Girls' Night In

by Jessica Adams

  ‘Well, it did say suitable for families, and it did say this was a quiet area in the brochure,’ Sophie pointed out reasonably.

  ‘I wonder, would they move us to Palma Nova if I kicked up a fuss?’ Melissa asked hopefully.

  ‘Let’s give it a chance for a day or two until we get our bearings. It’s only ten minutes by taxi to Palma Nova anyway; the rep told us last night when you were asleep.’

  ‘Oh, OK then. But if it’s dead quiet, were moving and that’s it,’ Melissa declared as she marched back into the bedroom. ‘Let’s go and see what they serve for breakfast in that snack bar by the pool.’

  ‘Yes, let’s. I’m starving. And I’m dying for a cup of coffee. Then we can explore.’ Sophie didn’t care if the apartment wasn’t exactly the Ritz. She was in Majorca, the sun was shining and the beach beckoned.

  They breakfasted on fresh coffee, croissants, crusty white rolls and jam and fruit. Even Melissa had to admit that it was tasty.

  ‘Let’s go to the marina and see if we can nab a millionaire,’ she suggested gaily. Her humour was improving by the minute.

  Sophie heaved a mental sigh of relief. Maybe they were going to have a great holiday.

  ‘This is where we’re going to breakfast from now on,’ Melissa announced joyfully an hour later as they strolled along the sea front cafés. A fifteen-minute walk from their apartment block had brought them to a completely different world. ‘This is where I was born to be.’ Melissa was giddy with excitement.

  Yachts filled with beautiful people bobbed up and down on the gentle waves. The chic designer boutiques oozed sophistication. There were no prices on display. It was that kind of place.

  Melissa sashayed along in her tight white shorts and bikini top, black glass hiding her eyes, for all the world like a film star. Sophie in her denim shorts and black T-shirt felt lumpy and frumpy beside her.

  ‘Let’s go to the beach. It’s getting hot. I’d like to go for a swim,’ she ventured.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Soph. We have to do some serious strutting here!’ Melissa smiled enticingly at a tanned, gigolo type in a cream Armani suit.

  Gigolo smiled back.

  ‘See,’ Melissa whispered.

  ‘Mel, you can strut – I’m going to the beach over there and I’m flopping.’

  Gigolo was ogling Melissa from head to toe.

  ‘See you on the beach. I’ll get a lounger for you,’ Sophie offered.

  ‘Fine,’ Melissa said snootily. ‘If you want to miss the chance of a lifetime to go and slob out on a lounger, do it! I’m staying here.’

  ‘Have fun,’ Sophie said drily as Cream-Suited-Gigolo flashed a toothy grin at Melissa.

  Melissa smiled demurely back and fluttered her eyelashes.

  Sophie left her to it.

  The beach was a golden, curved crescent of paradise. Pine trees fringed the edge of the cliffs. White-crested wisps of waves lapped the shore.

  Off the beaten track, it wasn’t crowded like the big resort beaches with their serried rows of white loungers. This beach was a little jewel dotted with coconut umbrellas and delightful green loungers that could be hired for the day.

  A small island lay about a mile offshore. There were no motor boats or hang gliders or pedalos in sight. It was a most peaceful place. Sophie chose two loungers, laid her towel on one, stripped to her black M&S bikini, lay down, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was in heaven. It was too relaxing even to read. A balmy little breeze whispered around her, the sea murmured its soothing, rhythmic lullaby. Sophie fell asleep.

  Melissa joined her several hours later. She was on a high.

  ‘Remember that guy?’ she asked excitedly. ‘He asked me would I like coffee. His name is Paulo and he’s absolutely loaded! He’s staying on a yacht with friends; they’re cruising around the islands for a month. Imagine! He asked me out to dinner tonight. What will I wear, Sophie? It will have to be something ultra sophisticated. Do you think the little black silk dress I brought would be OK?’

  ‘It will be fine.’ Sophie tried to sound enthusiastic. Melissa hadn’t wasted any time. It looked like Sophie would be dining alone tonight. Her heart sank. Just as well she had plenty of books to read.

  ‘I’d better get some serious sunbathing done before tonight.’ Melissa unhooked her bikini top and slathered on some Hawaiian Tropic. ‘Sophie, it’s great that we came to this place. I’d never have met anybody like Paulo in Palma Nova. That marina is mega posh.’ She gave a positively beatific smile as she slid elegantly on to her lounger, stretched out and closed her eyes.

  Sophie tried not to feel envious as she surveyed her friend. Melissa had everything. Looks, fabulous figure, bubbly personality. No wonder she was never manless for long. A deep sigh came from her toes as she looked at her own tummy that was not flat and taut like Melissa’s but curved and rounded with a little soft, jelly sort of bulge, no matter how tight she held her muscles in. Her thighs were dimpled at the top, unlike Melissa’s firm, toned, satiny-skinned ones. And there was no denying that she had thick ankles, Sophie thought glumly as she surveyed Melissa’s shapely turned ankles and perfectly pedicured feet.

  She felt disgruntled … and hungry.

  ‘Will we have some lunch?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh God, no! I couldn’t eat a thing, I’m so excited.’ Melissa yawned. ‘Besides, Paulo bought me a gorgeous cake with the coffee, earlier.’

  ‘Well, I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast. I’ll just go and get something myself.’ Sophie pulled on her sundress, grabbed her bag and flounced off.

  ‘Enjoy it,’ Melissa called airily after her. She hadn’t even noticed that Sophie was annoyed.

  Bitch! thought Sophie, simmering with resentment. Denise was right. Melissa was so self-centred she thought the world revolved around her. Barely their first day on holidays and Sophie would have to eat alone twice.

  She climbed the curving wooden steps up the side of the cliff and tried not to pant. She was so unfit it was a disaster. Still there was nothing she could do about it now. She might as well treat herself to something tasty for lunch, she decided. Food was always a great comforter.

  Besides, it was quite nice to sit at a shaded table outside the clifftop restaurant and tuck into deep-fried squid in batter with a crispy, crunchy side salad and sip ice-cold San Miguel beer.

  It was her fifth day alone. She might as well have come on a singles holiday after all, Sophie reflected as she lay on the lounger in her favourite spot on the beach. Melissa had spent two days with Paulo after the first momentous dinner-date.

  ‘You don’t mind, lovie. He’s such a pet. You should hear the gorgeous things he says to me and he’s such a gentleman. He’s really smitten, Soph,’ Melissa twittered as she changed into yet another outfit for a shopping trip to Palma. That night she arrived back at the apartment, eyes aglow.

  ‘You’ll never guess, Soph? Paulo has asked me to go to Ibiza on the yacht. I’m so excited.’

  ‘How long are you going for?’ Sophie demanded. She was furious.

  ‘Don’t be like that, Soph,’ Melissa muttered defensively. ‘This is the chance of a lifetime. Paulo is just what I need after The Rat.’

  ‘Look, Melissa, you asked me to come on holiday with you. So far we’ve had one breakfast together and I’ve been left to my own devices ever since. You’re being really selfish and I don’t think much of your behaviour,’ Sophie exploded.

  ‘No, you’re being selfish!’ Melissa rounded on her. ‘This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me and if you were truly my friend you wouldn’t be so mean.’ She took her case from the wardrobe and began to pack. Sophie felt like thumping her. How typical of Melissa to turn the argument to her advantage.

  They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. The following morning Sophie kept her head under the pillow until she heard Melissa leave the apartment, dragging her case behind her.

  So much for the gentleman, he didn’t even come to collect the cow, she thought grumpily
as she heard the click-clack of Melissa’s white high heels fade away.

  Surprisingly, once her anger and resentment had abated somewhat, Sophie had actually enjoyed herself. She spent her days on the beach, reading, swimming, watching the incredibly confident, affluent young Spaniards who congregated after school. It was an entertainment in itself. At night she took a taxi to Palma Nova, ate at one of the beach-side restaurants and then browsed around the myriad of shops before going home to sit on her patio with her book and an ice-cold Malibu. The days melted into one another and Sophie realized that being on holiday alone was not half as daunting as she’d imagined. It was a liberation of sorts to know that she was perfectly capable of enjoying herself alone.

  She was enjoying the late afternoon rays, immersed in her crime novel, when a child’s piercing scream rent the air. Sophie looked up to see a little Spanish girl of about four howling in pain as her elderly grandfather tried to comfort her. She had seen them come to the beach every afternoon and thought they were so sweet. The grandfather doted on the little girl and made magnificent sand castles to entertain her.

  Sophie jumped up and hurried over. ‘Can I help? I’m a nurse,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, thank you very much. Maria has been stung.’ The man spoke perfect English.

  Sophie soothed the little girl then turned to the grandfather. ‘Could you get me some vinegar from the restaurant and I’ll remove the sting and put some cream on it.’ The old man spoke in rapid Spanish to a young student nearby who raced off up the steps towards the restaurant.

  Sophie kept talking in calm, comforting tones to the little girl, who has stopped screaming but whimpered pitifully.

  She squealed again as Sophie applied the vinegar and removed the sting, but once the balm of antiseptic cream had done its trick she was soon playing again, the incident forgotten.

  The grandfather was effusive in his thanks. ‘My daughter is pregnant and Maria’s nanny had to return to Madrid as her mother is very ill. So I’ve been looking after her in the afternoons,’ he explained. ‘I am Juan Santander.’ He held out his hand.

  ‘Sophie Irvine,’ Sophie recriprocated.

  They chatted easily for a while. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

  ‘Your friend has not come back?’ Juan remarked. ‘She was here with you just one day.’

  How observant, Sophie thought.

  ‘She went on a cruise to Ibiza.’

  ‘Did you not want to go?’ Juan enquired.

  ‘I wasn’t asked.’ Sophie laughed.

  ‘I see.’ His eyes were kind. ‘You will be here tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We will see you then.’ Juan gathered up his granddaughter’s bits and pieces. ‘Tomorrow.’

  The following afternoon, Sophie smiled as she saw the pair make their descent down the steps. Maria raced over to proudly show off her bandage.

  Juan winked. ‘For such an injury a bandage was necessary. May we join you?’

  ‘Please do,’ Sophie invited.

  ‘I wonder, would you consider something?’ Juan asked. ‘I told my daughter what had happened and that you were a nurse and that your friend had left you alone. We wondered if perhaps you would like to come and stay with us for a few days in our villa up in the hills? We have a pool and lovely grounds and it is most comfortable. My daughter is looking for someone to mind Maria and the new baby for at least six months. Maybe you might be interested in the position. If you spent a few days with us, you would know if it is something you would like.’

  Sophie’s eyes widened. It seemed a fantastic proposition. Leave dreary, humid, stuffy old London and spend six months in this paradise. It sounded like a dream.

  To her amazement she heard herself say, ‘I’d love to.’

  ‘Excellent. Can you come today?’

  ‘I’ll just go up to the apartment and get my things.’

  ‘We’ll collect you. Just give me the address,’ Juan instructed. ‘We will pick you up in an hour, won’t we, Maria?’ He spoke in Spanish to his little granddaughter.

  ‘Si, si.’ The little girl hopped up and down with excitement.

  ‘See you in an hour then.’ Sophie couldn’t believe how impulsive she was being. But this was the chance of a lifetime.

  She had just packed her books when the door of the apartment burst open. Melissa appeared, red-eyed and on crutches.

  ‘Thank God I’m here. That bastard was so callous. I broke my leg in Ibiza and he couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. I even had to get a taxi at the marina. They let me off and then they sailed away. Can you believe it?’ Melissa burst into tears. ‘My luggage is in reception – can you collect it for me?’ she sniffled.

  ‘Sure.’ Sophie’s heart sank as she headed off to reception. Trust Melissa to do something dramatic and break her leg. She saw a big silver Mercedes drive up to the entrance. It was Juan and Maria. She couldn’t really go with them now and leave Melissa.

  She’d leave you, a little voice said. Sophie stood stock-still. What kind of a fool was she? Melissa wouldn’t think twice about putting herself first. It was time Sophie did the same. For once in her life she was going to do something spontaneous. She lugged Melissa’s case back to the apartment.

  ‘Why is your bag packed? Where are you going?’ Melissa demanded as Sophie hauled the case into the bedroom.

  ‘To stay with friends,’ she said jauntily.

  ‘What friends? You don’t have friends here,’ Melissa snorted.

  ‘Yes I do. Look out the window. See that silver car over at reception?’

  Melissa’s jaw dropped. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Sorry I can’t stay and explain, Mel. Have to go.’

  ‘But you can’t go!’ Melissa was incredulous. ‘You can’t leave me! My leg is broken. I’m on crutches. How will I manage?’

  ‘You’ll be fine. We’re on the ground floor. You can eat by the pool. You can sunbathe. The rep will bring you to the airport. No worries.’ Sophie was enjoying herself.

  ‘But you’re a nurse. You have a duty to sick people!’ Melissa raged. This wasn’t the Sophie she knew. ‘You can’t leave me here on my own!’ she fumed.

  ‘Watch me,’ Sophie drawled as she lifted her bag from the bed.

  ‘Good-bye, Melissa. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. I know I’m going to. To tell you the truth it’s the best holiday I ever had.’

  A Year Later

  ‘Did you hear about Sophie Irvine? She’s engaged to some wealthy Spanish doctor she met when she was working in Majorca. They’re getting married next month, Denise was telling me. Flying the whole family out to Majorca for the wedding!’ Angie O’Neill told Melissa as they tidied up the salon after a very busy day.

  Melissa’s fingers curled and her lips tightened with envy. What a bitch that Sophie Irvine had turned out to be. Leaving her alone in that grotty little apartment with a broken leg. She hadn’t seen her from that day to this. And now to hear that she was engaged to a rich Spanish doctor. Was there no justice in the world?

  ‘Don’t mention that girl’s name to me. I thought she was a friend. Little did I know until she stabbed me in the back.’

  ‘She stabbed you in the back!’ Angie was astonished.

  ‘Not literally, you idiot,’ Melissa snapped. ‘I invited her to go on holiday and then she met these people and left me in the lurch, on my own with a broken leg. Can you believe that?’

  ‘Really? I’d never have thought it of Sophie. She sounds like a bit of a fairweather friend. Just as well you have me to go on holiday with this year,’ Angie soothed. ‘I wouldn’t do anything like that.’

  ‘I know, sweetie.’ Melissa smiled. ‘You’ll love where we’re going to. It has a marina full of yachts and rich people. It will be the best holiday ever.’

  ‘I can’t wait!’ exclaimed Angie excitedly. ‘Thanks for inviting me to come.’

  ‘You’re very welcome,’ said Melissa graciously. ‘Could you be a pet and finish off here? I’ve a thumping heada
che.’

  ‘Oh! OK,’ Angie murmured. Funny how Melissa always got a thumping headache on Friday evenings when the salon had to be cleaned.

  ‘See you at the airport tomorrow.’

  Melissa swanned out of the salon leaving her new best friend to tidy up. Angie would be an excellent holiday companion, she thought with satisfaction. Not like the soon-to-be-married Judas Irvine.

  Clare Naylor

  Clare Naylor is a novelist and scriptwriter. Her books include The Goddess Rules and The Second Assistant and her original screenplay The Accidental Husband was made into film starring Uma Thurman and Colin Firth. As well as scripts for film and television she also writes the Wry Society column for the Financial Times' How to Spend it. She lives in London with her husband and two young children.

  Something Different

  Clare Naylor

  ‘It might help if you were in a car accident.’ Tim had said to Anna. She looked at him with a squint of the eye. Wondering if she’d heard him correctly. ‘If you were in a coma or something then I’d realize how much I loved you. How we’re meant to be together forever and I’d be overcome with the urge to marry you.’

  ‘So if I were to die you’d want me back?’ Anna asked, unable to process the car accident revelation.

  ‘Yeah, I really think I would.’ Tim said as though this in itself were a declaration of the most romantic sort.

  ‘But as it is you’re leaving me? Think you can do better?’ She continued picking the scab of their five-year relationship. She didn’t want to be left with a shiny white scar but neither could she help herself from nudging away at the edges until a little bead of blood popped out.

  ‘It’s not that. It’s just that if you have green beans every night for five years you get a bit bored. Kind of want something else.’ Tim sat on her bed and continued to look as appealing as he always had despite having just revealed his true self, his soul, as a rotting, stinking Freddy Krueger type of man. He was certainly not Julian Sands in A Room With a View as she’d once imagined. Though his hair was blond.