Читать книгу The Birthday That Changed Everything: Perfect summer holiday reading! - Debbie Johnson, Debbie Johnson - Страница 15

Following that latest in a long line of humiliations, I retreated to the pool. I was getting used to the feeling now. So my daughter disowned me in public? No big deal. I’d been through worse in the last few weeks and the party wasn’t even over yet.

I probably had a divorce to look forward to, or Simon announcing he was becoming the father of Latvia’s first ever naturally conceived sextuplets. I could picture him now, earnestly discussing his amazing virility on Eastern Europe’s version of Richard and Judy. I was so punch drunk, I didn’t even react when Lucy delivered one of her southpaw specials.

Reverting to my usual coping mechanism, I’d taken a small plate of treats from the lunch buffet to console me. Turkish delight. Yum. That was definitely going to help me lose the extra few pounds I’d gained. Despite the self-loathing, I still couldn’t stop myself eating it. Food had been my only consolation since Simon left, and even though I could see the damage I was doing, I couldn’t stop it. It was as though the carefully contained misery needed to leak out somewhere.

Allie followed over a few minutes later, carrying another round of drinks and apologising for Miss McTavish and her verbal probing, which had continued throughout lunch. I was counting myself lucky the probing was only verbal.

She’d covered such scintillating topics as the places sand could get if you had sex on the beach; the merits of photographing your own vagina, and the shocking price of property in Edinburgh these days. I must admit I did have to raise an eyebrow at the cost of a two-bedroomed flat in the New Town.

‘Don’t be daft,’ I said to Allie, ‘she’s not your responsibility. I attract nutters wherever I go. She seems so out of place here, though.’

‘Yep, I know what you mean,’ Allie replied. ‘No kids, no apparent interest in water sports – not that I’d dare say that word around her; who knows what it might unleash? All we know is that she’s a writer, and says she finds being on holiday helpful for her research. Within minutes of meeting us, she’d found out that Mike’s had the snip, and asked him if it’s affected his orgasms. As if! He’s just thrilled to be getting any!’

‘And how did he react to that question?’ I replied.

‘With relish. That man never misses an opportunity to pretend he’s Sid James in a Carry On movie. Bizarrely, it’s one of the things I love most about him.’

We settled down into two sun loungers near the pool. A pool that Nurse Nancy could definitely not enter – my plastic might shrivel up. Allie saw my wistful expression and made a sympathetic clucking noise. She stood up with such purpose, I thought she might just say ‘Alakazam’ and a nice bikini would appear.

Instead, she waved over to a nearby sunbathing couple, motioning for them to join us. She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted to another pair on the far side of the pool, who dutifully came over.

Before long, a small coterie of strangers had been assembled around my lounger. They stood smiling down, casting so much communal shadow over me the sun was momentarily eclipsed.

I sat up as straight as I could, almost dropping the plate of Turkish delight on to the concrete. I was sure they came in peace, but the thought crossed my mind that they could also be a lynch party out to tar and feather me under the little-known Obscene Outfits (While Abroad) Act.

‘You see?’ said Allie, waggling her fingers at me in a ‘look, I told you so’ gesture. ‘She can’t wear this all day, can she?’

‘Oh my God no!’ shrieked one of the men, dropping dramatically to his knees by my side, reaching out to finger the PVC hem in distaste.

He was wearing a salmon-pink sarong that not even David Beckham could have carried off. His hair was a suspiciously even shade of black, and his nails were beautifully manicured. Plus, as he continued to bemoan the state of my ‘non-semble’, as he called it, he displayed about as much subtlety as an am-dram performance of Guys and Dolls. Big flaming queen, anyone?

An exceptionally tall older woman with long, wild, steel-grey hair stepped forward. She was grandly preceded by a very large pair of breasts attempting to escape from two scraps of leopard print masquerading as a bikini.

‘Rick! Give her some space, for goodness’ sake – and stop stroking that plastic, you don’t know where it’s been!’ she said. Charming.

I stood up and introduced myself, with a bright smile and as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

‘Nice to meet you, Sally,’ said the woman with the enormous knockers. ‘I’m Marcia, and this is my husband, Rick.’

Even from a foot away, she smelled so much like a brewery that she should have had a ‘highly flammable’ sticker on her forehead.

It took a second for what she’d said to register. I might have been rendered momentarily unconscious by the second-hand alcohol fumes partying along with my own.

Did she really say ‘husband’? Big pause for thought at that one – Rick was about as straight as Freddie Mercury, and only slightly less flamboyant. Marcia looked a bit older than him, and certainly plucked her eyebrows a lot less than he did, but she was all woman.

I wondered how a marriage like that could work, but ‘better than mine’ was the only answer I came up with.

‘Hi, I’m Jenny, lovely to meet you,’ said the other woman, a sporty-looking brunette in her late twenties, giving me a hearty handshake and a radiant smile. ‘And this is Ian,’ she added, gesturing to the buff-looking young man at her side. Ian was trying very hard not to stare at my now-sweaty cleavage, bless him. What a gent.

‘Between us, Sally, we’ll be able to find you some decent clothes to wear until your suitcase turns up,’ said Allie, ‘so just rest easy. Have another drink, chill out, and we’ll all go off to our rooms to dig something up for you.’

‘Yes, darling,’ said Rick, giving me an air-kiss on each cheek and rubbing my shoulders reassuringly, ‘don’t worry about a thing – I’ll have something perfect for you!’