A Gift to You (15 page)

‘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 organized 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 divan. 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 emanating from a frantic Melissa in the other bed.

‘
Getawayfromme! Getawayfromme!
’

Dazed, Sophie sat up trying to remember where she was. Melissa was shrieking like a madwoman, arms and legs flailing in the dark. The unmistakable
bzzzzz
of a mosquito gave a clue to
the cause of the drama. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Melissa, it’s a mosquito. Spray some stuff on yourself and go to sleep,’ she snarled, finding the light and snapping it on.

‘I think it’s a bat!’ wailed Melissa.

‘It’s
not
a bat. It’s a mosquito. Here.’ She sprayed mosquito repellent over the distraught Melissa, then over herself, and switched off the light.

‘You’ve got really grumpy, these days. You used to be much nicer,’ Melissa said in her little girl voice.

Spears of guilt prodded Sophie. She was being a bit of a bitch. Melissa had a fear of insects. ‘Sorry!’ she apologized. ‘PMT,’ she fibbed.

‘We’re going to have a good holiday, aren’t we?’ Melissa asked anxiously.

‘We’re going to have a
great
holiday. You’re going to get a MEGA tan and find a hunk for your photos, and The Skunk is going to be the sorriest idiot in the
world.’

‘Yes, he is an idiot? Isn’t he? But I’m not taking him back. Definitely not.’

‘No, you’re not. There’s a much nicer man waiting for you out there,’ Sophie said kindly.

‘Yes, there is. A millionaire, possibly,’ Melissa agreed. She always thought big. ‘There’s a marina around here somewhere, where the crème de la crème of
the Mediterranean park their yachts.’

‘Berth,’ Sophie corrected, sleepily.

‘What?’

‘Berth their yachts, not park,’ Sophie explained.

‘Oh! Right, I’d better remember that.’ She leaned on her elbow and stared over at Sophie. You know Majorca is still very “in”. Don’t forget Princess Di used
to come here years ago. The Spanish royal family comes here and Michael Douglas brought Catherine Zeta-Jones here. He has a huge villa in Deya, but I think it’s up for sale. I bet the ex,
Diandra, isn’t too happy about that. I’ve read about it in
Hello!.
Maybe we should go there for a day. We’ll hire a car.’ Melissa was always up to date on celebrity
gossip.

‘Fine,’ murmured Sophie, wishing Melissa would go back to sleep. ‘Imagine, if I met a millionaire, I might even invite Tony and Jayne to the wedding,’ she fantasized.
‘That would really rub their noses in it. Wouldn’t it, Soph?’

Silence.

‘Sophie?’

But Sophie was asleep. A deep and dreamless sleep.

She came to, to find sunlight dancing through the green shutters and Melissa standing on the patio, arms akimbo as she surveyed the scene in front of her.

‘We can’t possibly stay here, Sophie!’ she declared, aghast. ‘It’s in the sticks. We don’t even have a sea view, which I specifically asked for, and the
swimming pool – if you could
call
it a swimming pool – is no bigger than a
bath
!’

‘Beggars can’t be choosers, Mel, and, after all, it was a cancellation, we might not have got anywhere at such short notice.’ Sophie scrambled out of bed and went to join her
friend on the postage-stamp patio. The sun was shining. That was all that mattered!

She gazed around at the dry, barren scrubland that backed onto a scree-filled cliff, dotted with pine trees. They were perched on a small hill. Below, she could see other apartment blocks
nestled among trees and, in the distance, the glittering, silver blue sparkle of sunlight dancing on water.

‘There’s your sea view,’ she grinned, stretching and breathing in the warm scented Mediterranean breeze.

‘This is the pits! The pits!’ Melissa moaned. ‘And look at those kids jumping up and down in the pool. Horrible little beasties. Urrgh.’ Melissa was not at all the
maternal type.

‘Well, it did say suitable for families and it did say this was a quiet area in the brochure,’ Sophie pointed out reasonably.

‘I wonder, would they move us to Palma Nova if I kicked up a fuss?’ Melissa asked, hopefully.

‘Let’s give it a chance for a day or two, until we get our bearings. It’s only ten minutes by taxi to Palma Nova, anyway, the rep told us last night when you were
asleep.’

‘Oh, OK, then. But if it’s dead quiet, were moving and that’s it,’ Melissa declared, as she marched back into the bedroom. ‘Let’s go and see what they serve
for breakfast in that snack bar by the pool.’

‘Yes, let’s. I’m starving. And I’m dying for a cup of coffee. Let’s explore.’ Sophie didn’t care if the apartment wasn’t exactly the Ritz. She was
in Majorca, the sun was shining and the beach beckoned.

They breakfasted on fresh coffee, croissants, crusty white rolls and jam and fruit. Even Melissa had to admit that it was tasty. ‘Let’s go to the marina and see if we can nab a
millionaire,’ she suggested gaily. Her humour was improving by the minute.

Sophie heaved a mental sigh of relief. Maybe they
were
going to have a great holiday.

‘
This
is where we’re going to breakfast from now on,’ Melissa announced joyfully an hour later, as they strolled along the sea front. A
fifteen-minute walk from their apartment block had brought them to a completely different world.

‘
This
is where I was born to be.’ Melissa was giddy with excitement.

Yachts filled with beautiful people bobbed up and down on the gentle waves. The chic, designer boutiques oozed sophistication. There were no prices on display. It was that kind of place.

Melissa sashayed along in her tight white shorts and bikini top, black glass hiding her eyes, for all the world like a film star. Sophie in her denim shorts and black T-shirt felt lumpy and
frumpy beside her.

‘Let’s go to the beach. It’s getting hot. I’d like to go for a swim,’ she ventured.

‘Don’t be silly, Soph. We have to do some serious strutting here!’ Melissa smiled enticingly at a tanned, gigolo type in a cream Armani suit.

Gigolo smiled back.

‘See,’ Melissa whispered.

‘Mel, you can strut. I’m going to the beach over there and I’m flopping.’

Gigolo was ogling Melissa from head to toe.

‘See you on the beach. I’ll get a lounger for you,’ Sophie offered.

‘Fine,’ Melissa said snootily. ‘If you want to miss the chance of a lifetime to go and slob out on a lounger do it! I’m staying here.’

‘Have fun,’ Sophie said dryly, as Cream-Suited-Gigolo flashed a toothy grin at Melissa.

Melissa smiled saucily back.

Sophie left her to it.

The beach was a golden, curved crescent of paradise. Pine trees fringed the edge of the cliffs. White-crested wisps of waves lapped the shore.

Off the beaten track, it wasn’t crowded like the big resort beaches with their serried rows of white loungers. This beach was a little jewel dotted with coconut umbrellas and delightful
green loungers that could be hired for the day. A small island lay about a mile offshore. There were no motorboats or hang-gliders or pedalos in sight. It was a most peaceful place. Sophie choose
two loungers, lay her towel on one, stripped to her black M&S bikini, lay down, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She was in heaven. It was too relaxing even to read. A balmy little breeze
whispered around her; the sea murmured its soothing, rhythmic lullaby. Sophie fell asleep.

Melissa joined her several hours later. She was on a high.

‘Remember that guy?’ she asked excitedly. ‘He asked me if I would like coffee. His name is Paulo and he’s
absolutely
loaded! He’s staying on a yacht with
friends; they’re cruising around the islands for a month. Imagine! He asked me out to dinner tonight. What will I wear, Sophie? It will have to be something ultra sophisticated. Do you think
the little black silk D&G dress I bought would be OK?’

‘It will be fine.’ Sophie tried to sound enthusiastic. Melissa hadn’t wasted any time. It looked like Sophie would be dining alone tonight. Her heart sank. Just as well she had
plenty of books to read.

‘I’d better get some serious sunbathing done before tonight.’ Melissa unhooked her bikini top and slathered on some Hawaiian Tropic. ‘Sophie, it’s great that we
came to this place. I’d never have met anybody like Paulo in Palma Nova. That marina is ultra posh.’ She gave a positively beatific smile as she slid elegantly onto her lounger,
stretched out and closed her eyes.

Sophie tried not to feel envious as she surveyed her friend. Melissa had everything: looks, fabulous figure, bubbly personality. No wonder she was never manless for long. A deep sigh came from
the depths of her as she looked at her own tummy, which was not flat and taut like Melissa’s, but curved and rounded with a little soft, jelly sort of bulge, no matter how tight she held her
muscles in. Her thighs were dimpled at the top, unlike Melissa’s firm, toned, satiny-skinned ones. And there was no denying that she had thick ankles, Sophie thought glumly, as she surveyed
Melissa’s shapely turned ankles and perfectly pedicured feet.

She felt disgruntled . . . and hungry.

‘Will we have some lunch?’ she asked.

‘Oh, God, no! I couldn’t eat a thing, I’m so excited.’ Melissa yawned. ‘Besides, Paulo bought me a gorgeous cake with the coffee, earlier.’

‘Well, I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast. I’ll just go and get something myself.’ Sophie pulled on her shorts and T-shirt, grabbed her bag and flounced off.

‘Enjoy it,’ Melissa called airily after her. She hadn’t even noticed that Sophie was annoyed.
Bitch!
thought Sophie, simmering with resentment. Denise was right,
Melissa was so self-centred she thought the world revolved around her. Barely their first day on holidays and Sophie had to eat alone. She climbed, the curving wooden steps up the side of the cliff
and tried not to pant. She was so unfit it was a disaster. Still, there was nothing she could do about it now. She might as well treat herself to something tasty for lunch, she decided. Food was
always a great comforter. Besides, it would be quite nice to sit at a shaded table outside the cliff-top restaurant and tuck into deep-fried squid in batter, with a crispy, crunchy side salad, and
sip ice-cold San Miguel beer.

It was her fifth day alone. She might as well have come on a singles holiday after all, Sophie reflected, as she lay on the lounger in her favourite spot on the beach. Melissa
had spent two days with Paulo after the first momentous dinner-date.

‘You don’t mind, lovie? He’s such a pet. You should hear the gorgeous things he says to me and he’s
such
a gentleman. He’s really smitten, Soph,’
Melissa twittered, as she changed into yet another outfit for a shopping trip to Palma. That night she arrived back at the apartment, eyes aglow.

‘You’ll never guess, Soph? Paulo has asked me to go to Ibiza on the yacht. I’m
so
excited.’

‘How long are you going for?’ Sophie demanded. She was furious.

‘Don’t be like that, Soph,’ Melissa muttered defensively. ‘This is the chance of a lifetime. Paulo is just what I need after The Rat.’

‘Look, Melissa, you asked me to come on holiday with you. So far, we’ve had one breakfast together and I’ve been left to my own devices ever since. You’re being really
selfish and I don’t think much of your behaviour!’ Sophie exploded.

‘No,
you’re
being selfish!’ Melissa rounded on her. ‘This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and if you were truly my friend you
wouldn’t be so mean.’ She took her case from the wardrobe and began to pack. Sophie felt like thumping her. How typical of Melissa to turn the argument to her advantage.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night. The following morning, Sophie kept her head under the pillow until she heard Melissa leave the apartment, dragging her case behind her.

So much for the gentleman; he didn’t even come to collect the cow, she thought grumpily, as she heard the click-clack of Melissa’s white high heels fade away.

Surprisingly, once her anger and resentment had abated somewhat, Sophie had actually enjoyed herself. She spent her days on the beach, reading, swimming and watching the incredibly confident,
effortlessly stylish young Spaniards who congregated after school. It was an entertainment in itself. At night, she took a taxi to Palma Nova, ate at one of the beach-side restaurants and then
browsed around the myriad of shops, before going home to sit on her terrace with her book and an ice-cold Malibu. The days melted into one another and Sophie realized that being on holiday alone
was not half as daunting as she’d imagined. It was a liberation of sorts to know that she was perfectly capable of enjoying herself alone.

She was soaking up the late-afternoon rays, immersed in her historical novel, when a child’s piercing scream rent the air. Sophie looked up to see a little Spanish girl of about four
howling in pain as her elderly grandfather tried to comfort her. She had seen them come to the beach every afternoon and thought they were so sweet. The grandfather doted on the little girl and
made magnificent sandcastles to entertain her. Sophie jumped up and hurried over. ‘Can I help?’ she asked. ‘I’m a nurse.’

‘Oh, thank you very much. Maria has been stung.’ The man spoke perfect English.

Sophie soothed the little girl. ‘Could you get me some vinegar from the restaurant and I’ll remove the sting and put some cream on it.’ She turned to the grandfather. The man
spoke in rapid Spanish to a young student nearby, who raced off up the steps towards the restaurant.

Sophie kept talking in calm, soothing tones to the little girl who has stopped screaming but whimpered pitifully.