by Tom Bale
Five minutes of musical chairs in the bathroom and they’re ready to leave. The heat and light are dazzling after the cool dim cave of their bedroom, but it helps to rouse them. Walking briskly, they retrace their route to reception and this time no one around the pool gives them a second glance.
The welcome meeting is underway in the far corner of the main lounge. A dozen or so people sit at a cluster of tables, listening to the rep. It’s Gabby, from the coach, holding a plastic folder bearing the Sheldon logo. Spotting her, Jody lets out a tiny snort. Sam knows the sound means something but he isn’t sure what.
Gabby glances round and breaks into a smile, meeting Sam’s gaze for a long second. She looks ridiculously pleased to see him, and he has to remind himself that her wages probably depend on how many people show up for these talks. Jody has already warned him that the reps push you to sign up for their trips.
Sorry, Gabby, he thinks. You won’t be fleecing us.
To Jody, the look on the rep’s face seems to be one of relief. Which is odd, given that there’s already a respectable turnout. The middle-aged couple from the plane are among the group, but keep their gazes fixed on their laps.
Gabby, however, interrupts her spiel to say hello, then consults her list. ‘Now, it’s Sam Berry and Jody Lamb, yes?’
The rep invites them to take a seat, and Sam instinctively selects a table at the back of the gathering. It’s close to the tray of complementary drinks: either white wine or orange juice. He picks up juices for the kids, nothing for himself. Jody considers the wine, then she too opts for juice.
She feels oddly ill at ease as she sits down; grimy from the heat and disorientated from sleeping so unexpectedly. They also had sex, and she wonders suddenly if they might smell. With a clutch of panic, she glances at the middle-aged couple just as the man looks up and stares straight at her. Jody turns to listen with exaggerated concentration to what Gabby has to say.
While she speaks, the rep hugs the folder to her chest, which to Jody seems like poor body language – until she realises it’s to prevent people from staring at her boobs. Aside from that, Gabby has a confident, attractive manner, and doesn’t seem bored to be repeating the same information for what must be the umpteenth time.
‘So, welcome, once again, to the beautiful island of Sekliw.’ She pronounces it ‘Sekley’. ‘In a minute I’ll tell you about some of the brilliant places you can visit, but first a bit more about the island itself. There are six main settlements, all on the coast, two each on the east, the west and here, near to where we are, on the south.’
From a group of two couples with several children between them, a bald man with a Yorkshire accent says, ‘What about the north?’ The other man in their group, pretending to sound aggrieved, says, ‘Yeah. Don’t forget the north!’
Gabby gives them an indulgent smile. ‘I’d never do that, guys! No, the north of the island is much less developed than the rest. Apart from one or two private estates, there’s a nature reserve that might one day be turned in to a major tourist attraction.’
It’s possible to hire jeeps or mountain bikes to explore the interior, she tells them, but most leisure activity takes place on the coast. She runs through the official excursions, which include jet skiing, scuba diving, island tours, dolphin hunting – ‘so amazing to photograph’ – and some speedboat rides.
‘And they’re all safe, are they?’ someone asks.
‘Absolutely. At Sheldon Travel, we take health and safety very seriously.’
‘But wasn’t there a crash last year? Quite a nasty one.’
Gabby seems irritated but hides it quickly. ‘I know the incident you’re talking about – a tragic collision between a speedboat and a fishing vessel. But on that occasion the boat was a private charter, and the people on board had been drinking and, uh, taking illegal substances. All our trips are run by qualified crew.’ She regards the group with a sombre expression. ‘That’s one of the reasons why I’d recommend you arrange your excursions through Sheldon Travel.’
A hand goes up. ‘What about terrorism? Haven’t there been protests against the government?’
Again the rep looks uncomfortable. ‘On the mainland, yes. But let’s face it, that’s the same almost anywhere nowadays. Here on the islands it’s very peaceful. In fact, the president’s son has a home on Sekliw. You can hardly get a better recommendation than that, can you?’ She giggles, but cuts it short when no one else seems amused.
‘One more thing… I don’t know how many of you have had a chance to “peruse” the information pack in your room, but this week there’s a special prize draw to attend a VIP champagne reception at the Hotel Conchis.’
For those who don’t know, Gabby explains that this is the most exclusive hotel on the island, a favourite with the jet set, including movie stars, music icons and royalty. The reception takes place on Thursday afternoon and offers the winners a chance to sample the delights that the Conchis has to offer.
‘In return for attending this welcome meeting, Sheldon Travel thank you by entering your names into the draw, which takes place tomorrow–’
‘What if we’re in a group?’ asks the bald Yorkshireman. ‘We’re here with my brother and his wife.’
Gabby tuts regretfully. ‘It’s limited to the one family only. But don’t forget that your party has several rooms, so you get more than one entry into the draw.’
‘Guess we’ll have to scrap over who goes, then,’ his brother says, to general laughter.
Gabby hands out the brochures – booking form included – and thanks them for listening. For a second she’s staring at Sam again. Conscious of Jody turning in his direction, he quickly looks away.
She shows him the brochure. ‘I know I said these are usually overpriced, but the boat trip sounds nice.’
Sam pulls a face. His only experience of boats was a day-trip to Dieppe when he was fourteen. He was violently sick on the ferry – though, to be fair, cider played a part in that.
Grace is leaning in to look. ‘I’d love to see dolphins. Can we do it? Please?’
‘On a boat? Yeah!’ Dylan has a glint in his eyes that guarantees tears and trouble if they don’t agree.
‘How much?’ Sam says, wishing that just once this wasn’t the question he had to ask before any other.
‘Twenty euros a head.’ And as he’s wincing, quietly, Jody adds, ‘But I think it’s less for the kids.’
They stare at each other for a second: their telepathy is pretty finely tuned when it comes to money. Sam’s problem is that he’d rather die than look poor in front of other people. If he’s put on the spot in any way regarding the price he’ll sign up just to avoid the embarrassment.
He can sense Gabby monitoring them. A moment later, she pounces. ‘Hi, guys. So glad you made it to the meeting. Anything you fancy?’
To Sam’s ears it isn’t said with any sense of double meaning, but Jody’s expression goes cold.
‘The boat trip, maybe.’ With Jody bristling, Sam is reluctant to meet the rep’s eye, but equally worried about looking at her body. He ends up addressing the floor. ‘With the dolphins?’
‘It says there’s a reduced price for children,’ Jody adds.
‘Half-price, although for this handsome feller,’ – the rep grins at Dylan – ‘there won’t be any charge.’
‘Oh, right. So, fifty quid – sorry, euros – in all?’ Sam says. Before Jody can interrupt he nods decisively. ‘We’ll do that one, then.’
‘Brilliant. That’s Saturday…’ She falters; for a second it’s as though a shadow has crossed Gabby’s face. Then the smile returns, a pen is magicked up. ‘Best do the form now. How are you paying?’
‘Credit card,’ Jody says.
Sam nods reluctantly. They’ve only had the card a couple of years, and it’s rarely used. Sam knows all too well how dangerous it is to live on credit. One of his cousins owed more than thirty grand by the time he went to prison, and he’d never borrowed more than a couple of thousa
nd to begin with.
Jody hands over the card, and while Gabby is filling out a receipt, Sam says, ‘Did you find out what happened with that other plane?’
At first it’s like she hasn’t heard. Then she blinks a few times and finally nods. ‘The airport staff said it was a straightforward landing. Sometimes they change the direction you come in, because of the wind.’
Several more guests are waiting to speak to the rep, but Jody gets in a question about the kids’ club, and Sam becomes aware of Grace, laughing and saying something behind him. Because of this, the thought that’s just popped into his head dissolves as he turns and discovers that one of the waiters is crouched down, chatting with Dylan and Grace. It’s a sweet gesture, even though Sam’s first reaction is that someone’s moving in on his family.
‘I’m getting a drink,’ Dylan says proudly. ‘From the man.’
The waiter glances at Sam, then straightens up and says to Dylan, ‘One Coke with ice, no lemon!’ He gives a sharp salute. ‘Yes, sir!’
Dylan runs after him as the waiter returns to the bar. Grace follows, then Sam, and it’s too late to change direction when he sees who else is there.
7
Jody can’t work out what it is about the rep that makes her uneasy. During the talk, there were a couple of times when she seemed to be looking at Sam a bit too intently. On the other hand, there were times when she was doing the same to Jody. It weirded her out, frankly.
Now it comes as something of a relief to see, at close range, that Gabby isn’t quite as perfect as she had imagined. There are pimples on her cheeks, covered in foundation, and a couple of her teeth are slightly crooked.
Other holidaymakers are competing for the woman’s attention, so Jody thanks her and joins her family at the bar. The snobbish couple are standing less than a metre away, but they and Sam seem to be engaged in a determined ignoring competition. Jody clears her throat so that the woman glances round, then smiles and says hello.
Introductions are made – ‘This is Trevor, and I’m Kay, Kay Baxter,’ – and Jody asks if they’re going to book any of the trips.
Kay shakes her head in a dismissive way. ‘We may rent a jeep to explore the island. We prefer to go alone.’
With obvious reluctance, Sam turns towards them. Only now does Trevor’s face light up. ‘Who’s this?’ he says, and rears back, his mouth gaping open in a silent, terrified scream. ‘That reverse thrust can really catch you out, eh?’
Jody freezes inside, while Sam issues a pretend chuckle. ‘I haven’t flown before,’ he says.
‘Genuinely?’ Kay couldn’t sound more shocked if Sam had just announced that he used to be a woman. Fortunately Dylan chooses this moment to contribute, using a forearm to wipe off his Coke moustache before declaring: ‘We’re gonna see doll-things!’
‘Dolphins,’ Grace corrects him.
‘Oh, how lovely for you!’ Kay gushes, overdoing the enthusiasm.
‘Just remember they can’t guarantee the creatures will make an appearance,’ Trevor cautions. ‘If they don’t, all you’ve done is paid to look at the sea!’ And he guffaws, seemingly oblivious to the hurt he might have caused.
His wife is slightly more perceptive. ‘I’m sure you will see some,’ she says. ‘And we’re all entered into the prize draw, of course.’
Sam gives a snort. ‘Dunno why they think we’d want to go off to some other hotel, when this one’s got all we need.’
The Baxters look at him as though he has duly met their low expectations. After a moment, Trevor says, ‘The Conchis has an extraordinary reputation – though granted it’s not for everyone. Horses for courses and all that.’
By now Sam’s got a scowl so fierce you could toast bread from it. Jody puts on a big fake smile and says, ‘It’s been lovely to meet you, but we need to go and feed these two hungry kids.’
‘Three,’ says Sam, and unexpectedly gets a laugh. ‘I’m starving.’
‘What a couple of total–’
‘Mm. No need to say it.’
Sam checks the kids aren’t listening too closely before imitating Trevor’s deep and phlegmy voice: ‘“Not for everyone.” Not for the chavs, that’s what he means.’
Jody glares at him. In their house there are two forbidden c-words. Fortunately the sight of the restaurant brings an end to the conversation. It’s a vast room with dozens of tables and a serving area in the middle. While they’re taking it in, a senior-looking man in a grey waistcoat approaches and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Your first night?’
Jody nods. ‘Yes.’
The head waiter, or whatever he is, goes on staring at Sam. ‘For the evening our dress code is for trousers. Smart clothes. But as it is your first night...’ He winks at Grace. ‘Come, I find you a table.’
Sam feels about six years old as he’s led across the room and seated next to a pillar that hides them from most of the people nearby. The head waiter takes their order for drinks, then explains that they can simply help themselves to whatever they like. ‘Enjoy,’ he commands, and Sam isn’t sure whether he detects a certain bitterness.
It’s probably not necessary, but now they’ve been allocated a table, Sam doesn’t like the idea of leaving it unattended, so he and Grace wait while Jody and Dylan go off.
‘You’ve been really good today,’ Sam tells Grace. ‘Thanks.’
She shrugs. Although pale and tired, she still looks extraordinarily pretty and grown-up. Sam can’t ever quite believe that he’s allowed to take any credit for how she’s turning out.
‘It seems really nice here, but... I dunno. I’m not as excited as I thought I’d be.’
‘Probably because we were up so early. A good night’s sleep will help.’
Jody and Dylan are back sooner than he expected. He peers at Jody’s plate: a bit of salad, a bread roll, something that might be fish.
‘That’s hardly anything.’
‘It’s my starter. I’m going back for more, and so are you.’
He’d forgotten about having different courses. On the rare occasion they eat out, it’s usually a pizza, a burger, a curry. But she’s right – even if he’s not feeling particularly hungry, he ought to make the most of it.
He and Grace find where the plates are stacked, then choose some food. In the centre of the room it’s very noisy, with the constant sharp clatter of crockery and steel echoing off the tiled floor. He discovers that you have to be on your toes, dodging through a busy stream of kitchen staff collecting empty trays and bringing fresh ones. And some of the other diners are a pain: it isn’t all good manners and ‘After you, my dear chap,’ but sharp elbows and an urgent every-man-for-himself attitude, as though they’re competing for the food instead of sharing far more than they could ever eat.
In fact, both the choice and the sheer amount of it is staggering. Sam wonders how much is wasted. Do the staff get to take the food home to their families? And how would that feel, night after night, eating the lukewarm leftovers of the rich?
The rich. It shocks Sam to include himself in that category, but here it’s true. He’s sensed it already in some of the looks he’s had from the waiters – a mix of fear and respect, envy and contempt that he knows all too well. My job depends on you, but don’t expect me to grovel.
Jody had fears about the quality of the food, given the challenge of catering on such an enormous scale, but it turns out to be delicious. And the beauty of this system is that you can sample several dishes, then go back for more of what you like best.
Not tonight, though. They’re simply too tired to overindulge.
Outside, they get lost on the way back to the room, but it turns into a lovely experience, wandering around the main part of the hotel complex. It’s dark now, and the buildings and even many of the flower beds are floodlit in warm colours. The air is rich with fruity, unfamiliar blossoms and the heat, which is still noticeable but no longer oppressive, adds to it a taste like burnt sugar. The only disappointment is a sign forbidding use of the
pools at night. In Jody’s view this would be the perfect time for a swim.
By the main pool they discover a thriving bar area with twenty-five or thirty tables, nearly all of them occupied. The focus is on a makeshift auditorium at one end, where a young man is playing what sounds like traditional music on a violin. Not the sort of thing they’d normally go for – the kids especially – but in this setting it’s an enchanting sound.
They all stop to listen, and Sam gestures at the bar. ‘We could get a drink.’
She looks at the children, who actually seem to have revived a bit. It’s Jody who is ready to drop. ‘Do you mind if we don’t?’
Back in the room, they take it in turns to use the bathroom. The kids investigate the TV, but all they find is an ancient episode of The Simpsons, dubbed into some incomprehensible language. Grace reads for a while, and Dylan is allowed to play games on Jody’s phone. At nine o’clock it’s lights out for that end of the room, and within minutes they’re both sparko.
Thirty seconds later, Jody and Sam are in bed, too. The air-conditioning’s up high and it’s cooled the room enough for them to snuggle together without discomfort. They laugh about how early it is, bemoaning their own lack of energy. Sam says he’s as tired as if he’d spent the day painting ceilings.
‘This has been more fun, though, hasn’t it?’ Jody asks.
‘Yeahhh.’ He sounds doubtful. ‘No, definitely.’
‘Really? Because at times I felt you were regretting it.’
He shrugs, his smile fading to something more complicated. ‘That’s just me, I suppose.’
He’s been stroking her stomach for a minute or two. Now he moves upwards, tracing a soft line over her breasts. Jody yawns, but he doesn’t take offence. He’s yawning himself.
‘That Trevor and Kay,’ Sam says. ‘Sniff a lot, don’t they?’
‘Mm. As if nothing’s ever quite good enough.’
‘Yeah. Or maybe they’re cokeheads.’
It’s such an unlikely image that Jody splutters with laughter, and Sam has to shush her, for fear of waking the children. He’s still caressing her, and when she reaches for him, it’s a friendly contact rather than a sexy one – which is surely the best you can hope for after more than ten years and two kids.
