No-one Ever Has Sex on Holiday: A totally hilarious summer read

by Bloom, Tracy

  ‘You really had no idea then?’ said Katy.

  ‘No,’ said Ollie, picking his drink up and looking as if he didn’t want to talk about it any more.

  ‘I’ll design something to cover it up,’ offered Daniel. ‘Something you’ll be proud of. It’s what I do,’ he added. ‘Let me take a picture and I’ll come up with something that will make sense.’ He reached inside his trouser pocket for his phone.

  ‘I’m not getting it out again,’ said Ollie grimly, staring up at the TV screen, making it clear that the subject was closed.

  ‘Well, let me know if you change your mind,’ Daniel replied, putting his phone away again. ‘Anytime.’

  Katy watched as the arrival of someone momentarily distracted two men at the bar. She saw one nudge the other and indicate towards the door. Katy turned to look at what had captured their attention only to find Abby strutting towards them in the most spectacularly tight dress, displaying the most spectacular cleavage. She looked sensational. Katy gulped. Her cotton dress and sparkly flip-flops would look horrifically dowdy next to the sexpot walking towards them.

  Katy turned to look at Braindead, who had seen his wife enter the room but had a very blank expression on his face like he wasn’t really seeing her. Sure, Abby had always been a glamour puss but this was a grade above even by her standards. This was Love Island level that took your breath away. Skin-tight clothing, towering heels and immaculate, if abundant, make-up. Her naturally wavy blonde hair had also been ironed perfectly straight, giving her that sleek sexy look that you rarely saw on the mother of a fifteen-month-old.

  ‘Who is that?’ Katy heard Ollie mutter. ‘She’s new.’

  ‘That’s my wife,’ said Braindead, standing up. ‘You look great,’ he told her, taking a step forward and kissing her cheek.

  ‘Do you think?’ she said, suddenly looking a bit nervous.

  ‘Definitely,’ he nodded before the match on the screen distracted him. ‘Do you have enough cash with you, and is your phone fully charged?’ he asked her, still looking at the screen.

  ‘Yes,’ said Abby. ‘Of course. I have been out on the town before, you know.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Braindead, sitting down, still unable to drag his eyes away from the football.

  Everyone hovered. Katy glanced at Ben, who pulled a face.

  ‘So shall we go then?’ said Abby, turning her back on everyone.

  ‘Yes,’ said Daniel, getting up and straightening his trousers. ‘Let’s, shall we?’ He held his arm up for Abby, who took it whilst smoothing down her hair for the trillionth time. ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ he said over his shoulder to Ben and Braindead. ‘I’ll look after these two vixens and I’ll be sure to have them home by midnight.’

  ‘Midnight!’ chimed Katy and Abby.

  ‘There’s no way I can stay out until midnight,’ said Katy, already feeling like this was going to be the longest night ever.

  ‘There’s no way I’m coming back before midnight,’ said Abby. ‘Nowhere gets going round here before midnight. It’s going to be late,’ she told Braindead. ‘I’ll see you when I see you.’

  ‘Right,’ said Braindead. He grabbed Katy’s arm just as she was about to head away. ‘Look after her,’ he said. ‘Won’t you?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she replied.

  He nodded and turned back to the football.

  Chapter Twelve

  The three of them didn’t say much as they walked out of the hotel and into the fading sunlight. Katy felt apprehensive. What with Braindead’s words ringing in her ears, and Abby’s look of utter determination on her face, Katy didn’t think she had any power whatsoever to influence how the night might turn out.

  ‘Not sure what to expect, are you?’ said Katy in an effort to make conversation.

  ‘Trashy and tarty,’ said Daniel, ‘that’s what I reckon.’

  ‘Great,’ groaned Katy.

  ‘But good trashy and tarty,’ added Daniel. ‘Unapologetic, honest, authentic trashy and tarty.’

  ‘Is that a thing?’ asked Katy.

  ‘Of course it’s a thing,’ said Daniel. ‘There are fashionistas the world over trying to recreate the trash/tart look but it’s false, it’s dishonest, it lacks truth. These fashion bloggers just need to follow a hen do in Spain and then they’ll get it. They’ll get that trashy and tarty belongs in the British bars of the Mediterranean and not in the likes of Hoxton and Shoreditch.’

  ‘Have you been saving that speech for this moment?’ asked Katy.

  ‘I have to admit that I was mulling it over in bed last night whilst Gabriel settled Silvie. I might post it online when I get home. Put a little Instagram post together. I could take some pictures tonight, how good would that be? We could do a little vlog about it. Compare the fashions of the Irish bar vis-à-vis the English bar, see if we can discover any discernible differences that might be of interest to the great fashion-buying public.’

  ‘You do talk utter bullshit sometimes,’ muttered Katy.

  ‘How about you, Abby? Fancy starring in my vlog? You’d make a great frontman for the mini documentary that will be called “Two Women and a Gay Man Go on a Stranger’s Hen Night”. Got a ring to it, don’t you think? Sounds intriguing, interesting, mysterious. Why are they going on a stranger’s hen night? What will happen, will they all come out alive?’

  Abby wasn’t answering, just looking far off into the distance. Katy and Daniel exchanged looks.

  ‘Right, let’s have a picture,’ declared Daniel, leaping out in front of them and whipping his phone out. ‘Before and after, hey?’

  They stood in a line whilst Daniel stretched his arm out in front of them in order to fit in their grinning heads.

  ‘Say “chocolate penis”,’ he declared. ‘I tell you what, I was made to go on a hen night. I’ve got all the right phrases.’

  He put his phone away and they carried on walking past the already filling up bars and restaurants. Everyone looked lively, way too lively, whereas Katy felt anything but.

  ‘I don’t know about you guys,’ she said, ‘but I’m all up for sloping off at a sensible hour. I’m sure Cassie won’t miss us if we bail early. It’s not like she really knows us, is it? Can’t quite believe she’s so keen for us to be there in the first place, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m staying out,’ said Abby. ‘I’m staying out until the end.’

  ‘Right, okay,’ said Katy.

  ‘You don’t have to stay though,’ said Abby, turning to look at her. ‘I’ll be fine. You go home whenever you want.’

  * * *

  The participants on the hen night were well away by the time Katy, Daniel and Abby found the bar they were meeting in.

  Abby, who had been reserved and quiet during their ten-minute walk, approached the group like long-lost friends, throwing her arms in the air and hugging each and every one of them whilst Katy looked on awkwardly.

  Katy was also horrified to see that they were all in co-ordinated outfits. Each one was wearing some kind of eighties neon nightmare in the form of leotards or leggings and leg warmers and, worst of all, towelling headbands. Even their drinks were co-ordinated as they all sipped on huge glasses of bright green cocktails.

  ‘I didn’t realise there was a dress code,’ said Daniel, throwing his arms in the air, waving in distress at his linen outfit.

  ‘You’re here!’ cried Cassie, dashing up to them. ‘You’re here,’ she said again, engulfing Katy in her arms. ‘I’m so glad you are here.’

  ‘Well, we were delighted to be invited,’ said Katy politely, thinking that at this very moment she would rather be anywhere else other than spending the evening with this much Lycra.

  ‘You don’t have to do anything Ruth tells you to,’ Cassie told her urgently. ‘Honestly. Just say no. But you’ll need to be firm.’

  Ruth walked over to them in an ill-fitting pink leotard, black leggings, green leg warmers and a big blonde wig.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said as she approached. ‘We bought yo
u some accessories to make sure you didn’t feel left out.’ She delved in a bag and dragged out three neon towelling headbands and three pairs of neon mesh gloves. Daniel looked at them in horror.

  ‘It’s an eighties theme,’ Ruth told him.

  ‘Oh I get that,’ he replied. ‘But why?’

  ‘Because on the hour every hour we shall be performing an aerobics routine to “Let’s Get Physical” by Olivia Newton-John. No matter where we are or what we are doing, we must be together and we must do the routine. Now you have a pass out of the first one seeing as it’s very nearly eight o'clock. You can watch how it’s done and then Rachel has agreed that she will take you round the back and teach it to you.’

  Daniel and Katy stared at her, gobsmacked. Then they stared at each other and then back at Ruth.

  ‘No, I don’t think—’ began Katy.

  ‘There’s always a theme, you see,’ interrupted Ruth, ‘and there always has to be a dance. Last year for Marnie’s we came as ringmasters with canes and did The Greatest Showman. You should have seen the crowd that gathered at two in the morning outside McDonald’s in Tenerife and filmed us. We even got on YouTube. Can you believe it? Hopefully someone will spot us this time and put us on again. We could become YouTube sensations.’ Ruth grinned at them as she grabbed her drink and took a massive slurp.

  Katy could feel Daniel shuddering. He looked down at the towelling ring in his hands and she thought he might cry.

  Ruth glanced at her watch and, to the horror of both Katy and Daniel, took a whistle out of the neon yellow bumbag attached to her waist. She poised the whistle at her lips as she stared down at her watch. They could see her nodding the seconds down until she looked up and blew hard. Everyone in the group downed their drinks, slapped the glasses on the tables and made their way to a clearing at the front of the bar, where the inhabitants and also those passing by could see them.

  Ruth reached down behind her and lifted a huge ghetto blaster up, handing it to Daniel.

  ‘Would you press play on my signal?’ she said.

  Daniel nodded numbly, clearly not quite believing what he was seeing.

  Ruth walked over to the group and stood in front of them with her arm raised. They shuffled into two lines, some of them shaking out limbs as if warming up. Cassie was at the back, trying to hide behind everyone else.

  Ruth blew her whistle again and nodded at Daniel, who glanced at Katy, horrified, before cautiously pressing down on the play button.

  The eighties track filled the air as Olivia Neutron-Bomb’s voice emerged. In front of them the group started to sway and then went into a full-on Grapevine followed by star jumps, which certainly caught the attention of the assembled male drinkers.

  ‘Oh my God,’ muttered Daniel, clutching at Katy’s arm. ‘Is this really happening or am I having some weird retro dream? I’ve kind of always had a thing about Olivia Newton-John. That’s why I’m seeing this, isn’t it?’ he said to her, a desperate look in his eyes. ‘I’m seeing this because I have a deep-down fetish for Olivia and it’s resurfacing now in my worst possible nightmare.’

  ‘You had a thing for Olivia Newton-John?’ she asked him, astonished.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ replied Daniel. ‘Who wouldn’t? All those headbands and hair ribbons and then the leather skin-tight catsuit. I mean, seriously?’

  Katy looked back to where the hen party were doing burpees, some of them starting to sweat in the heat and the Lycra.

  ‘I’m sorry to tell you that this is real,’ said Katy, putting her hands on his shoulders. ‘You are standing in a bar in Spain about to embark on a night out with a bunch of women who on the hour every hour will be telling you to don a fluorescent yellow headband and perform a choreographed fitness routine to “Let’s Get Physical” for all the world to see.’

  ‘You know there is only one way of dealing with this, don’t you?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Agreed,’ replied Katy.

  ‘Should we start with shots?’ he asked.

  ‘Several,’ said Katy, glancing at her watch. ‘We only have an hour to numb the pain.’

  * * *

  It was after ten o clock before they sat down to eat. Katy had been treading the very thin line of being drunk enough on an empty stomach for the hourly dance performance but sober enough to maintain some degree of control. Despite Cassie’s promise, saying no to Ruth had proved to be impossible. During their first performance, she had physically dragged Katy and Daniel to the front of the line-up and held their hands in a vice-like grip until the torture was over. Cassie had looked on apologetically but powerlessly. It was possibly the hardest night out Katy had ever been on. She was alternating between sipping drinks and then downing them faster than lemonade as each performance loomed. She hoped that now they were sitting down to eat that perhaps they would be here for at least an hour and that the eleven o’clock showing would be forgotten.

  It was utter chaos trying to order. Eventually the waiter stood on a chair and shouted at them all to shut up, which they did until he began to repeat back their choices and then they heckled him until he threw his hands in the air and stood down. Katy watched as Daniel put his hand on the poor lad’s arm and told him just to bring what he thought they had ordered and put it in the middle of the table. No-one cared what they were eating, they were only interested in the jugs of sangria that were a bit too slow in appearing.

  After the waiter scampered off, Ruth took his position on the chair and blew her whistle. The whole table went quiet.

  ‘Now let’s have a bit of hush here, shall we?’ she said. ‘Time for some serious business. So, we all know why we are here,’ she began.

  ‘To get pissed and feel men’s arses,’ one woman piped up.

  ‘Down you,’ shouted Ruth back. ‘Down you, or else I will be ringing your husband.’

  ‘Oh, the bastard will be fiddling with his bits and pieces somewhere, he won’t care about me feeling some arses this weekend.’

  Daniel raised his eyebrows at Katy.

  ‘Now, now, we need to be setting a good example, don’t we, which is exactly what we are going to do next. I’m handing round some pieces of paper and pens and I want you all to write down your best piece of advice for Cassie as she embarks on married life.’

  ‘Don’t do it,’ someone piped up. ‘I wish someone had said that to me before I’d got married.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Ruth. ‘For those of you who are already married, you also need to write down what the best thing about getting married is. Got it? Now I’m going to blow my whistle and then you will have two minutes to write everything down and then we will read them out. So, on your marks, get set, go.’

  She blew her whistle and sat herself back down at the table.

  ‘She’s a hen party Nazi,’ Daniel whispered in Katy’s ear. ‘We need to execute a great escape. I’m not enjoying this.’

  ‘Well, Abby certainly is,’ said Katy, nodding to where Abby was sitting opposite them, nestled between two girls who had taken her under their wing. They had included her on their first round of Jägerbombs and after that it had been as though they had been separated at birth as they’d giggled their way round the bars of Spain. Katy had stalked Abby into the toilets earlier just to get her alone and to see if she was okay and been dismissed with an ‘Why on earth would I not be okay? I’m having the time of my life.’ Then she had stumbled out of the bathroom and not talked to her since.

  ‘Can’t we leave her?’ said Daniel. ‘She’s a big girl.’

  Katy looked over to where Abby and her new mates were downing half pints of sangria.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘Let’s see how things stand after the meal.’

  Katy glanced over at Cassie, who had been put at the head of the table by Ruth. She looked resigned and had by no means clamoured to be centre of all the attention. In fact, most of the time she was doing her best to fade into the background.

  The whistle sounded out loud and clear yet again, causing Katy to jump. Sh
e was really sick of that whistle. She might have to steal it and wrap it around Ruth’s neck.

  ‘So who’s going to start then?’ Ruth asked. ‘Shall we begin with you, Bridget?’ she said to the girl right beside her.

  Bridget frowned and picked up her piece of paper.

  ‘I’m not married,’ she announced.

  ‘Because you are scary as hell and every bloke I know is scared shitless of you,’ shouted out another girl.

  ‘Fuck off,’ said Bridget, standing up and pointing a neon mesh-covered finger at her.

  ‘It’s true,’ the other girl replied. ‘My Tony said you eat balls for breakfast.’

  ‘I’d eat his if he had any,’ declared Bridget.

  ‘You leave my Tony alone,’ said the other girl, standing up.

  ‘Now, now, girls,’ said Daniel, standing up too and raising his hands. ‘Tonight is all about Cassie and not Tony’s balls so shall we get back to what we’re here for? Would you both like to sit down?’

  Both women looked at him in awe then meekly sat down.

  ‘Continue, Bridget,’ said Daniel, taking his seat again.

  ‘Well done,’ whispered Katy.

  ‘A gay man can diffuse a bitch fight quicker than a dose of salt can evaporate a slug. Did you know that?’ he said, turning towards her. ‘You put salt on a slug and it just dissolves, just like that.’

  Katy stared at him as she heard them being shushed by the gathering around them.

  Bridget cleared her throat and looked at Cassie.

  ‘My advice to you is be yourself,’ she said before swallowing hard. ‘Stay being Cassie. Don’t change.’

  She sat down abruptly to near silence.

  Daniel stood up and gave her a massive round of applause.

  ‘Excellent work,’ he declared. ‘Excellent.’

  ‘That’s good,’ agreed Ruth. ‘Now next we have Heather.’

  Heather stood up and giggled, casting her eyes around the table.

  ‘Just remember,’ she said. ‘Marriage isn’t perfect…’ She paused, as there was much muttering about the table from those who were married. ‘It’s just two imperfect people who refuse to give up on each other.’