A Proper Family Holiday (25 page)

‘We worked so hard!’ he said.

‘We did,’ Chelsea agreed.

‘It’s not fair! We had the best castle. We would have won.’

Worse was still to come.

Lily and her father won the sandcastle competition for their traditional medieval extravaganza complete with crenellations and — a working drawbridge. Adam had somehow rigged a piece of driftwood with a broken shoelace so that it could be lifted up and down. The judges clapped their congratulations and Lily grabbed the bag of sweets they offered as a prize.

‘She doesn’t deserve those sweets,’ said Jack, with unexpected venom. ‘She didn’t help build that sandcastle at all. I was watching her. She didn’t do a single thing. Her dad made all of it.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Jack,’ Chelsea assured him. ‘I’ll buy you a packet of sweets in the bar.’

‘It won’t be the same. We should have won them. If I hadn’t fallen over, we would have won.’

Chelsea shared her nephew’s disappointment, but there was nothing she could do. She hadn’t even had the foresight to take photographs during the building process. No one would ever know how brilliant the castle had been. And it had been brilliant.

Chelsea and Jack could not avoid passing Lily and Adam on their way back into the hotel. Chelsea did not even look at Adam. Lily made a show of shoving three sweets at once into her mouth. She might as well have made the ‘loser’ sign as far as poor Jack was concerned. Adam offered his commiserations. Chelsea pretended not to hear them.

‘Next year,’ she said to Jack, ‘we’ll build the Coliseum.’

‘The Closs-eum is rubbish,’ said Jack.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Sophie

Sophie had decided that Playa Brava was well lame. Her parents had granted her permission to explore the town by herself during daylight hours and she had taken advantage of that permission to spend as much time apart from them as possible, but really there were only so many hours you could spend in a gift shop, trying on sunglasses you couldn’t afford to buy on your puny allowance. Why did her mum and dad have to be so badly affected by the credit crunch? Sophie’s sense of injustice was made even worse by the regular updates from Skyler, who was on holiday with her dad and his new girlfriend in the South of France. Skyler’s dad worked for a big insurance company. While Sophie was wandering aimlessly around shops that sold Chelsea FC tea towels and all manner of tat stamped with a misspelt ‘Lanzarotte’, Skyler claimed she was strolling around the boutiques of Cannes, trying on and, later, actually
buying
a dress by D&G.

When Sophie relayed this information to her mother by the poolside, Ronnie snorted that Skyler’s dad was trying to buy her love because he didn’t see her from month to month. Sophie should be grateful she had a father who actually spent time with her instead. Looking at her father snoring beneath that day’s copy of the
Sun
, Sophie could not see the benefit of having such a present dad.

She stayed by the pool for another half an hour, then excused herself to go for a walk again. This time she turned left instead of right as she exited the hotel. She didn’t hold out much hope for more excitement in this change of direction, and indeed she wasn’t surprised. This new direction offered another parade of gift shops purveying more of China’s finest Lanzarote-themed tat. But just as Sophie was texting Skyler to say, ‘My life is so shit,’ something happened to make Sophie think that maybe this holiday wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

‘Well,
hel
-lo, beautiful.’

A low whistle came from a darkened doorway that led to a currency-exchange booth. Sophie stopped, but she didn’t turn round. Not at first.

‘Yes, beautiful girl, I am talking to you. There are no other beautiful ladies around here.’

Sophie turned, with her best disdainful look already in place. She and Skyler were well practised in telling teenage boys where to get off, but this wasn’t a teenage boy.

‘Don’t frown,’ said the man in the doorway. ‘Your face is way too lovely to be spoilt with that kind of look.’

Sophie continued to pout. She’d been told she looked like Tulisa when she pouted.

The man stepped out of the darkness. Once in the light, he cut a more interesting figure than Sophie had hoped for. She had grown used to being catcalled by the waiters at the seafront restaurants, but they were easy enough to ignore. They were all old and short and only really interested in getting her to look at their menus. This man was different. For a start, he wasn’t that old. She estimated he was twenty-one at most. He also looked a bit like Robert Pattinson.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Sophie,’ she said.

‘Pretty name for a pretty lady.’

Sophie rolled her eyes.

‘I can’t help it,’ said the man. ‘It’s hard to find a compliment that is as individual as a girl like you deserves. My name is Luca.’

‘Do you chat up every girl who passes by?’ Sophie asked him.

‘Have you seen the state of most of the women who pass through this town?’ Luca replied. ‘I do not chat up everybody. Are you always so suspicious of someone who pays you a compliment?’

‘Depends.’ Sophie’s posture relaxed a little.

‘Where are you from?’

‘England. Coventry.’

‘I know it,’ said Luca. ‘I’m half English. My mother is from there. From London.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. She came out here on holiday in the 1980s, met my father and never went home.’

‘And you live here in Playa Brava?’

‘All my life. Running the family business.’ He indicated the currency exchange behind him. ‘Tell me, Sophie, how old are you?’

‘Eighteen,’ she said automatically. She and Skyler always said they were eighteen if anybody asked. They’d been served in a pub once. Sophie had been staying at Skyler’s dad’s place for the weekend. Ronnie and Mark were under the impression that Skyler’s father would be looking after them. Instead, Skyler’s father had filled the fridge with ready-meals and gone to spend the weekend with his girlfriend.

‘Eighteen, eh?’ Luca’s expression didn’t suggest he disbelieved her.

‘How old are you?’ she asked him.

‘How old do you think I am?’

‘Twenty-one?’ she suggested.

Luca laughed. ‘Close enough. I’m happy with that. Do you want a Coke?’

He beckoned her into the darkness.

‘Why not?’ Sophie asked. Why shouldn’t she accept a Coke from the best-looking bloke she’d seen since arriving on the island?

Sophie had two Cokes and a can of ready-mixed gin and tonic that made her eyes smart. Thankfully, Luca didn’t seem to notice how unused she was to the bitter taste of gin. He would certainly never have guessed that she’d never tasted any alcohol except cider or lager watered down with lemonade on very special occasions such as her family’s New Year’s Eve party. Sophie spent almost three hours with him in the darkness of the currency exchange that afternoon. He asked her about the things she liked. She told him about her favourite bands and about her ambition to become an actress. He listened carefully and asked all the right questions. He paid her even more compliments. That afternoon was definitely the best part of the holiday so far, but eventually, Sophie couldn’t ignore the texts on her phone any longer. Ronnie wanted to know where she’d got to.

‘I have to go,’ said Sophie to Luca. ‘I said I’d meet my … friends at half past five.’

Luca stood up and waved Sophie towards the door.

‘Well, I’ve had a most interesting afternoon. I hope I’ll see you again,’ said Luca.

‘You might,’ said Sophie, hoping she sounded cooler than she was feeling.

‘Can I have your number?’ Luca asked. ‘So I can text you?’

‘Sure.’ Sophie told him her number without hesitating.

‘Lovely Sophie from Coventry,’ Luca murmured. He picked up Sophie’s hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. ‘The most beautiful English woman I have ever seen in Playa Brava.’

Sophie’s face was still radiating heat when she found her mother and father by the poolside.

‘You’re late,’ said Ronnie.

‘Only two minutes,’ Sophie pointed out.

‘Did you find anything interesting?’ Mark asked.

‘No,’ said Sophie. ‘I just walked up and down the main street. There isn’t much to do here.’

She hoped her father wasn’t going to try to engage her on the subject. She was itching to text Skyler with developments, even though she was almost out of credit thanks to all her texting from abroad.

Skyler had sent another text already, outlining the rest of that day’s purchases: two new pairs of shoes and some real Chanel lipstick. Ordinarily, Sophie would have died with envy at the idea of such sophistication, but that afternoon, she had a secret that would blow Skyler’s shopping exploits out of the water when it came to glamour and that all-important maturity.

Someone asked me out, she wrote. He’s twenty-one.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ronnie

Fortunately for Sophie, Ronnie was too distracted to give her the third degree as to how she had really spent her afternoon. Mark had been receiving texts all day.

At one point, in response to a text, Mark had disappeared from the poolside without telling Ronnie where he was going. When he came back, he claimed he had been inside to answer a call of nature. Number two. Ronnie was unconvinced. Since when had Mark been shy about his bowel movements? Ordinarily, he’d have made an announcement
ahead
of going inside. He was up to something for sure.

When Mark got back from the loo, Ronnie told him that she was going inside for a lie-down and there was no need for him to join her.

It was while she was on her way back to the bedroom that Ronnie thought to look in on her parents and ask them what the plan was for that evening. Their bedroom door was slightly ajar. Ronnie went to knock on it, but hesitated for just long enough to catch the tail-end of a half-whispered conversation. She paused. Her mother’s voice sounded worried. Though nine-tenths of her knew she shouldn’t, Ronnie decided to listen in. One-tenth of her wanted to know what her mother was worried about. Maybe listening to this conversation would answer the questions raised by how strange her mother had seemed over the past few days.

‘I don’t think we can tell them,’ said Jacqui. ‘It doesn’t seem fair. Not while they’re all supposed to be enjoying themselves.’

‘Then don’t tell them here,’ said Dave. ‘We don’t have to.’

‘But when are we going to tell them?’ came Jacqui’s anguished response. ‘We’ve kept this to ourselves for long enough, Dave. There’s going to come a day pretty soon when it will be too late to let them know and too late for us to do anything about it or help them get through it.’

‘Don’t get yourself upset,’ said Dave.

‘How can I not get upset? We’ve gathered everyone around me for my sixtieth birthday and all I can think of is an empty space at the table where … I—’ Jacqui sobbed.

Ronnie immediately visualised a table without her mother at one end of it.

‘Oh, Dave, I don’t know what to do for the best. We haven’t got for ever. They should know as soon as possible. I want them to. They deserve to know, but —’

‘Not this week,’ Dave suggested. ‘When we get back to Coventry, eh? You can get Chelsea to come up one weekend in the next month or so and we’ll tell everyone then. We don’t have to let it spoil your birthday. Now, you need to try to enjoy yourself, love. You need this break as much as anyone. More, if anything. Much more.’

‘I know. I’m trying, but how can I enjoy myself with this hanging over my head?’

‘It’s hanging over my head too,’ said Dave.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I know.’

‘Come here and let me give you a cuddle.’

Ronnie heard her parents kiss.

‘I should go downstairs,’ said Jacqui. ‘I told Bill I’d find his glasses for him.’

Ronnie heard her mother coming towards the door. She straightened up and skipped off down the corridor just in time.

In the room she shared with Mark, Ronnie went over the conversation she had just overheard. As far as Ronnie was concerned, everything confirmed her worst fears. This family trip to Lanzarote was not just about celebrating her mum’s birthday. Jacqui had wanted to gather everyone around her because she had bad news to impart. That had to be the reason. And in Ronnie’s mind, the bad news had to be health-related. What else could it be? Dave and Jacqui were hardly about to announce they were getting divorced, were they? It must be a health thing, and from the way her mother seemed to be the more anguished of her two parents at the thought of sharing the news, Ronnie deduced that it must be her mother who was ill. She hadn’t seemed ill, but then neither had Linda, the woman who had lived next door to her parents back in Coventry, until she was diagnosed with breast cancer. Linda was dead within a year.

Ronnie sat down on the bed. She put together the conversation, this extravagant trip and the way her mother had been the past few days, and came to a horrible conclusion. Not only was her mother ill, she must have discovered there was nothing that could be done for her. She’d said they didn’t have for ever. Exactly how long did they have? Ronnie wanted to know at once. She wasn’t going to wait for her mother to tell her what was happening; she was going to have to ask.

The opportunity didn’t arise that evening, though. Ronnie couldn’t seem to get her mother alone for even a second, and Jacqui went to bed right after dinner, claiming that she thought she was still tired from the twenty-four-hour bug.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ronnie

Mark didn’t ask to stay down in the bar with the guys that evening. Instead, he said he was ready for bed as soon as Ronnie was. They walked upstairs together. Mark chanced a quick squeeze in the lift. Ronnie pushed him off.

‘You smell of garlic,’ she said.

Ronnie spent an age in the bathroom. It wasn’t that she needed to spend any extra time in there. Her aim, her hope, was to stay in the bathroom for long enough that Mark would be asleep by the time she came back out. She didn’t want to speak to him. Though he hadn’t gone to the bar after dinner, he had sunk three pints while eating his evening meal, and ordinarily that was enough to send him straight to the Land of Nod. He had sat down on the bed upon entering the room – there was nowhere else to sit – and Ronnie felt sure he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to stretch out, and as soon as he stretched out, he would be out like a light. That’s the way it always happened at home.