Fair-Weather Friend (2 page)

A fortnight in the sun would be nice, Sophie thought dreamily. Lazing on a lounger with a big, fat blockbuster novel and an ice-cold beer or a glass of
chilled wine. Melissa could strut her perfectly toned and sculptured stuff. Sophie would be quite content to lie on her lounger, her flabby bits not being at all suitable for strutting.

Two weeks later they were sitting in a bar at the airport. They were waiting to board a TransAer flight to Majorca. They had been delayed for three hours. Melissa was fit to be tied.

‘This is bloody daft. The plane hasn't even left Palma yet. We're going to be here for
hours
! That's a whole day wasted. It will be the middle of the night before we get to … Portal … Portal … wherever that place we're going to is.'

‘Portal Nous,' Sophie murmured.

‘I hope it's going to be a bit lively. It's three miles from Palma Nova. It was all I could get at such short notice,' Melissa fretted.

‘It will be fine, Melissa, stop panicking,' Sophie said, trying not to loose her cool. ‘Now let's have coffee and a sandwich. I'm a bit peckish.'

Her nerves were frayed. Melissa had whined and moaned non-stop about their delayed flight. Then she'd started on about the awful betrayal she had suffered at the hands of The Rat. It was doing Sophie's head in.

‘Oh no, not coffee! Let's go and get pissed.' Melissa flung back her golden hair and stood up from the hard chair she'd been sitting on. She was quite aware that every male eye in the lounge was upon her. She swanned towards the bar in her skin-tight white jeans and tightly fitting black halter-neck.

Sophie's heart sank. If Melissa went on the sauce she was in for a hard time. Melissa, unfortunately, could not drink. She always needed looking after when she was the worse for wear. Many were the times Sophie had hauled Melissa into loos or shoved her head out of taxi windows as she threw up all round her. If she started drinking with hours to go before their flight it would be a disaster.

‘Now Melissa go easy. You've already had three tequila slammers,' she warned.

‘Oh stop it, Sophie. You're not my mother!' Melissa snapped as she ordered another drink. ‘Do you want one?' she asked crossly.

‘OK, I'll have a Bud,' Sophie agreed. It might shut Melissa up for a while. She'd be happy enough to sit in the boarding area and read one of the six
books she had brought with her. She couldn't decide which to start with. The second
Bridget Jones
or the latest John Grisham thriller. She was so looking forward to getting into them. Sophie liked reading. She liked being taken into another world. She liked getting away from her own boring life for a while. Melissa thought reading was a waste of time.

Three hours later, Melissa was well and truly plastered. She had puked twice. Now she was draped across a tall, dark, arty type who was waiting on a flight to Greece.

‘We should change our flight and go to Greece …' she slurred gaily.

‘Off you go,' muttered Sophie. She was very pissed off.

Two hours after that they finally boarded their flight. Melissa promptly fell asleep. She snored loudly for the
duration, her head resting on Sophie's shoulder. Sophie couldn't believe her luck. She pulled
Bridget Jones
out of her travel bag and laughed her way across France and Spain. Beside her Melissa's musical snores drowned out the roar of the jet engines.

Unfortunately, a bumpy descent into Palma airport disturbed both Melissa and her stomach. For the third time that day, Sophie resisted the urge to drown her in a toilet bowl.

It took another hour to collect their luggage. Then they had to find the coach that was to bring them to their apartment. Sophie found it hard to keep her eyes open as the air-conditioned coach finally sped along the motorway towards their destination. She half-listened to the rep as she reminded her clients to use lots of sun factor protection. Grinning, the
rep also warned them not to drink too much San Miguel.

Melissa was green-faced. She groaned at the thought of beer. She promised herself she was never going to drink again. Once again she fell asleep. Her snores rippled around the bus. Sophie tried to pretend that she didn't know her. She stared out into the darkness and was sorry she had come.

By the time the coach pulled into the small two-storey apartment block, Sophie was wrecked. It didn't look ultra-modern she noted as they stopped outside a tatty-looking building. It had white, flaking paint and two pots of dried-out, wilting flowers at the entrance. The tiles were cracked and grubby.

She was too tired to care as a sullen receptionist took their passports and handed her the key to room 103. They were the only passengers to get off the
coach so at least the check-in was quick. Sophie yawned wearily as they click-clacked their way down a brown tiled floor, dragging their luggage behind them.

‘It's a bit kippy,' Melissa moaned as Sophie struggled to get the big black key to turn in the lock.

Basic was how Sophie would have described it. She switched on the light to see a white-painted room, furnished with a shabby sofa and two chairs with cigarette burns on the arms. A pine table and four chairs stood opposite the French doors. A small kitchen had a two-ring cooker, sink and noisy fridge.

The bedroom had a built-in wardrobe whose doors didn't close properly. There were two beds, each with a small bedside locker. The bathroom, decorated in mustard-coloured tiles, was not a place she'd
spend too long in, she decided. It was three in the morning. She was exhausted. Melissa's shrieks of dismay were the last thing she needed.

‘Let's go to bed. You chose the apartment, Melissa. It's not my fault. I've had a long day. I don't want to hear any more about it. I've had enough, so zip it,' she exploded as she pulled off her T-shirt and jeans and dived into the nearest bed.

‘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 organised 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 bed. 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 coming from a frantic Melissa in the other bed.

‘Get away from me! Get away from me!'

Dazed, Sophie sat up trying to remember where she was. Melissa was yelling like a madwoman. Her arms and legs were flailing in the dark. The unmistakable
buzzzzz
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 raged, 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 tormented Melissa. She sprayed herself just in case 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 apologised. ‘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 Rat is going to be the sorriest rat in the world.' Sophie was doing her best to be kind.

‘Yes. He is a rat, isn't he? But I'm not taking him back. Definitely not.'

‘No you're not. He's not worthy of you. 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 jet set of the Mediterranean park their yachts.'

‘Berth,' Sophie corrected, sleepily.

‘What?'

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

‘Oh! Right, I better remember that.' She leaned on her elbow and stared over at Sophie. ‘You know Majorca is very “in”. Don't forget Princess Di used to come here. The Spanish royal family come here and Michael Douglas brought Catherine Zeta-Jones here. He has a big villa in Deya. I've read about it in
Hello!
Maybe we should go there for a day. We'll hire a car.'

‘Fine,' murmured Sophie, wishing Melissa would go back asleep.

‘Imagine if I met a millionaire! I
might even invite Tony and Jane to the wedding,' Melissa decided. ‘That would really rub their noses in it. Wouldn't it, Sophie?'

Silence.

‘Sophie?'

But Sophie was far away – in a deep and dreamless sleep.

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

‘We can't possibly stay here, Sophie!' she declared, shocked. ‘It's in the sticks. We don't even have a sea view. I definitely asked for a sea view. I was told I'd get one. The swimming-pool, if you could
call
it a swimming-pool, is no bigger than a
bath
!'

‘Beggars can't be choosers, Melissa. 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 sized patio. The sun was shining. That was all that mattered in her opinion.

She gazed around at the dry, barren scrubland that backed onto a scree-filled cliff. A few pine trees grew here and there in little clumps. Their building was perched on a small hill. Below she could see other apartment blocks nestled among trees. In the distance was the glittering, silver-blue sparkle of sunlight dancing on water.

‘There's your sea view,' she grinned, pointing. She stretched and breathed 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.'

‘How do you know?' Melissa asked sulkily.

‘The rep told us last night when you were asleep.'

‘Oh, OK then. But if it's dead quiet we're 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 after all.

‘This
is where we're going to breakfast from now on,' Melissa announced joyfully an hour later. They were strolling along the sea front, which had plenty of places to eat. 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 posh. There were no prices on display. It was that kind of place.

Melissa strode along in her tight white shorts and bikini top, black glasses hiding her eyes. She looked 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 said.

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

Gigolo smiled back.

‘See,' Melissa whispered.

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

Gigolo was leering at 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 Gigolo flashed a wide, toothy grin at Melissa.

Melissa smiled back and fluttered her eyelashes.

Sophie left her to it.

The beach was a golden crescent of paradise. Pines tree fringed the edge of the cliffs. White-crested whisps of waves lapped the shore. It was off the beaten track. It wasn't crowded like the big resort beaches with their 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 motor boats or
hang-gliders or pedalos in sight. It was a most peaceful place. Sophie chose two loungers. She laid 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.