Both sets of eyes fell on me.
‘“Rasputin” by Boney M.’
I really didn’t want to think about this because I wasn’t getting married. I was dating a man who’d kissed someone else.
They continued to stare.
‘Fine. Well, we had to think about songs recently for therapy and how they reflected our relationship . . . or something like that, I can’t remember the logic. Anyway, I’d choose “Sweet Disposition” by The Temper Trap. There would be no discussion. It’s perfect.’
I saw Lucy’s eyes light up. ‘OMG. I’d forgotten about that song. I’m going to suggest it to Kyle.’
‘You should!’ I replied, slightly miffed that she’d stolen the song I wanted to use when I never got married. ‘As long as you get everyone up for the chorus. Or just me. Whatevs.’
I made some tea while we looked at dresses that Lucy had seen online, instantly dismissing anything bright pink and eventually agreeing to wear flower garlands in our hair to keep Kyle happy. Why does Kyle want us all to look like fairies? Doesn’t matter, I’ll rock that shit, regardless.
It looks like everything is coming together nicely. Hazel should do this full-time.
Tuesday July 17th
8 p.m. We’re all organised for tomorrow with only one small where the fuck are the passports? incident late afternoon which was simply resolved by finding them. Surprisingly, Molly went to sleep quickly and Oliver is grabbing a shower now as I write this. Taxi is booked, suitcases are by the door and I’ve set four alarms to make sure we don’t all sleep in and miss the flight. Maybe I should set six alarms? Just in case . . .
Wednesday July 19th
3 a.m. We groggily got up and ready before making our way to Glasgow Airport for our 6 a.m. flight. Unsurprisingly, Molly was in good spirits because she’s four and won’t let something like lack of sleep interfere with her bouncing around plans. Check-in was painless enough with the majority of the queue behind us (all looking like cast members of the Walking Dead who’d had emergency spray tans the previous day), which left us to make our way through security before finding coffee and sugar to keep us upright.
‘I am going to go on the biggest waterslide ever,’ Molly announced, sipping her apple juice. ‘I’m so excciiitteeeddd.’
‘Your dad will have to go on the big slides with you, sweetie,’ I reminded her, wishing she had a volume switch. ‘And you’ll be a bit wee for some of the massive ones.’
‘Aren’t you coming on, too,Mum?’ she asked, ignoring my voice of reason. ‘We could have a race.’
I used to love waterslides as a kid but as an adult they scare the shit out of me. I think it’s a height thing. I don’t want to plummet to my death from anything, let alone attached to an inflatable doughnut, thanks very much.
‘Maybe the small ones,’ I replied, hoping she’d change the subject soon. ‘We’ll see.’ I felt like such a killjoy. I got up to collect some sweetener from a nearby table, noticing a woman in her twenties with a kid around the same age as Molly. She had the determined yet fucking demented look of a single parent and I felt nothing but admiration. She wouldn’t get a relaxing holiday – she’d get a week of being on constant stranger danger patrol, sunblock duty and being confined to her hotel room when her daughter decided to fall asleep. At least Oliver and I can take turns escaping for a bit of peace and quiet.
*
4 p.m. After a five-hour flight to Antalya, followed by a ninety-minute coach ride to the hotel and sixteen thousand ‘we’ll be there soon’ reassurances for Molly, we made it. Hotel is gorgeous, right on the beach, and we can see the waterpark, outdoor stage and main pool from our balcony, which thankfully has an extra-high balcony guard to appease my already-ridiculous fear of falling to death. There’s free water and snacks in the fridge, a wet room shower, a huge king-size bed and bunk beds that Molly has already claimed as her own. I think we chose well.
*
6 p.m. Back from the beach. It’s so fucking hot. I didn’t expect it to be this hot. Even my sweat is sweating. I helped Molly wash the sand out of every orifice before jumping into the shower after her and doing the same. This is why people sit on blankets on the beach.
*
7 p.m. All-inclusive buffet restaurants will be the reason I’m forced to buy two seats on the plane home. Food is amazing. Baklava is my spirit cake. The other guests seem to be mainly German, British and Russian, friendly enough but we’re only on day one.
*
10 p.m. Molly and Oliver crashed out on the main bed leaving me to sip a really bad white wine on the balcony before bottom-bunking it with a stuffed cat toy named Pablo and a piece of baklava I didn’t finish at dinner. I’m having a blast.
Thursday July 20th
8 a.m. We ate breakfast in the main restaurant, a large dining area with white table covers, really cool staff and food stations making omelettes and pancakes as well as a huge array of bread, cheese, olives, meats and the best honey I’ve had in my life. Man with Yorkshire accent at the next table complained repeatedly that his orange juice had bits in while his wife refused to touch ‘that turkey bacon muck.’ Molly had pancakes. All of them, I think.
*
9 a.m. Waterpark for three hours before lunch. Decided that I’d brave some slides with Molly and be a fucking adult about it. Realised I’d made a terrible mistake as I hurtled down a giant snake slide at warp speed, screaming uncontrollably. Luckily Oliver caught the whole thing on video, including my clumsy departure from the inflatable ring. Prick. I wasn’t alone, though; it’s heartening to hear so many different nationalities and languages all uniting in the same high-pitched terror shriek.
*
8 p.m. Kid’s mini disco was fun. Molly participated enthusiastically, wiggling along to unknown classics such as ‘Chocolate Choco Choco’, ‘A Ram Sam Sam’, ‘Veo Veo’ and others I’m sure I’ll be having night terrors about before the week is over. Oliver and I sat like proud parents who loved their child and were also off the hook for thirty minutes to drink beer and swear. We were only on our second day but already I was starting to burn while Oliver was getting a healthy glow.
‘I swear my shoulders are melting,’ I complained, pulling my shawl over them. ‘Can you rub some of that Aloe vera stuff on me when we get back to the room?’
‘I’ll rub anything you want when we get back to the room,’ he said, glancing at my cleavage. ‘That dress looks good on you. Really good.’
‘Oliver Webb, are you trying to seduce me?’
Nodding, he took a swig of his beer. ‘Like you wouldn’t believe. I think it’s the sun. The sun makes me want to fuck the shit out of you.’
‘We’re moving country.’
He moved in closer, pushing my hair behind my ear and whispering, ‘Seriously. All I can think about right now is cumming deep in your—’
‘Sorry to interrupt!’
We turned to see a woman standing in a pretty white summer dress with a flower in her hair. I felt my face turn as red as my shoulders. It was the single mum I’d seen with her kid in the airport.
‘I hate to ask,’ she continued, ‘but my daughter Jodi is up dancing beside your little girl and I really have to use the bathroom . . .’
‘Go for it,’ I replied, watching her shuffle from foot to foot uncomfortably. ‘If they finish before you’re back, she can sit with us.’
‘Oh God, thank you. I’ll be two minutes, tops!’
We watched her bolt towards the main building, trying to stay out of view of her daughter who might panic if she happened to see her leave. These are things they don’t warn you about before you have kids. That you might be forced to ask strangers for help in a foreign country or risk pissing yourself in public. Luckily Jodi was far too distracted by the other twenty kids with zero rhythm to notice that her mum had vanished from view.
A few moments later she returned, looking far less stressed, entirely grateful and carrying two of the beers we’d been drinking. ‘You saved my life,’ she gu
shed, placing the beers on the table. ‘That was a close call.’ She turned to go back to her table but Oliver insisted she sit with us, because fuck letting anyone spend their entire holiday alone.
It turned out that Lydia lived in Dennistoun, worked shifts in a nursing home and had been saving for a year to take Jodi on her first holiday. ‘Her dad had leukaemia,’ she informed us, waving at her daughter on the stage. ‘He passed when she was five months.’
As I listened to her story, I gave Oliver’s knee a little squeeze under the table. I wouldn’t want to be doing any of this alone. Lydia couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five. What a brave woman.
Molly and Jodi bounced back over to the table once the disco finished, grabbing bottles of water like two tiny ravers.
‘Can I go to the kid’s club tomorrow, Mum?’ Molly asked. ‘My best friend Jodi says you get to colour and there’s ice cream for free. FOR FREE!’
I wish I could announce that someone was my best friend immediately upon meeting. ‘Of course,’ I agreed. ‘I’ll take you after breakfast.’
‘I’ll be taking Jodi anyway,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s supervised but I like to sit nearby . . . you know, just in case. Why don’t I take them both and give you guys a couple of hours off? Least I could do.’
Before I had the chance to open my mouth, Oliver had accepted her kind invitation and arranged to meet them for breakfast. It didn’t take a genius to work out why.
Friday July 21st
9 a.m. Had breakfast with Lydia and Jodi. Molly went to the kid’s club.
*
10 a.m. Half a shag accomplished before housekeeping turned up to give us towels and water. Oliver nicked some cans of Coke when she wasn’t looking. Rebel.
*
11 a.m. Rest of shag complete. Oliver grabbed my sunburned shoulders while he fucked me from behind and I threatened to cut his fingers off.
*
11.30 a.m. More Aloe vera applied lightly to shoulders and Oliver kissed them to say sorry. Kissing led to second shag with no shoulder contact.
*
12 p.m. Had to stop sex to collect Molly from the kid’s club. Arrange with Lydia to do this on alternate mornings so we all get a break. We get to shag, Lydia gets spa time. Now I also want spa time. Stolen cans of Coke useful for rolling on sunburn.
Sunday July 23rd
Today’s highlights included:
• Random kid told Molly her sunglasses were stupid. Molly told kid her face was stupid.
• Saw a man touch and sniff some baklava before putting it back on the serving plate. I’m now done with baklava.
• I have three mosquito bites in various locations and I want to claw my own skin off.
We didn’t see much of Lydia and Jodi after this morning’s kid’s club. I guess they wanted some alone time which is understandable. I don’t know if I’d want to be hanging around with a couple who are nearly twice my age for the entire holiday.
Monday July 24th
Woke up in the middle of the night, convinced I’d left my straighteners on at home and that the flat would be burnt to the ground by the time we got back. The fucking things are in Turkey with me but there’s still a little voice in my head that’s unconvinced. I’m sure all women must be plagued by this.
Tuesday July 25th
As it’s Jodi and Lydia’s last full day, we all went to the spa together, taking advantage of the kid’s package which included a chocolate facial and gentle body scrub. It wasn’t cheap but as the hotel is in the middle of fucking nowhere we had little else to spend our Lira on.
Oliver went for a Turkish shave which I later learned involved hot towels, an extremely sharp straight-edge razor, hair singeing and threading. Afterwards he was completely smooth and completely traumatised.
‘How the fuck do women do that threading thing on a regular basis? And he fucking burned my ear hair off with fire! I can still smell it. Never again.’
Thursday July 26th
Oliver is getting ratty now.
‘If I have to sit beside one more moron who’s getting hammered on shitty beer in the morning in front of his kids, I’ll fucking lose it. Seriously – go and play with your kid; build a fucking sandcastle. You’re not on a stag weekend in Ibiza.’
Molly begged me to go on another slide which had a plug hole you disappeared into before whooshing out into the pool below, upside down. Initially I refused until I saw a woman in her 80s do it and felt like a prick for not being braver. I have to admit – it was fun. I went on it three times and redeemed myself for acting like such a fragile wreck on the snake slide.
Friday July 28th
We leave at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning so we spent the last day in the waterpark, making sure Molly got to ride as many slides as possible. She’s pretty devastated to be leaving whereas I cannot wait to get the fuck home because:
1. I am sick of smelling like sun cream.
2. I am sick of everyone else smelling like sun cream.
3. Other people are annoying.
4. Being constantly harassed by staff to go to the spa when we have been to the spa is getting on my tits.
It’s been a pretty successful holiday though, apart from my inevitable sunburn. Even Lucy tans better than me and she’s a redhead. Still, I conquered my fear of falling off waterslides, had sex four times, let my skin go make-up free, watched my kid dance her little ass off, discovered baklava and saved a very nice woman from wetting herself on holiday. I’m a damn champion.
Sunday July 30th
I’m still finding sand in everything, despite having washed our holiday clothes twice. Fuck nature, it’s ruining my washing machine.
It’s a tad deflating to arrive home to grey skies and showers but my skin is grateful. Lucy popped over with some healing cream she swears by.
‘I think it’s used for burn victims or something. Burn victims and redheads. So how was the holiday?’
‘Exhausting!’ I admitted. ‘I’m glad to be home. There are only so many kids’ discos you can sit through before you lose your mind. It was nice to get away from everything, though. You know, I didn’t think about Oliver or his stupid kissing colleague once while I was away. Maybe this is exactly what we needed. How are you anyway? I take it work still hasn’t burned to the ground?’
‘Sadly no,’ she replied. ‘Though that Sarah woman was back in seeing Frank for lunch. She sat in your chair, waiting for him. She’s bold as brass, that one. I had to politely remind her that she didn’t work here so would she please not do that.’
‘I don’t want her sweaty gym arse on my seat! I’m going to have to bleach it now,’ I responded. ‘Who the fuck does that? She’s very strange.’
Monday July 31st
My baby is five today. FIVE! I’ve had the pleasure of gazing adoringly at that wee face for 1825 days but it’s flown by and I’m feeling many feelings about this, goddammit. As much as I’m excited to see how she’s blossoming, I’m also a bit sad that very soon she’ll no longer be my baby and will leave home and then I’ll be stuck looking at Oliver’s big face until one of us dies.
However, I kept this to myself and rearranged my work schedule so I could have today free and work Wednesday, instead. Oliver also took it off – we wanted to make sure Molly had a lovely day. It involved presents, a trip to the cinema to see The Boss Baby, dinner at Frankie and Benny’s and finally a Just Dance tournament when we got home. Mum and Dad Skyped her this morning and transferred some money for her into my bank while Oliver’s parents rang her from their landline because other forms of technology scare them.
When we finally got to bed, Oliver was pretty overwhelmed by the whole day.
‘How the hell is she starting school next month? She was only born the other week.’
I laughed and pulled the covers over me. ‘I know. I’ve been wondering the same all day. I think she had a good birthday, though. She loved the Pokémon stuff Megan sent her.’
Everything was silent for a moment until Ol
iver said softly, ‘We made a good one. She’s amazing.’
I nodded sleepily and turned off the light.
August
Thursday August 3rd
‘So have you thought any more about coming to London at the end of the month?’
I’m really not sure which one of the NO responses I’ve given Frank so far is confusing him. I sat across the desk from him and sighed. ‘I have no interest, Frank. Truly. Why are you persisting with this?’
Now he was sighing. ‘Look, any of you could do the job, it’s not remotely taxing. I’d just be happier bringing you to London. You’re far more . . . well, fun.’
It didn’t make sense. I do nothing but argue with the man. Kelly or Brian would be far more respectful and grateful for the opportunity. I suddenly had a creeping suspicion that Frank’s idea of fun involved both us being drunk in his hotel room. I bet that fucker hasn’t been laid since his divorce; well, not unless Lord Wilson has dropped her drawbridge for him.
‘I have no interest in being fun anymore, Frank,’ I said coolly. ‘I hope that clears the matter up. Please ask someone else.’
Damn . . . the look on his face. He looked almost hurt.
Sunday August 6th
The stage show Wicked is touring so I’ve told Molly I’ll take her to see it, despite her protests that she doesn’t even like the Wizard of Oz and witches are annoying. How is that possible? I’m starting to think she’s adopted.
Mum has emailed dates she’ll be here in October – three days here with us and then they’re off to Arran for the rest of the week. I think the only reason I look forward to seeing my parents is because it doesn’t happen very often. I feel terrible saying that but it’s true. They’ve always preferred to live independently from me and the feeling is mutual.
I’ve also been thinking about Frank’s reaction to me refusing the London trip. I think he’s lonely and I’m sure that Lord Wilson is in the same position. Perhaps those two getting together would result in them getting the hell away from me . . .
Relight my Fire Page 17
