by Anna Bell
My mum waves her hand as if to bat away my worry.
‘I’m sure she can spend it with her fiancé. Come on, Lydia. You know your mother always knows best. You need a holiday – trust me.’
I blow on my coffee before taking a sip.
‘I think it’ll be great. I’d love to go away by myself for a few days,’ says Kerry. ‘Hint, hint, Mother, for next year.’
‘Well, I don’t want you to feel left out. Here’s Jim’s present.’
Jim takes an envelope from Mum and jiggles his eyebrows at the mystery. He usually gets socks and a Jeremy Clarkson DVD.
‘A night for two at the Four Seasons,’ he says, reading it out like he’s revealing the prize on a game show.
Kerry snaps her head round to look at our mum.
‘Seeing as we’re not all going to the spa this year, you can stay for the night after with Jim and I’ll look after Olivia.’
Kerry practically knocks me out as she throws her arms around Mum.
‘Thanks, Mum, best present ever,’ she says, looking at me.
I look down at my plane ticket. I’m not entirely sure if I agree.
‘You’ll love it. Take some books and some box sets. Have a good think about everything,’ says my mum, sounding sage.
‘But what about Lucy?’
‘Your problem is that you think too much about everyone else. Stop and do something for yourself, Lydia.’
‘Trust me,’ says Kerry. ‘One day, when you’ve got kids, you’ll look at that time you spent on your own and wish you’d done it more often.’
‘But I’ve never been on holiday on my own before.’
‘All the more reason to do it. Didn’t you say that you were looking for new challenges?’
‘But isn’t it a bit risky travelling by myself?’
Responsible Lydia isn’t known for taking risks.
‘I’m sending you to Spain, not deepest darkest Peru. Think of it as an adventure.’
I stare down at the ticket. Wasn’t I just thinking that I needed to do something to find my sparkle? Maybe this could be just the thing.
Chapter Five
So Kerry and Jim finally had their baby! Only a week and half late. They’ve called her Olivia Grace, cute or what? I’ve attached a pic so you can see her in all her wrinkled glory. I’m nipping into the hospital to see her later on – can’t wait to give her a big squeeze. Then I’m jetting off this afternoon for a week in Majorca with my housemates Lucy and Caroline. Stand by for a new fridge magnet . . .
Email; Lydia to Danny, February 2012
‘Thank you so much for giving me a lift. It was totally above and beyond, but so appreciated,’ I say, as Lucy pulls into the airport complex.
‘Please, I did it as much for me as for you. I had to get away from Ed’s mum. Her ideas about the wedding were doing my head in. Anyone would think she’s marrying Ed,’ she sighs loudly. ‘I was almost tempted to bring my passport and come with you.’
‘You totally should have done.’ I’d have loved nothing more than to spend a few days away with my bestie. I can’t help being a bit scared about going away alone. I keep telling myself that it’s nothing to freak out about, it’s just a trip to Spain – no big deal – but it is to me.
‘No, it’s not fair. Your mum was right, you need some time to figure everything out.’
‘But how am I going to figure everything out when I don’t know what’s wrong with me? I’ve got a good job, good friends and family, but I feel as if I’m missing out on something.’
‘Maybe you need to move out of Kerry’s.’
‘Maybe. I don’t know where I’d go though. I can’t afford to rent somewhere nice by myself and I don’t know if I can face a house share. It’s just so confusing.’
I sigh heavily as I look out of the window.
‘Do you think you’re living your best life?’ I ask as she turns into the short-stay car park.
She gives me a smirk as she takes a ticket. ‘Totally. But then everyone is; it’s just about how you look at it.’
I frown. I’m not so sure.
‘Listen,’ says Lucy, squeezing my hand as I try not to cry, ‘I didn’t want to upset you. This is a really exciting opportunity for you to have some time to yourself, I just want you to use it well and not spend the whole time watching Modern Family box sets.’
She knows me too well. She parks the car and we get out.
She opens up the boot and I pull out my case, then she hands me a little black bag with a bow on it.
‘I thought we’d already done Christmas presents?’
‘Just open it.’
I peel back the tissue paper in the bag and pull out a racy black basque. I hastily shove it back in the bag as a family goes past wheeling their cases.
‘What the hell is this?’ I say looking at her.
‘Something to take with you.’
‘Um, I’m going by myself. I’ve packed plenty of appropriate giant knickers.’
‘Which is exactly what I thought you’d do. This is just in case you find yourself a sexy Spaniard. Have you packed any condoms?’
‘Um no, as I’m going by myself,’ I say again, slowly so that she understands.
‘Yes, but if this was a rom-com, you’d meet the man of your dreams at the airport and he’d whisk you away to his chateau – oh no, hang on, what’s a castle in Spanish – castillo?’
‘My life is definitely not a rom-com,’ I say, rolling my eyes and handing her back the bag. ‘The only reason I would have packed condoms would have been for practical reasons, like our old geography teacher once said – they come in handy for all sorts. Like putting a used roll of film in just in case your back pack gets wet.’
‘Right, since when do you have film in your camera?’
‘That was just an example. I’m sure they work equally well for putting memory cards in.’
Lucy’s trying hard not to laugh.
‘Well, in case you have a film slash memory card slash sexy man emergency,’ she says, pulling out a pack from her coat pocket and shoving them into my handbag.
‘I guess it doesn’t hurt to be prepared for any eventuality,’ I say.
‘Exactly, you never know when some sexy Spaniard will end up in your bed.’
I tut before laughing. I hadn’t even thought about meeting anyone when I was in Spain. I try not to panic that I haven’t had sex with anyone except Ross for five years and even then in the last year we barely did it. I’m bound to be rusty. Maybe I’ve forgotten how.
I try and banish such stupid thoughts. First, it’s very unlikely I’ll meet anyone to have sex with. Second, it’s sex; everyone does it – so I’m sure it can’t be that hard to remember how. Third, they have good wine in Spain, don’t they? I can ply my man with rioja first so that he doesn’t notice that I’m off my game.
Lucy takes the basque out of the bag and brazenly opens my case and slips it in. I do nothing to stop her; it’s not as if I have to wear it, is it?
‘So this is like the end of an era,’ says Lucy, looping her arm through mine as she walks me towards departures. ‘It’ll be the first New Year in almost seven years that we haven’t spent together.’
‘So it will,’ I say, thinking that makes me feel old.
‘I hope you do meet your sexy Spaniard, I feel a bit bad at the thought that you’re going to be spending New Year all alone.’
‘It’ll just seem like any other night,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders.
‘Do you think? I’ll miss you though.’
‘I know, and I’ll miss you. But it’ll be nice for you and Ed to spend it together. I should have insisted you do that anyway. Look how happy it’s made him.’
‘Maybe, but I would have felt like an awful friend, as you always came out with me and you never spent New Year with Ross.’
We walk into the terminal building and I try not to let the glaring lights dazzle me.
‘I never spent it with Ross because I guess I didn’t re
ally want to kiss him at New Year.’
Lucy gives me a trademark WTF look.
‘It’s as if I didn’t want to kiss him at midnight as it felt like I was pledging to spend the rest of that year with him. You’re always so full of hope and optimism at New Year and for me it’s all wrapped up in that kiss. In my heart of hearts I always knew it was wrong between us, which is why I was never with him. But that’s exactly why you should be with Ed this year. You’re getting married.’
‘But I guess that’s why I thought we should have had our last girls’ New Year.’
‘Come on, Lucy, don’t you remember last year? We were in that awful club and we left before midnight?’
‘Oh God. That awful techno rubbish.’
‘Exactly,’ I say, shivering at the memory. ‘We haven’t had an epic New Year’s for ages. I guess we’ve got to accept things are changing.’
I’m trying not to let tears well up in my eyes again as I know it’s true. Whether I like it or not, next year my life isn’t going to be the same. My best friend’s getting married and if I don’t do something about my life soon, I’ll be left behind. Everyone’s right, I do need this holiday.
We reach my check-in queue and I turn to Lucy and give her a big hug.
‘Thanks for everything.’
‘Send me lots of pictures. I want you to make me jealous.’
‘I will.’
I take a deep breath and give her a wave as I head over to the queue. I’m really doing this, I’m really going away by myself.
*
You know those glam women that you see at the airport. The ones who are dressed in light colours – you know, cream linen trousers, pristine white top, cashmere scarf draped around their shoulders, feet clad in delicate sandals, their make-up flawless and their hair neat – either up or down. Well, that is definitely not me.
I look down at my faded jeans that have yogurt stains all over them and my hoodie that’s splattered with ketchup from the bacon buttie I wolfed down hours ago. My hair is a frizz ball. I straightened it last night but my early start coupled with the plane and bus combo has not helped matters.
I stop walking and blow at a section of hair that’s strewn across my face, only it’s stuck to the sweat that’s broken out on the final ascent to the apartment block. I have to physically move it with my hand. The bus stop was all the way at the bottom of the hill and Hazel’s apartment is near the top. I’ve become a sweaty mess, thanks to dragging my suitcase containing enough toiletries to start my own beauty salon and clothes for any eventuality – thanks, Lucy.
‘Seventy-two, seventy-four,’ I say trying to force myself on. I must be almost there. ‘Where the bloody hell is seventy-six?’
This is my second loop of the apartment complex. I don’t think my calves are up to a third pass and at this point I’m almost willing to start sacrificing my mini cosmetic bottles to make my case lighter.
I see a man walking out of an apartment up ahead of me. A person, a real, live person. I haven’t seen one since I got off the bus.
‘Excuso,’ I shout, waving over-enthusiastically.
He turns and looks at me and I begin to panic. Not only do I have zero Spanish language skills other than ‘hola’ and various tapas-menu items, but he’s also devilishly handsome. Thoughts of the sexy Spaniard and the little black number that Lucy gave me float around my mind.
He walks towards me and I can feel my heart racing. I pat at my frizzy hair, wishing for the millionth time today that I was more like one of those immaculately groomed travellers.
I didn’t think it was possible to feel any sweatier but now I can actually feel beads forming on my forehead. What am I going to say to him? Damn them for making me learn German at school.
‘Patatas bravas,’ I blurt out as he reaches me.
I close my eyes for a second in embarrassment. I open my eyes again, hoping that I’ve managed to hide myself in a giant hole, but he’s looking at me and smiling.
‘I mean, lost,’ I say, enunciating each word slowly, in case he can understand me. I hold out my written instructions from Hazel and I point to the address, hoping he’ll get the general idea.
‘Oh, seventy-six. Yeah, it’s a tricky one,’ says the man, with a very English accent. ‘Do you see that little alleyway there? There are some stairs and when you get to the top of them, seventy-six is up there.’
‘Thanks,’ I mumble, feeling like a massive arsehole.
‘You know, if you fancy some good patatas bravas, you can always come and see me,’ he says with a wink.
Oh dear lord. My cheeks are starting to burn. Have I accidentally stumbled upon a code word here in Spain? Is my favourite potato-based dish actually something naughty?
‘Um, well . . .’ I stutter, not knowing what to say.
‘How about tonight?’ he says. ‘I’ll have a glass of rioja ready and waiting. It looks like you’ve had a tough day. Seven o’clock? Los Toros? It’s a little tapas restaurant on the edge of the complex as you go into town.’
I nod. I passed it on the way up. It looked cute. He looks cute. We’d look cute in there together. Totally postable on Instagram with #LivingOurBestLives.
‘Sounds great,’ I say flashing him a smile and stepping back gently in case my deodorant hasn’t lived up to its twenty-four-hour protection promise. At least with a dinner date at 7 p.m., I’ve got time for a shower first.
‘Perfect. Let me grab your case for you. It looks heavy.’
‘Oh no,’ I say waving my hand. ‘I’ve got this. I’ll see you later on. Oh, my name’s Lydia by the way.’
‘Steve,’ he says, giving me a wave as he saunters off and I try not to check out his bum. He might not be a sexy Spaniard, but he’s sexy so Lucy will be pleased with me.
I follow his directions and heave my giant suitcase up the stairs, wondering why I pretended that I didn’t need him to carry it when quite clearly I did. I’m relieved when finally I see the little blue-and-white china tile stuck on the door with the number 76 on it. It might not have been quite the easy journey Hazel made it sound from her email, and the walk wasn’t really a quick stroll, but I’ve finally made it.
I turn the key and push open the wooden door. I can’t help but feel excited as I cross the threshold. The apartment is beautiful with its white stone walls and patterned tiled floor. The sun’s streaming through the window over the top of the door and the overall feel is light and airy.
I breeze through the living room, glancing at the giant bookshelf crammed with paperbacks with a rainbow of different-coloured spines. There’s no TV, but for once I’m not disappointed. I’ll just have to keep the box sets until I get home and curl up with a book instead.
I peer in at the bathroom where there’s a shower/bath combo, toilet and bidet, and at the bedroom, which has a large double bed with a white duvet covered with a brightly coloured crochet throw. I walk back through the lounge and as I push open the wooden door at the end of the room it reveals a small kitchen in dark wood with a tiny table wedged in the corner.
It’s a lovely, small apartment – just the right size for me – but I can’t help but feel a teeny tiny bit disappointed that there’s no outside space. I try and remind myself that I should count myself lucky that I’ve got free accommodation, and the communal gardens, from what I’ve seen of them, looked lovely.
I take a deep breath as I look around the kitchen again. I’ve been concentrating so much on the journey that it hadn’t hit me until then that I’m here; I’m actually here. What do I do now?
The silence of the apartment starts to deafen me and I feel a wobble coming on, but then I remember my date with Steve. I could start getting ready. I glance at my watch and sigh – it’s only 4 p.m. I know it takes me longer to get ready now that my skin isn’t quite so youthful and I have ever-increasing black circles under my eyes, but even taking that into consideration, starting this early is taking the piss.
I look around the kitchen and spot a kettle. Tea! Alway
s a saviour. I flick the kettle on and whilst it boils I head back into the lounge and unzip my case to find my teabags and I see Lucy’s present to me. I hold it up to the light and whilst the top might be somewhat supportive, the rest is totally see-through. I go to put it back in the case, but then stop myself. Perhaps this is where I’ve been going wrong all these years. If I’m really going to embrace change, then I need to put myself out of my comfort zone every now and then. Uncomfortable, yet more importantly, sexy underwear, here I come.
The kettle finishes boiling and I make myself a cup of black tea before scanning the lounge. My eyes fall on the giant bookshelf. I go over to try and decide what I should read first. Of course I brought books with me, but there’s nothing more exciting than choosing a new book. I glance at the pink-and-pastel-coloured spines, wondering if I’m in the mood for romance. There are a few thrillers that I’ve heard are good, but I’m not sure that reading one when all alone in a foreign country is a very good idea. I’m a bit of a wimp at the best of times, so I should probably pick something a bit less scary.
I settle in the end for Wolf Hall. It’s not a book I’d usually read, but this isn’t my usual type of holiday either – and it gets me out of my comfort zone again. Maybe this is the holiday where I discover I want to be more intellectual. Maybe I’m about to reassess my whole life. I slip the hardback out of the bookcase, but I’m not prepared for the weight of it. Blimey, I’ll be getting a brain and an arm work out as I read this.
I sit myself down in a comfy armchair and sip the tea before I open the book. I read the first few words and my eyes start to do that thing where they close and then spring back open. It has been a really long day; perhaps I should take a little nap? I wouldn’t want to fall asleep in my gazpacho over dinner later. I drain my tea and pop the cup back down on the side before I close my eyes. I’ll have a quick power nap before I spruce myself up for the date. I may have only been on this holiday for a few hours, but it’s already going surprisingly well.
Chapter Six
Greetings from Singapore! It’s so clean here and so ordered. It’s so much less crazy than Japan, but still beautiful and amazing. It’s technically closer to you so less of an excuse not to visit. I’m trying to tempt you with a fridge magnet – it’s supposed to be of the famous Merlion (half mermaid half lion) and no, it’s not projectile vomiting – unfortunate use of colour.
