardly dare ask,” says Carry, “but can I take a look inside your motorhome? Or do you call this RV a bus? ” The woman points to the child and asks if he doesn’t need care? But the mother brushes it off. In the meantime, she walks towards the luxury bus.

The woman enters the code into the keyboard next to the shiny door. She lets her neighbour get in first. Carry feels a cold breeze blowing along her thin T-shirt. She gets goosebumps on her upper arms. She hasn’t been this cool and refreshing in weeks.

“The air conditioning is still on,” says the woman. She points to the various functionalities in the vehicle. The built-in smart LED TV, the thin Bluetooth speakers in the ceiling, climate control.

As they walk through the recreational vehicle, Carry’s eyes widen. The kitchen with ceramic hobs, espresso machine and handcrafted oven, the shower cabin with copper taps and underfloor heating.

She doesn’t dare ask how much the RV is. She suspects it is at least twice as expensive as the terraced house she lives in.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” the woman asks. She opens the man-sized red American fridge. Coke, beer, wine, cloudy apple juice. Is there even champagne in one of the glass shelves?

“My husband is currently unemployed,” says Carry as she sits down on the light velvet sofa. Her glass of coke is on the chrome table next to a bowl with grapes. The woman sips her white wine.

“He is an administrator,” explains Carry. “But he was laid off due to a recent reorganization. The work has been taken over by people from India and Hungary. And by various AI systems.”

Why am I telling you all this, thinks Carry. Am I impressed? Do I feel guilty? In the meantime, she can’t take her eyes off all the luxury around her. What would it be like to be so rich? To not have to worry about medical expenses, broken cars, leaking roofs?

The baby starts to cry. Is it hungry? The woman reaches out her hands. Her eyes ask. Can I hold him for a little while?

The woman strokes the baby’s soft, red cheeks. Her eyes sparkle. "I would give up anything to have this," she murmurs.