My Fake Wedding(120)

‘Ooooh,’ he yells suddenly, rushing to the balcony. ‘David, look. There in the leopard-print thong. Out in the rain and all. Pass the bollockspotters.’

David hands George their communal binoculars so he can ogle a piece of prime male meat as it struts towards the pool bar.

‘Nice bod.’ George hands them back.

‘Looks a bit German to me,’ Janice declares.

‘You sure?’ I pick up the binoculars myself. ‘How many loungers has he bagged?’

We all burst into gales of giggles then rush to pack our stuff before Sam changes his mind about the nice hotel. None of us wants to stay here another minute. The poolside bingo is about to start and that might just send George over the edge. When we’re ready, we go to find Dee. She’s sitting in a corner of the dingy bar, a pint of lager in front of her.

‘Drinking on the job?’ I ask her. I feel a bit sorry for her. We’re escaping. Imagine actually having to live here.

It doesn’t bear thinking about.

‘We’re leaving,’ I say, trying to be as polite as I can.

Dee shrugs, glancing around the bar area at the other tourists, with their screaming brats, their Superkings and their white raffia wedge heels. She doesn’t blame us, she says. She’s out of here once her contract’s up. She’s only doing maternity leave. The girl who covered this patch before her got knocked up by one of the locals six months ago and has gone home to give birth in a proper hospital.

“Ere mind, it was even worse where I was before. I was in Zákinthos, see,’ she explains. ‘You couldn’t get pwoper English food for love nor money out there. It was all tawamasalata and that Gweek shit. Here, at least you don’t have to go near a paella if you don’t want to. And they do a lovely omelette and chips in the hotel down the road. And the local lads don’t expect to kick the back door in every time you have sex with them.’

‘She means take it up the arse.’ George, coming up behind me with our bags, just catches the end of what she’s saying. ‘Up the stout and bitt—’

‘Yes, thank you, George, I know what she means,’ I say quickly. ‘I don’t think that’s going to apply to me actually,’ I tell Dee. ‘I’ve seen some of the locals and I don’t think I’ll be taking it in either orifice from any of them. But thanks for the advice.’

We get two taxis to the hotel. George and David go with Sam, and Janice and I follow with all the bags. Janice pats my knee affectionately.

‘You OK?’ I ask her.

‘Mmmm. Tired,’ she says. Then, ‘Katie, why don’t you just tell him?’

‘Tell who?’

‘Sam, you ninny. Tell him how you feel before it’s too late.’

‘I don’t feel anything,’ I lie.

‘Bollocks,’ she says. ‘I’ve seen the way you look at him.’

‘I can’t,’ I stutter. ‘What if he doesn’t feel the same?’

‘Don’t be daft.’ She hugs me. I’m shaking. ‘I’ve also seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one else is looking. Has done for ages. And he’s paying for this nice hotel, isn’t he? You surely don’t think that’s for my benefit, do you? Or George’s? Or David’s?’

I shrug. ‘Dunno.’

‘You do love him though, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I say in a small voice that surprises even me. ‘I suppose I do.’

‘Then tell him.’ She shakes my shoulders firmly. ‘Before it’s too late. Oh, and Katie.’

‘What?’ ‘He’s got a dick like a novelty draught-excluder, by all accounts.’

‘How do you know?’

‘That Paella told me that night we all got pissed on Pernod. Says he’s hung like a bloody horse.’

At that we burst out giggling. Two minutes later, we pull up outside the hotel and I take a sharp breath.

It’s gorgeous. It’s even got a garden. The first green I’ve seen since we came out here. Except for the colour of Sam’s face as we flew out. I guess the beautiful lawn is probably due to sprinklers and huge water wastage but who cares. It’s so pretty.

Inside, it’s just the same. Every room has its own bathroom, each the size of a small gymnasium and filled with piles of fluffy white towels and huge bottles of expensive bath oils and lotions and potions. George and David share one room, while Janice has her own. Again. Sam looks at me.

‘I thought we could share again. If that’s OK with you.’

‘Sure.’ I shrug. ‘It’ll save money, won’t it? Ow,’ I yelp, as Janice kicks my ankle.