Escape to the French Riviera

Chapter Seven

Over a bottle of the cheapest fizz available in the bar at the casino, Carol quizzes me about Elias.

‘You looked like you were having a good conversation there.’

‘Not really.’

‘Well, you both looked pretty engrossed from where we were standing, didn’t they, Soraya?’

‘Yeah, you did look pretty captivated.’

‘He just said he was a skipper on a yacht, that’s all.’

‘He has a yacht?’ says Carol. Her eyes widen in excitement.

‘No, he sails a yacht for his boss. They’re off to Andalusia next, I think.’

‘Does he have room for us?’ says Carol.

‘I dunno. I didn’t ask him.’ I shrug my shoulders and remind Carol that we aren’t even allowed to talk about men on this trip.

‘Oh, you’re too slow for your own good. You’ve just found out that the Mystery Mancunian of Monaco is sailing around on a yacht, and you didn’t even ask him if he could show your friends around. Some friend you are.’

I roll my eyes at Carol.

‘Look, we’re here for a girls’ holiday.’

‘Yes, but us girls love yachts, don’t we, Soraya?’

‘Yeah, I do love a nice yacht.’

‘Right, I’m off to find him. I’m going to ask him,’ says Carol.

‘You can’t do that!’

People sat behind us turn to look at me as I seem to get everyone’s attention except Carol’s.

‘Look, there he is. He’s still here.’

I am horrified as Carol jumps up and heads off in Elias’s direction.

‘Oh my god. Soraya, do something to stop her.’

‘You know what Carol’s like when she’s on a mission, nobody can stop her.’

‘Oh, don’t I just know that.’

This is just like the time we were in school, and I confessed I had a crush on Shaun who sat next to me. I still can’t forgive her for passing him a note telling him I loved him. It wasn’t reciprocated, and I never dared look his way again. Forty years later, I still avoid him in the supermarket. Why does Carol always have to be so in your face?

Soraya laughs, but the only thing I am doing is scowling.

I watch in disbelief as Carol approaches Elias, then says something in his ear and walks back with him. She looks like the cat that got the cream.

The champagne has already tinged my cheeks pink, and they are fast becoming a glowing scarlet.

Carol never really cares what people think of her, and so she breaks my stunned silence.

‘Lucy was just telling us you’re a skipper on a yacht?’

‘I am, for my sins.’

‘Well, I was just saying, she could have asked if it’s possible to have a nosy. Did you know she’s an author? Maybe she could write something about the yacht in her book?’

I grimace at Carol.

‘I’m not an author. Not yet, anyway. I want to be one but…’

‘An author, hey? How very interesting. Of course. Anything for a fellow Brit. I suppose I’ll have to clear it with my boss first though.’

‘Oh, yes. We wouldn’t want to get you into any trouble.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine, but I’ll check. Lucy, shall I take your phone number so I can confirm? Would tomorrow morning be okay if I can work something out?’

‘That would be spiffing,’ says Soraya.

Spiffing? I mouth at her. Soraya shakes her head at me, looking as shocked as I am about the choice of vocabulary that has left her mouth.

‘Well then, it’s a date… I mean… It’s a…yeah. Anyway, Lucy, if you would be so kind as to give me your number, I’ll message you in the morning and confirm.’

‘It’s O797…’ says Carol before I can even respond.

‘Perfect. I’ve got your number stored safely. I’m calling it a night now. Enjoy yourselves. Have a good evening, ladies.’

‘Have a good evening, ladies,’ repeats Carol in his accent as soon as he is out of earshot.

‘You don’t meet many guys with manners like that, do you?’

‘No, fair play to him,’ says Soraya.

The bottle of champagne is almost empty, and despite our win, we don’t have that much money to splash on drinks. I suggest to Carol and Soraya that we go back to the apartment for a nightcap. Thankfully, we managed to pick up some bits from the supermarket on the way back from lunch, and there is a rather lovely-looking French wine waiting for us in the fridge that would make a suitable nightcap.

Back at the apartment and sitting outside on the balcony, we look down at the yachts below.

‘What sort of boat do you think Elias drives?’ says Carol.

‘It’s not a Porsche. I don’t think you drive a boat, Carol,’ says Soraya.

‘I think she means sails,’ I say.

‘Yeah, whatever. But what sort of size do you think it is?’

‘Well, I suppose it’s got to be pretty big if you need to hire someone to sail it.’

‘I’d definitely say it’s a pretty big one,’ winks Carol.

‘I think it’s time for someone’s bed,’ I say.

‘Oh, I do hope he messages you first thing, though. It would be good if we could have a nosy straight after breakfast, wouldn’t it?’ says Soraya.

‘Let’s see what happens. Hey, I’ve just realised it’s midnight. Happy birthday, Soraya,’ I say.

Carol and I hand Soraya her birthday gifts.

Carol gives her a tiara which says ‘Fifty’ and comes in a pack with a pink sash, which Soraya happily puts on.

‘It suits you. I always said you were a bit of a princess,’ I tease her.

I take some photos of her on my phone and then Soraya opens the other gift from Carol. It is a bottle of Ana?s Ana?s perfume, which was Soraya’s favourite in her late teens.

‘Oh my god. I loved this. What a thoughtful gift,’ she says. Then Soraya tears open the packaging and sprays it all over herself as if it were a can of Impulse.

‘Oh, it reminds me of being in Barnums and when I met Andrew in the kebab shop. Oh – and the three of us falling out of that pub down the Mumbles. It also reminds me of my lovely mam too. She used to have a bottle on her dressing table, and I was always nicking it.’ Soraya laughs.

We all remember going to Soraya’s mother’s house. She was glamorous, just like Soraya. She always had her nails painted and her long dark hair neatly pinned up.

‘Wow, so many memories this brings back. This is incredible, Carol. It’s like memories in a bottle. Thank you.’

Amid the cloud of Ana?s Ana?s that still lingers pleasantly in the air, I give her my gift and hope Soraya likes it just as much as Carol’s.

‘Sorry, but what do you get the woman who has everything?’ I apologise in advance in case Soraya is disappointed as I hand over an album full of photos of the three of us, spanning our primary school years until now.

‘Ooh, what is it?’

I feel nervous as I wait for her reaction as she tears at the wrapping paper. Fortunately, her face lights up as she opens the album.

She strokes her hand over the gold embossing on the leather cover.

‘ To my best friend, Soraya ,’ she reads out loud. Then she flicks inside at the photos.

‘Wow. This is the best present ever. And the perfume, of course.’

‘Oh my god, is that us on the first day of secondary there? Look at my perm. Can’t believe my mam let me have a perm at the age of eleven. No wonder my hair’s like straw now,’ says Carol, looking over Soraya’s shoulder.

We all laugh as we huddle together, looking over the photos that bring back so many memories of all the things we have got up to together over the years. Luckily, I managed to find photos of our first holiday abroad when we went to Ibiza at seventeen; a photo of Soraya standing in front of her first car, which was a very rusty Ford Fiesta that was scrapped on its first MOT, and when Carol and I were bridesmaids at her and Andrew’s wedding. All the stages we have gone through together are in the album.

‘This is the most incredible gift imaginable. It’s making me emotional,’ says Soraya.

‘I’m so glad you like it.’

‘I absolutely adore it. I’ll treasure it forever.’

‘Aww, well, I’ve left a little space at the back so that we can get a photo from this trip too. I managed to get a nice one of us at the casino last night, but maybe we can get one on the yacht, if Elias calls.’

As much as I try to pretend that I couldn’t care less if he calls, I feel a wave of excitement at the thought.