What I Did On My Holidays

by Chrissie Manby

  Of course there was lots of explaining to be done. Though she claimed to have been furious when she discovered that Clare and I had faked half our time in Majorca, by the time we got back from our real trip abroad, Mum had forgotten about her anger at our lies and was instead utterly thrilled to have two daughters on the shortlist for a national bravery award. She was over the moon when I told her that, since Callum would no longer be my plus one, she could be my guest for the star-studded ceremony, where the awards would be presented by one of her favourite actors. She told all her friends, sparing no detail of the story, including my being dumped and deciding to hide at home.

  ‘You can be a very silly girl,’ my mother told me. Never mind that I was thirty! ‘But I think it was Fate that meant you were in your backyard that afternoon. If you had been where you were supposed to be, poor Mrs Kenman would be dead.’

  Evan too had shelved any disappointment in Clare’s sneakiness and decided to concentrate on what a bright and brave woman his future wife was. He had also switched his focus from hard-core budget management to making sure that he and Clare enjoyed their lives together more. He started his new regime by diverting some of the money saved for new decking in their backyard to booking another holiday in the sun. He also agreed that Clare and I should make our five-day ‘break from reality’ (as we now called it) an annual tradition.

  ‘Perhaps you should recreate your five days in Sophie’s flat every year,’ he suggested, hoping to save a little money on flights.

  I was pleased to see that as well as agreeing that holidays were an important part of any household budget, Evan had been far more open to Clare’s dreams of retraining as an artist than she had hoped. In fact, he was entirely encouraging, having learned that her happiness made life much better for them both.

  Clare did use her photographs of our urban beach in her application to art school. When she showed me the testimony she had written to support the work, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the imaginary Disney holiday she had invented all those years before. My sister had a truly creative mind. I was very proud when she announced that she had been accepted on a foundation art course.

  My sister and I definitely had a new appreciation of each other as a result of our little adventure. Of course, we can’t choose our sisters, but I knew for certain now that I would have chosen Clare as a friend had we not spent thirty years of our lives together. She had helped me survive what could have been one of the most horrible times in my life. She said that I had done the same for her, helping her realise at exactly the right time that what she had with Evan was worth keeping. Clare truly was my best friend.

  I dreaded my first morning back at work, but the girls in the office were a great deal more sympathetic than I had expected. Callum’s indignation cut no ice with them. They were much more interested in hearing exactly how I had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. They pored over the Facebook photos, unable to believe that they really had been fooled by a picture taken in my back garden.

  ‘Eight sacks of sand from a builder’s yard,’ breathed Alison in something approaching admiration.

  ‘I should have known it wasn’t Puerto Bona,’ said Hannah. ‘They don’t have sand like that.’

  And then, of course, the girls wanted to know about my very real holiday romance.

  Tom and I spent quite a bit of time together before I had to fly back to London. He had another week of holiday to go after Clare and I left the resort. He texted every day and assured me that he wished I was still there. We had our first proper date about two weeks after I got back from Majorca. We went to a tapas bar in Stockwell. We had been unable to get together sooner because of his shift patterns and when we at last got the chance to catch up, I was incredibly excited. Clare lent me a red dress with just a hint of flamenco in its ruffled hem. With it, I wore my birthday Jimmy Choos, of course.

  It was a wonderful evening and I think we both knew that it would be the first of many. The English summer had reverted to type with endless grey days and blustery showers, but somehow, seeing Tom again made me feel as though the sun had come out and brought that holiday feeling rushing back. It was either that or the sangria, with its sunburst notes of orange and lemon. Whatever it was, I was only too happy to agree when, as Tom walked me home, he suggested that he show me some first-aid techniques. I told him that I wanted to know everything there was to know. Especially when it came to mouth-to-mouth skills . . .

  Also by Chrissie Manby

  Flatmates

  Second Prize

  Deep Heat

  Lizzie Jordan’s Secret Life

  Running Away From Richard

  Getting Personal

  Seven Sunny Days

  Girl Meets Ape

  Ready Or Not?

  The Matchbreaker

  Marrying for Money

  Spa Wars

  Crazy in Love

  Getting Over Mr Right

  Kate’s Wedding

  Writing for Love (ebook only)

  About the author

  Chrissie Manby is the author of sixteen romantic novels and a guide for aspiring writers, Writing for Love.

  Raised in Gloucester, Chrissie now lives in London.

  You can follow her on Twitter @chrissiemanby, or visit her website to know more: www.chrismanby.co.uk.

  CHRISSIE MANBY

  Thirty-nine-year-old Kate had almost given up on love when she met her fiancé. Now she’s planning for the wedding she never dreamed she’d have. But things seem to be slipping out of her control.

  Diana, born on the day of the 1981 Royal Wedding, never doubted that one day she would find her prince. Newly engaged, and with daddy’s credit card in her grasp, she’s in full Bridezilla mode.

  But will each bride get her perfect day? Or will it all become a right royal fiasco?

  Available in Hodder paperback

  CHRISSIE MANBY

  Have you ever had your heart broken? How did you get over it? Did a tub of ice cream cheer you up? Did you delete his number and start again? Are you now friends with your ex? Perhaps you’re godmother to his children?

  In which case, you’re a weirdo and this book is not for you.

  But if you reacted with denial, begging or a spot of casual witchcraft, then you’ve come to the right place. This is one woman’s journey from love to lunacy and back again . . .

  Available in Hodder paperback