The Happy Glampers. Daisy Tate
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THE HAPPY GLAMPERS
Daisy Tate
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published as e-book in serial in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019
This e-book edition 2020
Copyright © Daisy Tate 2019
Cover illustration © Jacqueline Bissett
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Daisy Tate asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008313005
Ebook Edition © June 2020 ISBN: 9780008313012
Version: 2020-04-06
For Jorja and Grissom
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Keep Reading
About the Author
About the Publisher
‘Cake!’
Everyone cheered as Charlotte slid the very last cake they would ever eat as university flatmates onto the table. She dropped a shy curtsey and stood back, watching as they plunged their forks into the huge lemon drizzle. No plates. No serviettes. No ‘you firsts’. Just pure, unadulterated, last-day-of-uni bliss.
She’d miss uni. She’d miss her friends. These last three years had been the first time in her life she’d felt as if she mattered. As if all of her silly hopes and dreams might have a splash of validity. London, she worried, could very well prove her parents right. That taking a ‘useless degree’ in art history would land her one job and one job only: cleaner.
‘Ohmigawd, Charlotte. This is ah-mazing!’ Izzy’s mid-Atlantic accent cranked west as she sang out, ‘I’m surfing my nirvana waves!’
‘Izz. Your bit’s at that end.’ Charlotte always made one end gooier than the other because Freya liked