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

by Bloom, Tracy

  ‘Oh,’ said Braindead.

  ‘I hated family holidays,’ she continued. ‘Couldn’t wait until I could go away with my mates.’

  ‘Right,’ said Braindead. He gazed out to sea wondering how on earth he was going to retrieve the situation.

  ‘I, er, booked us all on a day trip tomorrow, by the way,’ he added after the awkward pause. ‘Exclusive private beach and barbeque just up the coast. Oh, and they said they also provide some amazing local entertainment. Should be great. Logan’s going to love it.’

  Abby nodded. ‘If you think he should have another Magnum then go and get him one,’ she said eventually.

  ‘I think I will,’ said Braindead, getting up. ‘You all right here whilst I have another go?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, picking up Logan’s spade with a long sigh.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben wasn’t really looking forward to his night of freedom any more, especially when he arrived down at the bar to meet Braindead and Ollie and saw the really miserable looks on both of their faces. Katy had told him to let his hair down. Have a good time. He deserved it. But the truth was that he was knackered. Right at this moment he would have swapped a night out on the beers for a full night’s sleep any day of the week.

  Gabriel had shown them all up by persuading Katy to babysit Silvie so that he and Daniel could enjoy a night alone together. They had virtually skipped out of the hotel on their way to a restaurant for a meal with just the two of them. ‘Without a high chair or pelican bib in sight,’ Daniel had declared joyfully as he kissed Silvie on the head before they left her in Katy’s arms as Abby tried to organise something on the iPad to keep Millie, Jack and Logan amused.

  So the boys’ night out was all down to Ben. He had to be the key motivator this evening. The one to get everyone’s spirits up. The one to help find Ollie a holiday romance somewhere in the midst of this sea of ‘young people’ that were out there frequenting the bars and clubs outside of the family resort they were hiding in. The one to stop Braindead pining for his son and the family holiday ideal that was not happening due to his wife’s defection to a hen party. He took a deep breath and stifled a yawn.

  ‘So, comrades,’ he said, slapping them both on the back. ‘Are we ready to take this town by storm?’ he asked.

  They both groaned.

  ‘Down those drinks and let’s head out.’

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later they were sitting in the Irish bar surrounded by men watching golf on huge screens. They barely spoke to each other for at least an hour apart from to say, ‘Pint?’ There was a play-off, for which all three of them were grateful. Another three holes during which they didn’t have to talk to each other, didn’t have to make conversation. Just watch a screen and drink pints.

  But inevitably someone did win and lifted a trophy, leaving them staring at each other, knowing that the night’s main event could be put off no longer. Ben felt the weight of the responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He would do anything for one of them to say, ‘Shall we just head home and have an early night?’

  ‘Shall we just head home and have an early night?’ suggested Ollie.

  Thank the lord, thought Ben, he’d be in bed within the half hour with a bit of luck.

  ‘What do you mean, have an early night?’ said Braindead, as though someone had just shot him through with adrenaline. His eyes were wide and staring, a look of incredulity on his face. ‘We’re out, out,’ he continued. ‘Boys out together on the lash. We have a free pass.’ He looked around him as though he had noticed his surroundings for the first time. ‘And what are we doing still in here? It’s full of blokes. We’re not going to find a nice young lady for Ollie in the Irish bar, are we? Look at these losers. They’re only in here because they know they haven’t got a cat in hell’s chance of pulling. Ugly twats.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Braindead,’ said Ben, hustling him out. ‘Talk about taking your life into your own hands.’

  Ollie stumbled after them. ‘You don’t have to take me out, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ declared Braindead grimly. ‘Yes, we do.’

  * * *

  ‘What about her?’ said Braindead fifteen minutes later when they found themselves in a packed bar with a jumping dance floor. Ben had spent ten minutes trying to get a drink whilst Braindead and Ollie cased the joint. Ben arrived back with three bottles of Bud.

  ‘What’s this crap?’ asked Braindead, looking incredulously at the bottles of lager.

  ‘No beer, mate, and I didn’t fancy my chances walking through this lot with three plastic pints in my hands. So sup this and shut up.’

  ‘Thanks, Ben,’ said Ollie, taking a swig and then looking around nervously.

  ‘So?’ asked Ben. ‘Any useful sightings?’

  ‘It’s a horror show,’ said Braindead. ‘I can’t look,’ he added, shielding his eyes. ‘They’re all semi-naked and… and… young… and I feel like a complete letch. I want to keep pointing at Ollie and saying, “I’m with him, I’m married with a baby. Please ignore me.”’

  ‘What about you?’ Ben asked Ollie.

  He shrugged. ‘I just don’t know where to start. I’m really not sure if this is a good idea.’

  ‘No,’ said Braindead. ‘Come on. We need to get you back in the game. Her over there, look. She’s on her own. She looks a bit lost. She looks achievable.’

  ‘Achievable?’ questioned Ollie.

  ‘You know, not so pretty that she’s just going to laugh in your face,’ said Braindead, taking another swig of his bottle. ‘I’d say she was on your level.’

  Ollie looked over and studied her.

  ‘I’m sure she’s lovely but she’s kind of short,’ he said.

  Braindead stared back at him. ‘You’re not exactly Big Ben,’ he commented.

  ‘Are you calling me short?’ asked Ollie.

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Braindead. ‘You’re never going to pull an Elle Macpherson, are you?’

  ‘I’ve never considered my height to be an issue,’ said Ollie. ‘Is it an issue? I’ve never even thought about it. Ellie was shorter than me. Shit, I’m doomed, aren’t I?’

  ‘No!’ said Ben, blowing his cheeks out. ‘Forget about it. Just be you. Why don’t you just go over and ask her if you can buy her a drink?’

  ‘What, just like that?’ said Ollie.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded.

  ‘But what if she doesn’t want a drink? What if she’s waiting for a friend to bring her a drink? What if she wants one of those really expensive cocktails and she asks me to get her one and then walks off?’

  Braindead gave Ollie a hard shove in the direction of the girl. ‘Go and ask her if she wants a drink!’ he urged.

  Ollie stumbled towards the girl, looking back at them with a vicious stare as though they were the school bullies and they’d asked him to go and shoplift in the newsagents.

  They watched as he turned a smile on the girl and began talking to her.

  ‘Do you think we’ll be doing this with Jack and Logan one day?’ Ben said to Braindead.

  ‘What? Out on the piss encouraging them to try and have sex with girls?’ asked Braindead.

  ‘I wouldn’t have put it like that,’ replied Ben. ‘I meant out on a night out, having a beer with them.’

  ‘How old will we be by the time they are eighteen?’ asked Braindead.

  ‘I guess early fifties,’ replied Ben.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Braindead, turning to look at him. ‘You have to be kidding me. We can’t be?’

  ‘We can,’ said Ben.

  ‘I can’t be in my fifties that soon?’

  ‘It’s coming, mate, believe me.’

  ‘Guys?’ said Ollie, suddenly appearing at their side with the girl in tow. She looked somewhat reluctant. ‘She couldn’t hear a word I said because we were right next to a speaker,’ he shouted at them.

  ‘Okay,’ nodded Ben encouragingly.

  No-one said anything.

 
; ‘So are you going to ask her then?’ said Ben.

  Ollie had gone a puce colour and the girl was looking round desperately.

  ‘Ask her what?’ said Ollie.

  Jesus, thought Ben. ‘You know, that question we said you should ask her?’

  Ollie stared back at him and then appeared to wake up. ‘Oh yeah,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘Do you think I’m short?’

  The girl screwed her eyes up, shook her head and walked off.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ asked Braindead.

  ‘What?’ said Ollie, looking as though he was about to burst into tears. ‘Isn’t that what I should have said?’

  ‘You were meant to ask her if you could buy her a drink!’ said Ben.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ said Ollie, putting his head in his hands. ‘I… I… I just panicked. I told you I was rubbish. I’ve never had to do it, you see. I told you I’ve only been out with Ellie and she asked me out. I just don’t know what to do.’

  Ben and Braindead looked at each other over Ollie’s head. ‘Dance floor,’ declared Braindead. ‘No need to talk. Just dance and look into their eyes.’

  ‘I can’t dance,’ said Ollie. ‘I don’t dance. Ellie said I danced like a giraffe.’

  ‘Did she mean a giraffe?’ asked Braindead. ‘I mean, they are tall, you know.’

  ‘Enough of this short thing,’ said Ollie. ‘You’re going to give me a complex. Anyway I don’t dance, seriously.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Ben. ‘Come on, we’ll come with you. We must be at least ten years older than everyone else on the dance floor so we’ll be the ones looking like idiots, not you, so come on. Get your wiggle on.’

  * * *

  Ben and Braindead stared in awe at Ollie. Never had they seen a more uncoordinated, unrhythmic set of body movements in their life. It was David Brent… no, it was far worse than David Brent. Far, far worse. They’d ignored him for a while until they became aware of a space opening up behind them and looked back to see the impressively bad dancer that was Ollie. He had his eyes closed in concentration fortunately, so he couldn’t see the stares and the pointing and the giggling that was coming from around him.

  ‘We need to get him out of here,’ said Ben, shaking his head.

  ‘How is he actually doing that?’ asked Braindead, cocking his head to one side in awe.

  ‘I have no idea but we really need to get out of here now before we are banished from this town!’

  They descended on Ollie, grabbing an arm each, and led him off the dance floor as he looked around, bewildered. Moments later, they were out on the pavement outside the bar.

  ‘It was bad, wasn’t it?’ said Ollie.

  Ben and Braindead looked away.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything,’ said Ollie, shaking his head. ‘Do you want to know something? I’m that bad at dancing that Ellie made me promise that we wouldn’t do a first dance at our wedding. She said it wasn’t worth the humiliation and she wanted to be able to still walk by the end of the night.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ asked Braindead. ‘She was too embarrassed to do a first dance with you on your wedding day?’

  ‘You’ve seen me,’ said Ollie. ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

  Braindead looked at him.

  ‘I wouldn’t care,’ he said. ‘On my wedding day I would have my first dance whatever. No-one can laugh at your dancing on your wedding day. You can do what you like then.’

  Ollie said nothing.

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ said Braindead, touching his arm. ‘Look, maybe if she was too embarrassed to dance with you on your wedding day then it wasn’t meant to be. She clearly didn’t love you enough if she wouldn’t dance with you.’

  ‘Braindead!’ exclaimed Ben. ‘Ignore him, Ollie. He hasn’t a clue what he’s saying.’

  ‘I know exactly what I am saying,’ said Braindead.

  ‘He’s right,’ said Ollie, looking away.

  ‘No, he’s not,’ said Ben. ‘He talks utter bullshit half the time. Believe me, I’ve known him practically all my life.’

  ‘But he’s right though, isn’t he?’ said Ollie. ‘She didn’t love me enough. It’s as simple as that. She didn’t love me enough to marry me, never mind dance with me.’

  They stood looking at each other as the tourist crowd seethed around them.

  ‘Her loss, mate,’ said Ben eventually.

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Braindead. ‘Her loss.’

  ‘I always knew she didn’t,’ said Ollie, shaking his head. ‘Deep down. I knew we were kind of together because it was easy rather than because of any great passion. She wanted a boyfriend at fourteen and I was there. I was just there. Then somehow we never found enough of a reason to end it. I was good to her. Treated her really well. You know. Really well.’

  ‘I bet you remembered her birthday and everything, didn’t you?’ nodded Braindead.

  ‘Of course and all the anniversaries.’

  ‘Anniversaries?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, like, first kiss, first time we had sex…’

  ‘You celebrated the anniversary of the first time you had sex?’ said Ben incredulously.

  ‘Yeah, of course.’

  ‘How?’ asked Braindead.

  ‘By having sex of course,’ shrugged Ollie.

  ‘Ah,’ nodded Braindead. ‘A cunning plan. At least once a year then. A good anniversary to uphold.’

  ‘Well, it did happen to happen on her sixteenth birthday so, you know, it wasn’t hard to remember.’

  ‘So you celebrated her birthday and your sexiversary on the same day?’ asked Ben.

  ‘Yeah,’ he nodded.

  ‘Did that mean you had to buy two cards?’ asked Braindead.

  ‘No!’ said Ollie. ‘I didn’t send her a sexiversary card. We just used to have sex. To begin with in the woods behind her house because that was where we first did it, but by our third sexiversary she requested we book a hotel.’

  ‘Sensible,’ nodded Ben.

  ‘Good job I’d never heard of these sexiversaries when I lost my virginity or else I’d be having sex once a year in the bus shelter on the Hanley Road,’ announced Braindead.

  ‘I’d be in my old single bed at my mum and dad’s house,’ said Ben. ‘They’ve still got that bed. Can you imagine making an excuse every year to go stay over at your mum and dad’s so you could celebrate your sexiversary?’

  ‘Embarrassing,’ muttered Braindead.

  ‘You’ll find someone who loves you enough,’ said Ben after a few moments of contemplation.

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ said Ollie, giving a huge sigh. ‘You’ve found yours. You’ve found the women who will love you whatever your faults are even if you are a shit dancer. You got your women down the aisle. That’s it now, you are done with all this bollocks,’ he added, casting his arm round at the cattle market that swelled around them. ‘You don’t have to be out there any more. You’re secure and can be just who you please. Now I have to go out there and be somebody. Somebody who somebody might take a shine to. Not just myself.’

  ‘You can be yourself,’ protested Braindead.

  ‘But myself wasn’t enough, was it?’ said Ollie.

  ‘It wasn’t enough for her,’ said Ben. ‘Doesn’t mean it won’t be enough for someone else.’

  ‘If you say so,’ shrugged Ollie.

  * * *

  By ten forty-five they were back in the hotel bar virtually sitting in the same seats that they had vacated only a few hours ago. Except by now the bar was buzzing from the karaoke machine that had been set up in the corner. Overtired kids were screeching into the microphone, followed by granddads who clearly had been told in their youth that they had a talent and still believed they had it as they elbowed small children out of the way in order to have their moment of glory.

  ‘Can you sing?’ said Ben, nudging Ollie.

  ‘A bit. Why?’

  ‘You should try it. Can work wonders with the ladies.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Braindead. ‘Th
at’s right. I mean, look at Ed Sheeran. He’s got nothing going for him, has he really? But he can sing.’

  Ollie cast his eye around the room. ‘Not sure there’s anyone in this hotel that would be interested,’ he muttered. ‘It’s all couples and families. Have you noticed? I bet there’s not one single person in here apart from me. Clearly it’s bad policy to mix the single people with the couples – maybe we singles are not to be trusted. Like I’m a danger to anyone’s happiness!’

  ‘He’ll have a go,’ said Braindead, shouting a rep over. ‘He’s a regular George Ezra, I’m telling you. Go on, Ollie. Let’s see you redeem yourself from that terrible dancing earlier.’

  ‘Seriously?’ said Ollie.

  ‘Please,’ said the rep, walking up to Ollie. ‘Or else we’ll have to have Harry on again and he’s already been on four times tonight. He says he was once a backing singer for Ken Dodd. He reckons he’s got a pair of Ken’s underpants at home. Stole them when they were on a cruise ship together apparently. He’s been on Antiques Roadshow with them twice.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Braindead to Ollie. ‘You don’t know anybody. What have you got to lose?’

  Ollie gave a big sigh and slid off his stool onto the floor, stumbling his way to the karaoke machine, where he chatted with the man behind the machine before approaching the microphone.

  ‘He’s quite pissed, you know,’ said Ben. ‘Hope he’s all right.’

  ‘He’ll be fine. Good sing-song always cheers me up.’

  They heard a tapping and turned to see Ollie bashing the top of the microphone.

  ‘Hello, hello,’ he said, tapping away. ‘Hello.’

  ‘This might be a mistake,’ said Ben.

  ‘This is for all you lovers out there,’ said Ollie, pointing around the room. ‘If you are next to your loved one, reach out and take their hand and hold it tight because… because you don’t know how lucky you are. That’s it. Hold their hands really tight for me now because, you see, I lost my lover. I lost her.’

  A collective ‘Aaah’ emerged from the crowd as they all paused to hear Ollie’s tale of woe.