PATRICIA SCANLAN
FAIR-WEATHER
FRIEND
Patricia Scanlan is the author of ten Number One best-selling novels, City Girl, City Lives, City Woman, Apartment 3B, Finishing Touches, Foreign Affairs, Mirror Mirror, Promises Promises, Francesca’s Party and Two for Joy. Her first adult literacy book, Second Chance, was published in 1997 and her second, Ripples, in 1999. She lives in Dublin.
FAIR-WEATHER FRIEND
First published by GemmaMedia in 2009.
GemmaMedia
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Boston MA 02109 USA
617 938 9833
www.gemmamedia.com
Copyright © 2004, 2009 Patricia Scanlan
This edition of Fair-Weather Friend is published by arrangement with New Island Books Ltd.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Printed in the United States of America
13 12 11 10 09 1 2 3 4 5
ISBN: 978-1-934848-31-9
Cover design by Artmark
Library of Congress Preassigned Control Number (PCN) applied for
OPEN DOOR SERIES
An innovative program of original
works by some of our most
beloved modern writers and
important new voices. First designed
to enhance adult literacy in Ireland,
these books affirm the truth that
a story doesn’t have
to be big to open the world.
Patricia Scanlan
Series Editor
Chapter One
‘Why do you bother going on holidays with Melissa Harris? She’s such a cow. She only uses you, you know,’ Denise Mason said crossly. She ate some chicken korma and took a sip of white wine.
Sophie glared at her sister. ‘She’s not that bad!’ she snapped. She dipped a piece of naan bread into her tikka sauce. She was annoyed and did not try to hide it.
‘Oh come on, Sophie, she’s a walking cow. She always has been. She drops you like a hot potato as soon as there’s a bloke on the scene. Then you don’t see her for dust until she’s been dumped. When she needs a shoulder to cry on she’s back in double-quick time.’
Sophie made a face. ‘Stop giving out.’
‘I’m not giving out,’ Denise said. ‘I’m just telling you things for your own good. You’re too soft with her. You always have been. It’s time you told her where to get off.
‘Remember last year? You were supposed to go on holidays with her. She dropped you at the last minute because she met Mister Wonderful. She took off to Spain with him. What kind of a so-called friend is that?’ Denise pronged a stuffed mushroom and ate it with relish.
Sophie looked at her younger sister with envy. Denise could eat and drink all round her. She never put on an ounce. Sophie would be up two pounds at least on the scales after this pig-out.
‘What happened to Mister Wonderful anyway?’ Denise topped up their wineglasses. ‘I thought they were going back to Spain this year.’
‘She found out that he was two-timing her. She’s in bits. Really she is, Denise. I’ve never seen her this bad,’ Sophie said earnestly. ‘She was crazy about Tony. Nuts about him. He was the love of her life.’
‘Don’t be daft, Sophie!’ Denise scoffed. ‘How could he be the love of her life? She’s so much in love with herself, there’s no room for anyone else.’
‘Oh leave her alone,’ Sophie muttered.
‘Well I would have told her where to get off if she had asked me to go on holidays with only a week’s notice. I would have said no,’ Denise retorted, helping herself to some of the aloo saag. ‘She’s using you. Can’t you see that?’
It’s all right for you, Sophie thought glumly. She studied her bright-eyed, well-groomed, very confident younger sister. Denise had friends to beat the band. Men fell over themselves trying to get a date with her. She breezed through life with not a care in the world. She was very much the woman about town. She worked in the PR department of a large publishing company. At the age of twenty-two, Denise drove her own company car.
Sophie was two years older. She drove an old Fiesta that she’d had for the last four years. She was a children’s nurse. While she enjoyed her job, she felt that her life lacked the glamour and excitement of her sister’s.
Her two closest friends had got married within six months of each other. In the last two years she’d had no one to go on holidays with. The idea of going on a singles holiday filled her with dread. So she had taken up the offer of two weeks in Majorca with Melissa Harris – much to her sister’s annoyance.
Sophie sighed and took a slug of her Australian wine. The Indian meal she’d been looking forward to with Denise was turning into a lecture. The only fights she ever had with Denise were over Melissa Harris. Denise and Melissa had never got on. They never would. It made life very difficult sometimes – like right now. She drank some more wine while Denise kept on and on about what a user Melissa was. She remembered something her father used to say when she was small: ‘The truth always hurts.’ She didn’t like when Denise called Melissa a user. Because if Melissa was a user, Sophie was the one being used. And no one liked to feel they were being used.
Chapter Two
She’d known Melissa since her schooldays: blonde, blue-eyed, bubbly and very, very selfish.
Melissa was the centre of the universe in her own eyes. Or, as Denise cruelly called her, the Queen of the Me, Me, Me Planet. She was an only child, spoilt by doting parents. Melissa swanned through life taking adoration as her due.
In Sophie, she had the perfect handmaiden. It had been so from that first moment in the playground when Melissa had decided that she preferred Sophie’s little black-velvet bow to the red ribbon that held her own golden pony-tail.
Sophie had handed over the bow without a peep. She was spellbound by Melissa’s baby-blue eyes. Eyes that had the most perfect long black lashes. The invitation to join Melissa’s gang filled her with joy. The entire class longed to be a member of Melissa’s gang. Only the chosen few were given the honour. And the honour was withdrawn regularly, depending on Melissa’s mood and whim. Sophie would often find herself on the outside of the golden circle until Melissa had need of her services again.
This was the pattern of their friendship, through childhood, through their teens and while Melissa studied to become a beauty consultant and Sophie was a student nurse. Weeks could go by and Sophie wouldn’t hear a peep from Melissa. Then some crisis would occur. Melissa would arrive at Sophie and Denise’s flat in search of tender loving care and sympathy. She would sob over her latest heartbreak and declare ‘All Men Are Bastards.’
Tony Jenkins was the most recent addition to the All Men Are Bastard’s list. He and Melissa had been about to take Spain by storm. Sadly, Melissa had discovered him in a steamy clinch with a work-mate at a friend’s engagement party. It seemed they were having a rip-roaring affair. Before she left the party, she had thrown red wine over her rival’s brand-new white Versace halter-neck. It had been a very gratifying moment she told Sophie. Then she burst into tears.
‘I really loved him.’ Melissa wept. ‘I just don’t understand what he sees in her, Sophie. She’s an awful airhead and she’s got a flabby bum! When I think of all the times I did work on her hairy lip. I should have let the needle slip and scarred the sly cow for life.’
Sophie made a mental note never to let Melissa do work on her. Not that Melissa ever did beauty treatments for her now that she was qualified. It had been a different kettle of fish when she’d been training and needed g
uinea-pigs. Sophie had been manicured, pedicured and French polished. She had been tweezed and waxed within an inch of her life. That had been painful! Sophie had never waxed her legs again after what she had gone through with Melissa. The pain when Melissa had pulled off the strips had brought tears to her eyes.
‘Sissy,’ Melissa had jeered. Sophie had been raging. Her friend was so ungrateful. She took so much for granted. But mad as she was with Melissa, she was madder at herself for being such a doormat. Would she never learn?
When Melissa had asked her to let her practise waxing again before her finals, Sophie had told her to get lost. It was one of the few times she didn’t give in to her friend’s pleadings. There had been a frosty silence for weeks. Then Melissa had found out that the hairdresser she thought she had fallen in love with was gay. That had been a mega trauma. There had been weeks of sobbing on Sophie’s shoulder about her heart being truly broken.
‘I’ll never fall in love again,’ Melissa had stated dramatically. Then she had met Tony Jenkins and fallen hook, line and sinker. She’d even sunk to a new low in their friendship. She’d ditched Sophie to go on holidays with her new boyfriend. Denise had been hopping mad when she heard the news. ‘Don’t you dare ever speak to that bitch again. If I get my hands on her I’ll murder her,’ she yelled. Sophie didn’t know which was worse, Denise’s rantings or Melissa’s betrayal.
Sophie hadn’t spoken to Melissa for months. It was the longest they hadn’t spoken. Then Christmas had come and her soft heart got the better of her when Melissa sent her a Christmas card.
Now that the divine Tony had done the dirty on Melissa, she had come running to Sophie for comfort. This new disaster was the trauma of traumas, Sophie decided as she watched her friend pace the room.
‘That tart is going to Spain with him. Can you believe it?’ Melissa was bursting with rage. Her flawless pale skin was red with temper. ‘Sophie, you simply have to come on holidays with me. I’m damned if flabby-bum Jane is going to come into the salon sporting a tan and showing off photos of her and The Rat.
‘We’ll go somewhere and get the best tan ever and find the most gorgeous hunks to take care of us. Our photos will make that rat pea-green with envy. I’ll make sure he gets to see them. But even if he comes crawling back on his hands and knees, he’s history, Sophie. I’ll go straight to the travel agent tomorrow and book a holiday for us.’
Melissa of course assumed that Sophie would drop everything and be thrilled to go on holidays with her.
‘I don’t know. It’s very short notice. I wasn’t planning to go abroad,’ Sophie protested. ‘I’m a bit strapped for cash.’
‘Don’t be silly, Sophie. What do you mean short notice? You’re not doing anything are you? You weren’t planning on going away were you?’ Melissa demanded. ‘I’m broke too. When I found out about The Rat and that two-faced so-called friend, I went out and blew a fortune on a little black dress. It’s to die for, Sophie, but my Visa card is having a nervous breakdown. It will have to be a cheap holiday for me too. But who cares? You and I will strut our stuff on the beach and we won’t have to spend a penny,’ Melissa said confidently. Her eyes were shining at the thought of her next conquest. She couldn’t wait to letTony Jenkins see that he wasn’t the only man in the universe.
A fortnight in the sun would be nice, Sophie thought dreamily. Lazing on a lounger with a big, fat blockbuster novel and an ice-cold beer or a glass of chilled wine. Melissa could strut her perfectly toned and sculptured stuff. Sophie would be quite content to lie on her lounger, her flabby bits not being at all suitable for strutting.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later they were sitting in a bar at the airport. They were waiting to board a TransAer flight to Majorca. They had been delayed for three hours. Melissa was fit to be tied.
‘This is bloody daft. The plane hasn’t even left Palma yet. We’re going to be here for hours! That’s a whole day wasted. It will be the middle of the night before we get to … Portal … Portal … wherever that place we’re going to is.’
‘Portal Nous,’ Sophie murmured.
‘I hope it’s going to be a bit lively. It’s three miles from Palma Nova. It was all I could get at such short notice,’ Melissa fretted.
‘It will be fine, Melissa, stop panicking,’ Sophie said, trying not to loose her cool. ‘Now let’s have coffee and a sandwich. I’m a bit peckish.’
Her nerves were frayed. Melissa had whined and moaned non-stop about their delayed flight. Then she’d started on about the awful betrayal she had suffered at the hands of The Rat. It was doing Sophie’s head in.
‘Oh no, not coffee! Let’s go and get pissed.’ Melissa flung back her golden hair and stood up from the hard chair she’d been sitting on. She was quite aware that every male eye in the lounge was upon her. She swanned towards the bar in her skin-tight white jeans and tightly fitting black halter-neck.
Sophie’s heart sank. If Melissa went on the sauce she was in for a hard time. Melissa, unfortunately, could not drink. She always needed looking after when she was the worse for wear. Many were the times Sophie had hauled Melissa into loos or shoved her head out of taxi windows as she threw up all round her. If she started drinking with hours to go before their flight it would be a disaster.
‘Now Melissa go easy. You’ve already had three tequila slammers,’ she warned.
‘Oh stop it, Sophie. You’re not my mother!’ Melissa snapped as she ordered another drink. ‘Do you want one?’ she asked crossly.
‘OK, I’ll have a Bud,’ Sophie agreed. It might shut Melissa up for a while. She’d be happy enough to sit in the boarding area and read one of the six books she had brought with her. She couldn’t decide which to start with. The second Bridget Jones or the latest John Grisham thriller. She was so looking forward to getting into them. Sophie liked reading. She liked being taken into another world. She liked getting away from her own boring life for a while. Melissa thought reading was a waste of time.
Three hours later, Melissa was well and truly plastered. She had puked twice. Now she was draped across a tall, dark, arty type who was waiting on a flight to Greece.
‘We should change our flight and go to Greece …’ she slurred gaily.
‘Off you go,’ muttered Sophie. She was very pissed off.
Two hours after that they finally boarded their flight. Melissa promptly fell asleep. She snored loudly for the duration, her head resting on Sophie’s shoulder. Sophie couldn’t believe her luck. She pulled Bridget Jones out of her travel bag and laughed her way across France and Spain. Beside her Melissa’s musical snores drowned out the roar of the jet engines.
Unfortunately, a bumpy descent into Palma airport disturbed both Melissa and her stomach. For the third time that day, Sophie resisted the urge to drown her in a toilet bowl.
It took another hour to collect their luggage. Then they had to find the coach that was to bring them to their apartment. Sophie found it hard to keep her eyes open as the air-conditioned coach finally sped along the motorway towards their destination. She half-listened to the rep as she reminded her clients to use lots of sun factor protection. Grinning, the rep also warned them not to drink too much San Miguel.
Melissa was green-faced. She groaned at the thought of beer. She promised herself she was never going to drink again. Once again she fell asleep. Her snores rippled around the bus. Sophie tried to pretend that she didn’t know her. She stared out into the darkness and was sorry she had come.
Chapter Four
By the time the coach pulled into the small two-storey apartment block, Sophie was wrecked. It didn’t look ultra-modern she noted as they stopped outside a tatty-looking building. It had white, flaking paint and two pots of dried-out, wilting flowers at the entrance. The tiles were cracked and grubby.
She was too tired to care as a sullen receptionist took their passports and handed her the key to room 103. They were the only passengers to get off the coach so at least the check-in was quick. Sophie yawned wearily
as they click-clacked their way down a brown tiled floor, dragging their luggage behind them.
‘It’s a bit kippy,’ Melissa moaned as Sophie struggled to get the big black key to turn in the lock.
Basic was how Sophie would have described it. She switched on the light to see a white-painted room, furnished with a shabby sofa and two chairs with cigarette burns on the arms. A pine table and four chairs stood opposite the French doors. A small kitchen had a two-ring cooker, sink and noisy fridge.
The bedroom had a built-in wardrobe whose doors didn’t close properly. There were two beds, each with a small bedside locker. The bathroom, decorated in mustard-coloured tiles, was not a place she’d spend too long in, she decided. It was three in the morning. She was exhausted. Melissa’s shrieks of dismay were the last thing she needed.
‘Let’s go to bed. You chose the apartment, Melissa. It’s not my fault. I’ve had a long day. I don’t want to hear any more about it. I’ve had enough, so zip it,’ she exploded as she pulled off her T-shirt and jeans and dived into the nearest bed.
‘There’s no need to be like that,’ Melissa sniffed huffily as she undressed. ‘Can I have some of your bottled water to wash my teeth? My mouth tastes horrible.’ Melissa of course would never be so organised as to have bottled water. That’s what Sophies were for.
‘Help yourself.’ Sophie yawned as she pulled the white sheet over her and buried her head under the long, thin pillow on the narrow bed. At least the sheets were crisp and clean, she thought drowsily. Minutes later she was fast asleep.
She awoke, she had no idea how much later, to high-pitched screeches coming from a frantic Melissa in the other bed.
‘Get away from me! Get away from me!’
Dazed, Sophie sat up trying to remember where she was. Melissa was yelling like a madwoman. Her arms and legs were flailing in the dark. The unmistakable buzzzzz of a mosquito gave a clue to the cause of the drama.
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