Chapter 32
The next day, I catch a glimpse of my pale, unexfoliated thighs while stepping out of the shower and make a snap decision to go for a spray tan before I leave for our Spanish mini-break tomorrow.
This is not a regular occurrence. Contrary to what I once imagined my life would be like, I’m not the type of woman who is permanently mani-ed and pedi-ed and most of my self-care choices are limited to whatever is on offer at Boots.
The last St Tropez I had was for my cousin’s wedding a decade ago and it was an unedifying affair, which involved standing in a booth in paper knickers, battling hypothermia as my breasts were hosed down with a freezing brown liquid by a total stranger.
But the resulting glow was unquestionably a confidence boost and, given that our continental mini-break represents the first ritual baring of flesh this year, it feels like the minimum requirement.
As I head past the botanical gardens towards the shops, messages on the WhatsApp group set up for this trip start to ping.
I’ve only just joined it and am partly glad given the sheer volume there has been in the last twenty-four hours.
I open it up and see that the chat has moved on from discussing check-in times and airport pick-ups to whether anyone is taking straighteners and if it’s feasible to share conditioner.
Jeff jumps in to respond. ‘Sadly, nobody in the men’s apartment has enough hair to merit either, except possibly Sam.’
My feet stop dead in the street. I read the message again twice. I call my brother immediately.
‘I . . . oh God, give me a moment. I need to sit down.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘I forgot to bring my foot pump to the PTA talent show. I’ve got forty-two balloons left to blow up and I’m already feeling lightheaded.’
‘Since when was Sam Delaney coming to La Manga?’
I ask.
He coughs. ‘Barry dropped out after breaking his wrist. Sam’s taken his place.’
‘But . . . how?’
‘He fell off his moped.’
‘Not Barry. Sam.’
‘Why would you care? What would be the problem if nothing ever happened between the two of you?’
This was the story I told Jeff after that mix-up with the courts nearly two months ago and I’m sticking to it. If he thought for a moment Sam and I had history, however brief, I’d never hear the end of it.
‘I don’t care as such,’ I say, feeling flustered. ‘I just think it’s a great shame Barry can’t go.’
‘You’ve never even met Barry.’
‘Yes I have! He was my partner for weeks at Rusty Racquets. We became quite close, if you must know.’
‘That was Gary,’ he says, to which I tell him I’ve arrived at the beauty salon and need to go.
After leaving Jeff to his balloons, I push open the door to find Rose on a chair in reception, flicking through a copy of Good Housekeeping.
She looks up and laughs. ‘Let me guess – spray tan?’
‘You too?’
‘Oh yes. Nora’s just left and Lisa’s in there now. It’s like a production line. We should have asked for a group discount.’
A door opens and Lisa steps out. She is the colour of a mahogany sideboard. Rose’s eyes widen.
‘She swears this will wash off,’ Lisa says ominously, as her phone pings and she looks at it. ‘Oh God, this has literally not stopped. After all the things I’ve had to organise at home and in the office for this holiday, I might just collapse for three days when I finally get there.’
I can sympathise on the work front. After our terrible market research meeting, half of my colleagues have gone into a tailspin, desperate to prove how incredibly competent they are.
As a result, my inbox has literally never been so full.
But as I sit waiting for my turn, that’s not the only thing playing on my mind.
Now, it seems I have the added complication of having to go on a weekend break with the one person I have been determined to stay away from.
I try to look on the bright side. It’s not like I can avoid Sam altogether.
And I’ve made it clear that what happened was a mistake, never to be repeated.
While spending several days in the same resort is not something I’d choose to do, it might at least underline that I’m capable of being civilised.
Friendly, even. And keeping my distance should be at least possible when there are eight other people there and the men are in a different apartment altogether.
This is not going to be a problem. It is not going to ruin my holiday. I absolutely refuse to let it.