Polinka Goes on Holiday
Copyright© 2026 by Clee Hill
Chapter 5
Even though she was just sixteen years old, Polinka knew that sometimes you might wake up quickly, sometimes slowly, and sometimes you couldn’t tell if you were awake or asleep and dreaming. So it was that Tuesday morning as she began to rouse, slowly gathering her thoughts.
Bright. Already. She had teased her Dad about how thin the curtains were, and they were. Enough for privacy but not enough for a lie-in.
Quiet. Outside was so quiet. No cars rumbling off to work. No tractors in the background. No military jets dashing around like enthusiastic metal swallows.
Oh. The birds. Polinka smiled at how different they were here. No wood pigeons to sound off like a wonky siren. Less sparrows, too, she guessed. A few she thought she recognised, a few she thought were new, none for certain as she had never really been that interested, enjoying the chorus without needing to know the names of the singers.
The bed, odd in many ways. The mattress was, of course, much more shallow than that on her bed back home. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t something she would be going home and asking her father if she could replace hers with either. The sheet was okay, too, as was the blanket, light and woven, enough to keep the chill off in the night but not like her heavy winter blanket, thrown over her duvet, and weighing her down like a hug.
Cracking her eyes a little to make sure, yes, she was still facing the driver’s side wall of the campervan, staring at the wood panelling, her feet down towards the rear of the van where the walls were covered in textured black plastic. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to represent but it looked fine, and it hadn’t been cold enough to wake her in the night when her feet must surely have brushed against it. Perhaps the blanket was better than she had imagined.
Taking another slow breath, Polinka began to realise that her father had snuggled up to her in the night, the thought making her smile. She used to sneak into her parents’ bed back when she was little, and it felt comforting to be in his arms and—
—Polinka held her breath, abruptly and totally awake now. She was more than in her father’s arms. Yes, he had snuggled up behind her in the night, but that meant she could feel his knob as it had nuzzled its way between the cheeks of her bum, and it was definitely that, not a leg, not a fold of clothing.
But that was not all.
At some point he had wrapped his arm around her, and though she still had her cami top on and it hadn’t ridden up or anything like that, she could see and feel her father’s hand as he was cupping her right tiddie, just ... holding it.
Crap!
She knew she had to do something and she knew she had to do it before he woke up and realised what was going on, but what? Without being told, without analysing, but without doubt she knew, if her father woke up and found himself holding her like that, he would be destroyed. He had been the perfect father, taking care of her, answering her questions, even guiding her through her first couple of periods, joking about how his browser history was destroyed as he had found out about the great Pads vs Tampons war, Polinka settling for tampons because she hated how like a nappy she imagined her one and only pad had felt. He had comforted her when she got the cramps, ran her a warm bath with bubbles and candles, and even threatened to break out the Enya and the whale song if necessary. He had been, was, and would always be the perfect single father to a growing young woman.
And now he was feeling her tiddie and had his knob up her bum.
She knew he wouldn’t really see it that way, and she would make absolutely sure he knew that wasn’t how she felt about it, either, but she knew, if he ever found it, he would feel like he had failed as her father, as the one person she could always and utterly trust.
What to do?
Is she moved, it might wake him.
If she said anything, he would know.
She wasn’t sure and maddeningly couldn’t remember if he was a light sleeper or not, but she was praying not as she tried not to let her heart beat so fast that that was what woke him.
But she still needed to move, as soon as possible, and without him finding out how they had slept.
How to move fast...?
Yes!
Sneeze!
That way she be sitting up, sneezing, and it would be so fast that even if her father thought about it afterwards, he would never be sure whether he had been lying up close to her, or if he had reacted by instinct on hearing her sneeze.
Okay. So. To do this, she needed to roll around and under so that her tiddie slipped out of his hand and she was sitting up, sneezing. Closing her eyes for a moment she visualised it, smiling at the irony of her wearing her satin cami set, meaning that she would be able to move a lot more swiftly than if she had been lying there nude, which she would never do.
1... 2... 3...
“Uh-oof!” she gasped, wriggling out and sitting up, free and clear, just like she had planned.
“Polinka?” Stephen asked, sounding very startled not to be asleep.
“Sorry, Dad,” she said, look for the tissues, finding them, and not as gently as she could have done blowing her nose. “Pollen,” she said, making a show of making sure her nose was clear.
“I didn’t think you got hay fever,” he said, waking, sitting ... and wonderfully not showing any signs that he knew what he had been doing seconds ago.
“Me either! Maybe, haha, sleeping surrounded by gorse and grass kind of helped it.”
“So not the sheep?”
“Dad! They’ll hear!”
“Ah. What time...?”
Polinka scooted around, kneeling up as she reached for her phone and woke it up. “Ten to six.”
“Do you want to get up now?” he asked, clearly hoping her answer was ‘no’.
“Can we cuddle?” she asked, realising how she almost ached for his embrace again. “I didn’t know sleeping with someone was so... nice.”
“You slept well?” he asked as she snuggled up to him where they were sitting, her head on his shoulder and it just felt so good this morning, better than ever.
Polinka nodded cheerfully. “You?”
Stephen smiled. “The best in years.”
“Well, we shall have to do this again. Tonight. And tomorrow. And lots more tomorrows. But tonight, we swap sides. I’m smaller, so I’ll fit better that side than you do.”
“I don’t mind...”
“I know, but I also know you’re doing it to be all ‘gallant’ and ‘gentlemanly’ and probably other words starting with ‘g’ too. Glissando? Gormenghastically?” she giggled, remembering and reaching for another tissue and another, gentler, blow, Stephen looking away as she did.
“Gormenghastically?” he asked once she had stopped.
“Yeah. You know, just goes on and on, like, Dad, you don’t need to sleep uncomfortably, but daughter, I must, I must, I must. So. Gormenghastically.”
“I’m impressed you know what Gormenghast even is.”
Polinka shrugged. “Castle, extra large, weirdness to go,” she grinned.
“You’ve read it?”
“Nope. Read the Goodreads but no flying saucer so nah,” she giggled. “Er, Dad?”
“Yes?”
“You know we’re on the top of a mountain, nothing but green stuff that gets up my nose and sheep who’re hiding suspiciously...?”
“And?”
“I don’t have to dress to go out and pee do I? Can I just put my trainers on and go hide somewhere?”
Stephen chuckled. “I think we’re safe up here.”
“Cool. You, hah, okay if I go first?” she asked, inspiration hitting her that, distracted by her going for a pee, he might forget about the rest.
“Of course. I can put the bed back while you’re gone.”
“Best Dad ever,” she smiled, reaching up a little to kiss him on the cheek before she was up, Stephen getting up and out of her way as she found her trainers, the wet wipes, and a nappy sack. Unlocking the door, she paused momentarily to confirm they were alone before she was out and off, heading for the same place as last night where she did the awkward crouch, wiped, packed, and was back just in time to help Stephen fold up the bedding as they stepped outside with it to shake off the dust. Or something.
“We dressing for breakfast?” she asked.
“After last night, I think maybe we should, don’t you?”
“You know I couldn’t really see anything, right?”
“I knew, but it was a bit of a surprise to hear you talking like that.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly. I need to learn, you’re not a little girl any more.”
“Still am. Sometimes,” she said, cuddling up to him again, their kiss, this time, longer, lazier, and lippier.
“Just be you, Biscuit.”
“Oh I am. Now, hurry up so I can get dressed into ... Dad? I promise I’ll keep it buttoned up properly, but if I tie a blouse into a halter, can I not wear a bra today? It’s warm already and they just make, hah, ‘things’ worse.”
“That bad?”
She nodded.
“I trust you, so yes, Biscuit, if that will make things easier for you, of course you can.”
“Thanks Dad! So tea and, er, sandwiches for breakfast?”
“You’ll have time for all of that?”
“Taking the trowel?” she smirked.
Stephen shook his head.
“At least I can get dressed,” she said. “Then I’ll, ahem, ‘step outside’ for a moment so you can get dressed, then we open the curtains, and then we can have breakfast.”
“You’ve got it all planned?”
“Hope so. A fortnight in a campervan, there’s a lot to think about,” she said, smiling inwardly at the implications of her words, that smile fading a little as she wondered what would happen tonight, and whether she could get lucky for the next two weeks of Stephen not finding out.
“I’m sure we’ll muddle through,” he said, making a show of not taking the trowel as he headed off, leaving Polinka to close the doors and quickly change, just getting her cami set packed back into her suitcase as there was a gentle knocking on the door.
“Done!” she announced, pushing the door open, Stephen opening it the rest of the way as he saw how she had dressed for the day and smiled.
“Tennis?” he asked, Polinka having put on a white box pleated skirt that wasn’t a tennis skirt but its dressier cousin. She had matched this, as agreed, with a blouse, also white, with seashells and seahorses and other sea-creatures on it, all in blue like a china plate. She had rolled the long sleeves up to her elbows, and had haltered it, leaving the top couple of buttons undone but those over her chest still fastened; the knot was a triple, just in case.
“No, cool.”
“Cool as in...?”
“No, Dad! Not that cool, haha, just ... breezy,” she winked, Stephen looking a little relieved. “Your turn. I’m hungry.”
“Okay, but I as thinking, instead of sandwiches in the campervan, we could go find a café or a coffee shop.”
“Bacon sandwiches?” Polinka asked, eyes wide with excitement.
“You know, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“See! That’s why you need me. Now, hurry up so we can get Nicky back on the road,” she said as they did just that, not quite being the first at the little café they found just outside of Builth Wells, but certainly there before most.
In the end they spent most of the morning in Builth Wells, restocking a little for the evening to come, walking around a town they had never visited or even passed through before, and, sadly for Polinka, failing to find anything of interest in the local shops.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered as they headed back for Nicky.
“What doesn’t?” Stephen asked as they walked, arm in arm, some pies, some cakes, and some crisps in the bags in their free hands.
“The local shops. The charity shops. That little touristy shop. Nothing.”
“Nothing meaning...?”
“Dad? You said you’d researched where to bring us.”
“I did. This was a ‘moderate’ hotspot, or at least it is over at the Usk Reservoir where we’re headed tonight.”
“For?” she hinted.
“Flying saucers.”
“And?”
“And?”
“And ... nothing, not even a ‘I went to Usk Reservoir and all I got was a lousy cliché’ tee-shirt.”
“As opposed to...?”
“Getting abducted!”
“That’s something people want?”
“Yes! You can sell your story for the rest of your life. Books. Podcasts. Conferences. Public spats with other abductees. You know, the whole echidna.”
“Don’t you mean enchilada?”
“No. They get abducted too,” Polinka teased, looking left and right as if she might be overheard.
“Ah. I see. So will we be safe there tonight?”
Polinka shrugged. “Don’t know. There’s been no reports for a few years now, but back in the last century it really had a moment.”
“Last century?”
“You know, the 1970s.”
“That’s not last century,” Stephen insisted. “You do know I was born in the 1980s.”
“Dad, that’s forty years ago.”
Stephen groaned, making Polinka giggle. “So what happened here?”
“Oh, the usual. Lights in the sky that didn’t move right to be a plane. They happened three times in a fortnight, the MoD claimed it wasn’t them, and that was that. No photos, just a farmer claiming ‘he knew what he seed’. Ten years later, same thing, same dates. Nobody realised it Day One, but Day Two and Day Three, there were blurry photos. Some stories start coming out, you know, Welsh Triangle stuff, haha, that it was a scheduled visit by aliens whose planet is in the right place or something only every ten years. So everyone waited for ten years again, but this time, probably nothing but the weather was bad that week, lots of clouds. So that’s ‘76, ‘86, and ‘96. In 2006 there wasn’t much interest and there was only one person who claimed he’d seen them, but his photos were rubbish and he was, ahem, unreliably fuelled on beer. Nobody saw anything in ‘16 so now, if anyone remembers, we’re about due for something next year.”
Stephen shook his head. “How do you remember all this?”
“I don’t.”
“But—”
“—But when I found out where we were staying, I Googled the locations on my phone. I think I read about the Usk Reservoir Lights somewhere once, but,” she paused and shrugged. “It’s not exactly Independence Day, is it.”
“I hope not,” Stephen chuckled. “So you think we will be safe there tonight?”
“Dad, we’re always safe,” she said as they came to the carpark where Nicky was being admired but a couple of middle aged men.
Stephen smiled to them as they put their things in the back, got in, and started off, the Sat-Nav on his tablet programmed for Usk Reservoir but it not being decided where they would stay yet, depending how busy it was and where they could find a private place to park for the night. “You really don’t believe any of it, do you?”
“Yes and no. Sometimes what gets seen is just too weird to be explained by what ‘we’ know, but most of it is just natural phenomena and military jets, including the ones they don’t admit to until decades later. Could any of it be ‘real’? Sure, but it’s not likely, just ask any scientist about the problems of getting here from anywhere else. Either there’s ways to trample all over Einstein we don’t know about, or it’s just not from elsewhere.”
“I see.”
“Of course, if it’s stargates or magical portals, anything is possible then,” she grinned, winking to him to let him know she was joking. Mostly.
“Any reports of those in the area?”
“Nope, but if there were and people were getting snatched, how would we know, Dad? How would we know?” she asked, sounding like a very bad YouTuber. “Doesn’t matter; I love this,” she said, smiling, wriggling over as close as she could, which really wasn’t very given how the passenger side seats and the driver’s seat were physically separate.
“This?”
“You. Me. Talking this stuff. Driving around the country lanes in Nicky. Just being ... us. No work for you. No school for me. Just, just us.”
“It’s not like when we go on holiday normally?”
“Nope. There we’re going somewhere to be there and do that holiday. Here we’re being us doing our thing. Much different.”
“And better?”
“Mostly,” she giggled. “Though the beaches on the Med are sooo much better, dahling,” she joked.
“Wanting a tan?”
“Well those bikinis aren’t for nothing,” she grinned.
“Going to change when we arrive?”
“Ooh! I could, couldn’t I?”
“If you want.”
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. Did you bring anything you could sun tan in?”
“Just my usual shorts.”
“You mean the ones you pretend you don’t iron those creases into,” she teased, Stephen meaning a pair of cotton trousers, almost knee length, with pockets, turn ups, and, yes, creases. Shockingly neat ones, too.
“You don’t approve?”
“Only if you’re taking me somewhere where they have a dress code, haha. Seriously, Dad, you need a tan too. We should get you something ... appropriate but, haha, also appropriate for your daughter to see you wearing.”
“We can have a look tomorrow.”
“You’re going to sunbathe with me?” she asked, not believing he would, it not really being a ‘Dad’ thing.
“I was thinking of reading rather than just lying there, but yes, I think we can find a nice spot for that tomorrow evening.”
“Cool,” Polinka grinned, knowing to let her father concentrate a little as the roads began to narrow, got narrower still, and, finally, really took the whole narrow thing far too far, really, the road not much wider than they were as they came to the reservoir.
“Left or right?” Stephen asked as they looked at the signs, the warnings, and the fact that this road wasn’t all that wide either.
“Left.”
“Any reason?”
“Nope. Just, left.”
“Left it is,” Stephen smiled as they began to drive around the perimeter of the reservoir, Polinka craning to get a good look, it being a lot bigger than she had imagined, even from the photos she’d seen on her phone.
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