by Zoe May
But Will did make a move and our kiss was everything I’d ever wanted it to be: tender, gentle, heartfelt, passionate, adoring. Except then kissing became fondling, which I was okay with, even though it was the first time I’d ever been to second base. But then Will’s hand started wandering further south and I freaked out a bit. I was sure Will had slept with girls before. A lot of guys in our year had and he was the coolest, best-looking guy, so I naturally assumed he would have done. I felt so embarrassed admitting I was a virgin and that I wasn’t ready, but I had to get it out. I had to be honest, because if I didn’t explain the reason I wasn’t keen to go further, Will might have thought I just wasn’t into him and nothing could have been further from the truth. Surprisingly, Will confessed to being a virgin too and promised he’d wait until I was ready. I couldn’t believe it! Will Brimble was a virgin and wanted to lose his virginity to me! If I wasn’t already head over heels for him, now I was truly, truly smitten.
The rest of the trip was bliss: painting, cuddling, kissing, snuggling around the campfire. It was perfect and I knew it wouldn’t be long until I was ready to have sex with Will. I just wanted to go home and get my head around things. I wanted to research sex and read articles in Cosmo and chat to Lauren. I had so many questions, like should I shave my pubic hair? Do I need to shave all of it or just the bit at the front? Will he want a blow job and how do you even do them? I also needed to buy condoms. The last thing I wanted was to get knocked up on my first time. I needed a bit more time to psych myself about the whole thing, but my mind was made up: Will was the one.
‘Oh yeah,’ Lauren comments, taking a sip from the dregs of her now near-empty coffee. ‘And then didn’t he go off and sleep with Jo?’
‘Yeah,’ I reply, glumly. ‘He did.’ I take a massive bite of my brownie.
Years and years have gone by and yet and it still hurts. Things were great after Will and I got back from the camping trip, Will was still phoning every few days and as usual, we’d chat about everything and anything, but then one day, the calls just stopped. Will didn’t show up at Art Club and all of a sudden, he was ignoring me at school. I asked around and I found out that he’d slept with this blonde sporty girl called Jo at a house party at the weekend. He had been meant to be waiting for me! I was devastated. My Will bubble burst in one cruel second. Not only had Will ruined everything but he’d chosen Jo over me. She was loud, bordering on brash, and obsessed with all things sports. She didn’t like The Strokes, or art, or Neighbours, or reading. She wasn’t like us and yet he’d gone for her when we were meant to be saving ourselves for each other. I still remember the sadness and disappointment like it was yesterday.
‘Oh yeah, that was really harsh. Christ, I’d forgotten about that,’ Lauren remarks, looking a bit more moved now.
‘It was awful,’ I admit, stuffing the brownie into my mouth.
‘I can’t believe he did that,’ Lauren sighs. ‘You guys never spoke again after that, did you?’
‘Nope, never again,’ I reply, thinking back to the months that dragged on from that point until the end of school. Will was the main reason I ended up moving to London for boarding school. I went to Westminster University afterwards and then set up my business in London too. In a way, that incident with Will changed the course of my life. I might never have moved to London in the first place if he hadn’t made me want to get away from him so badly.
‘God, what a nightmare,’ Lauren muses.
‘Yeah, a real nightmare,’ I grumble.
‘Let’s get you more tea?’ Lauren gets up to head to the counter to order more drinks.
She comes back with a bag of popcorn too. I love Lauren.
‘I know you’re not going to want to hear this,’ she says, as she tears open the bag and places it on the table between us, ‘but it was a long time ago. Will behaved in a really shitty way, I’m not denying that, but he was only a kid and a lot of time has passed. We were all different back then to how we are now. I’m sure Will’s grown up a lot since then.’
‘I know.’ I reach for a handful of popcorn. ‘He still seems kind of immature though,’ I remark, thinking back to his competitiveness over the raffle the other night.
Lauren plucks a few pieces of popcorn from the bag. Unlike me, Lauren is an avid gym-goer and calorie counter. I have enough to worry about these days with Hera to pay much attention to my waistline and my once size ten figure has become more of a size fourteen. I used to care but right now, I’m just thinking that Lauren’s restraint means more popcorn for me.
‘He’s done alright for himself, hasn’t he? Didn’t he marry some super rich girl? And he was Group Editor at a national newspaper. I mean, you have to admit, that’s not bad,’ Lauren comments, before popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.
‘No, it’s not bad, but he’s not editor anymore. He lost his job. And he’s divorced.’ Even as I say the words, I wince at how they sound.
‘I don’t know about Will’s divorce, but losing his job wasn’t through any fault of his own though,’ Lauren points out. ‘Over three hundred people lost their jobs when his paper went under. It’s not like he was fired or anything.’
‘Yeah, I know, but just because he was Group Editor at a national newspaper and stuff, it still doesn’t make him a great person.’ I’m clearly still smarting over the past.
‘I guess.’ Lauren shrugs. ‘But I would keep an open mind if I were you. Don’t hold stuff from more than fifteen years ago over the guy. That’s a bit harsh.’
‘S’pose.’ I reach for another handful of popcorn.
Lauren plucks a few more pieces and eats them slowly, looking pensive.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask.
‘I was just …’ Lauren chews another piece of popcorn. ‘I was just thinking about that thing all the girls used to say about Will at school. Do you remember his nickname?’ she asks.
‘Knobhead? Asshole? Wankstain?’ I suggest.
‘No, nicknames that everyone gave him, not just you,’ Lauren teases.
I rack my brains. Nicknames. I can remember the nicknames Will saved other people from. I can’t remember him having any of his own.
‘No, I don’t remember Will’s nickname. Pray tell.’
‘Everyone called him the cruise ship,’ Lauren says, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
‘The what?! He didn’t even go on cruises … did he?’
‘Oh, it had nothing to do with cruises,’ Lauren says obliquely, with a dirty look in her eyes.
‘What did it have to do with then?’ I ask, narrowing my eyes at her as I grab some more popcorn.
‘Okay.’ Lauren shuffles on her seat. ‘You know that phrase, it’s not the size of the ship, it’s the motion in the ocean?’
‘Yeah, for guys who have small penises,’ I say, a smile creeping onto my lips. ‘Does he have a tiny penis?’
‘No, there was this girl, Lydia. I don’t think you knew her. She was on my hockey team and she’d been seeing this guy, Pete or Paul or something, I can’t remember. But anyway, apparently, he wasn’t particularly well-endowed and everyone kept telling her that it’s not the size of the ship, it’s the motion in the ocean.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I reply hesitantly, wondering where she’s going with this. I never really knew any of Lauren’s hockey mates. When I left to take up my scholarship for sixth-form, Lauren stayed at our old school. She developed an interest in hockey and joined the school’s hockey team, competing at matches across the county.
‘Well, eventually Lydia ended things with Pete and started seeing Will,’ Lauren explains.
‘Right …’
‘Well, one day she randomly came to practice looking really pleased with herself and she said it was because she’d spent the night with Will and that he was a “cruise ship”.’ Lauren smiles cheekily at the memory.
‘Still totally confused, Lauren.’
‘She called him the cruise ship because he was well-endowed and he knew how to use it. A massive shi
p with a good motion in the ocean,’ Lauren says with a snigger.
‘Oh Jesus,’ I groan, lowering my head into my hands.
‘Maybe you’ll get to see in Marrakech?’ Lauren winks. ‘You’re both single! Maybe you’ll get to hop aboard the cruise ship?’
‘Shut up, Lauren!’ I roll my eyes. ‘Even if that was on my agenda, I don’t actually know if Will’s single. Just because he’s divorced, it doesn’t mean he’s available. And even if he were, honestly, the last thing I need right now is to get involved with him. You know how I feel about men since Leroy.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ Lauren sighs, nodding to herself.
Lauren was my rock during my break-up with Leroy. I was an absolute mess. Seven months’ pregnant and single. Heartbroken and hormonal. Lauren spent so many evenings listening to me bitch and rant about him. She sat with me as I cried, telling me it would all be okay. She pulled me through it. She even came to the hospital with me and held my hand until my mum arrived. She knows more than anyone how difficult that period of my life was and how anxious it’s made me about getting involved with someone again. My singleness isn’t just down to being a single mum living in my childhood home in Chiddingfold, it’s also because I’m not sure my heart could take any more. If a man could cheat on me at seven months’ pregnant, sometimes I wonder what chance I’ll ever have of finding someone who’ll be faithful.
‘Okay, ignore what I said about the cruise ship,’ Lauren comments. ‘Just go on the holiday, soak up the sun, do some shopping in the souks, eat some amazing food and just relax. Will’s an alright guy, despite what he did when he was 15. He’ll be decent enough company, but just do your thing. Put yourself first and make sure you enjoy yourself. You really deserve a holiday, Nat.’ Lauren fixes me with a sweet kind look, and reaches over and squeezes my hand.
‘Thanks Lauren,’ I reply, trying not to tear up. I do really need this holiday.
Chapter 6
It’s two days until we leave and I’m beginning to feel really excited. I’ve bought a new swimsuit to wear at the pool, a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of cool oversized sunglasses. I’ve got a couple of fun holiday reads lined up and a bottle of sun cream and I can’t wait to sit by the pool and just relax. It’s going to be perfect, or at least as close to perfect as possible. The only drawback is Will, but I can’t have everything. You can’t have a sun-soaked holiday without something annoying you. It’s a bit like mosquitos – you can be in the most beautiful tropical place, your pictures might be the most Instagrammable shots ever, and yet you still have to contend with those little bastards. Will is a bit like a mosquito: a minor drawback to an otherwise idyllic experience.
Hera’s fast asleep in her cot and I’m painting my toenails a bright pink shade when my phone buzzes with a text. It’s from an unknown number.
I’ve booked a taxi for 4 a.m. Shall I come and collect you?
I consider ignoring the text as it’s clearly not meant for me, but I fire back a response just to give the person who sent it a heads up.
Wrong number, sorry.
My phone buzzes again.
Natalie? This is your number, right? It’s Will.
Will? How did he get my number? I text back to ask him.
Ran into your mum in Sainsbury’s. She gave it to me.
I sigh. Of course, she did. My mum loves Will and has talked of nothing else since we won the raffle. She’s brought me fully up to speed on all the gossip. I think she made up for lost time at the fundraiser, chatting over glasses of punch to all the friends and acquaintances she’s been too busy to see while helping out with Hera. Anyway, apparently, Will’s moved into a flat only a few roads down from us and he’s freelancing for national papers. My mum seems under the impression that Will’s redundancy might have been a blessing in disguise and that he needed a break from London, although she doesn’t seem to know why. Oh, and apparently, he’s definitely single. Not that it’s of any relevance to me, but my mum won’t stop going on about how he’s ‘back on the market’ as though he’s a product to be snapped up and not someone who, like myself, is probably quite content on their own. She’s become fixated with the idea that Will and I are going to reignite our spark on this trip. She even forwarded me a magazine article the other day entitled: ‘Five Ways to Make Your Romantic Getaway Completely Unforgettable’. I immediately hit delete. She’s more excited about the trip than I am and really, it comes as no surprise that she would have given my number to Will. She’s dying for us to get together. In fact, she’s probably already bought a hat.
Me: I see.
Will: So, the taxi. Makes sense for us to head to the airport together … I can be round at yours at about ten past four. Ok?
Taking a taxi at 4.10 a.m. with someone I’ve barely seen since school isn’t the ideal wake-up call, but Will’s right, it does make sense for us to head to the airport together.
Me: Ok, sounds good.
Will: Ok great. See you then. Hope you’re as excited as I am
I stare at the text, unsmiling. What’s with the winky face? It’s bad enough having Lauren being suggestive about this holiday. I don’t need Will to start being suggestive too. I type a response.
Me: Winky face? Please refrain from that in text or in person.
Will: Lol. See you bright and early on Thursday.
Me: See you then!
I place my phone down. So, this really is happening. I really am going on holiday with Will Brimble. I take a deep breath and add another brushstroke of nail polish to my toenail.
* * *
Two days later, my mum is answering the door at 4.05 a.m. in her best dressing gown – a silk floral Kimono-style number. She’s even wearing lipstick – a rosy shade that could just about pass as natural but which I know is a result of the Clinique Chubby Stick she keeps in her handbag. She’s a sucker for Will’s charm, just like every other woman in the history of his entire life.
‘Oh hello, Will,’ she says in a husky voice as though she’s just rolled out of bed. She bats her lashes which she’s slicked with a light coat of mascara. I roll my eyes as I rummage amongst the pegs by the front door for my handbag.
‘Pam, you’re up early!’ Will says, giving her one of his most charming, broad, pearly white smiles, despite looking pale and a bit bleary-eyed. He’s wearing a hoodie, jeans and trainers, with a leather jacket thrown on top and a scarf hanging unevenly around his neck. He probably chucked it on half-asleep, as he left his flat. His slightly sloppy get-up makes me feel better about the leggings, slouchy jumper and long padded jacket I’m wearing, which bears more than a passing resemblance to a sleeping bag.
‘I thought I’d see Natalie off! It’s such a big exciting trip!’ my mum gushes. ‘My Natalie, my little girl going all the way to Africa,’ she adds fretfully.
‘I’m 32, Mum,’ I remind her, rolling my eyes as I find my handbag amongst the coats. I open it to double check my passport is still inside, even though I checked twice last night before I went to bed.
‘Oh, don’t worry, Pam, I’ll take care of her!’ Will insists, placing a hand protectively on my shoulder.
‘You’ll what?’ I laugh, shuffling away.
‘I’ll take care of you,’ Will repeats simply. ‘You know, look out for you.’
‘I can take care of myself, thanks very much!’ I huff, spotting my passport in the slip pocket I placed it in last night.
My mum and Will exchange a look. ‘Stop being such a sourpuss, Natalie.’
‘I’m not! I just don’t need Will to take care of me. I’d be perfectly capable of going on this trip alone.’
‘Honestly! If I were in your shoes, I’d be incredibly grateful to have someone like Will taking care of me,’ my mum jokes, giving Will a cheeky wink.
‘I know you would, Mum!’ I groan, cringing. I really wish she would stop making such cringey comments. It’s so embarrassing.
Will laughs a little awkwardly.
‘If only they’d pulled my name out of that hat!�
� my mum jokes, nudging Will.
He smiles widely although his eyes look a little afraid. ‘Oh yes, we’d have had a brilliant time!’
I gawp at both of them. ‘It’s too early for this. Far too early!’ I grumble. I turn around to grab my massive traveller’s backpack, which I left ready to go in the hallway, and heave it onto my back.
‘Let me help,’ Will says, reaching over to give me a hand.
‘I’m fine, thanks Will,’ I insist in a slightly clipped tone before slipping past him to head to the taxi, which is waiting at the end of the garden path, its engine rumbling.
‘Natalie’s not a morning person,’ I hear my mum tutting behind me.
It’s pitch-black outside and my breath is misty in the cool night air. The driver looks over as I approach and, spotting my bag, he gets out of the taxi and comes around to open the boot.
‘Need a hand?’ he asks as I struggle to lift the bag.
