Not quite shit enough, it seemed, to stop my best friend writhing up and down on him when I paid a visit with some medication and a batch of Sainsbury’s oven-ready lasagne. All I thought of as I let myself in was whether or not I could pass the pasta off as my own. Surely that would make me a much more considerate girlfriend, I’d thought to myself, quietly laying my keys on the window ledge, and tiptoeing up the stairs.
I think I heard the noises as I was about halfway up, but my naive brain translated his groans into coughs, and her panting into a shortness of breath. Maybe I ought to get him a glass of water, I remember thinking, as I hesitated on the top step, still unsuspecting. I sometimes pretend that I had gone back downstairs to get him a drink, and, by doing so, had alerted them to my presence. I imagine her being stuffed unceremoniously into his wardrobe whilst we embarked on a caper of Carry On proportions.
Maybe, then, I’d be blissfully ignorant to this day, about to go off with my fellow hens to celebrate my final moments of freedom before our impending marriage. Charlotte would have been my chief bridesmaid, and I’d be none the wiser.
She was still clinging onto me when Pippa yanked my hand and pulled me away.
‘Come on, we need to check in,’ she said.
I’d lost the ability to function, and stood there, dumbstruck.
‘Just keep smiling,’ Seb said. ‘I have no idea what the hell is going on.’
‘But her . . .’ I faltered. ‘How did this even happen?’
‘I really haven’t got a clue,’ he said. ‘It’s always been nine of us. Pippa says she just appeared out of nowhere.’
‘What do you want to do?’ she asked, ushering me towards the waiting clerk at the Monarch desk, whose thin lips were pressed together in impatience. I was vaguely aware of the Faro sign behind her, but nothing was sinking in. All I knew was that I wanted to get as far away from there as possible. Alone.
‘What are my choices?’ I asked sarcastically. ‘Right now, I can’t see that I have any.’
‘We can tell her to leave,’ said Pippa. ‘I don’t have a problem doing that, if that’s what you want.’
I couldn’t think straight.
I wanted to cry, but I’d be darned if I was going to give Charlotte the satisfaction. Her face was a smiling blur over Pippa’s shoulder.
‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ I said.
‘So, what do you want to do, Em?’
I looked around at all the excited faces, knowing that, for Trudy, Nina and Sam, my old workmates, this would be the only break they had all year. They’d paid good money for their flights and accommodation. It wasn’t fair of me to ruin it before we’d even got off the ground.
‘Do you want me to tell her?’ asked Pippa.
I stopped my brain from racing ahead and tried to remember who I’d told about Charlotte and Tom. Right now, it felt like they all knew, and were laughing about it whenever my back was turned. But once I thought about it rationally, I realized that it was only Mum, Seb and Pippa. I had felt ashamed and embarrassed at the time – I hadn’t shouted it from the rooftops. If I caused a scene now, everyone would find out, and it’d be the talk of not only the hen weekend, but the wedding as well.
‘Let her come,’ I said sharply. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
I’d spent so long imagining this moment, wondering what it would be like to bump into her again. What would happen? Would I launch myself at her and want to tear her hair out? Or would I ignore her? It turns out, it was neither. I just felt numb.
‘Where are we even going?’ I asked glumly.
‘Portugal!’ said Pippa, over-enthusiastically.
I could tell she was trying to buoy me, to keep my spirits up, but my mood was going to be hard to lift.
I tried to concentrate on what people were saying to me as we sat in the departure lounge, a couple of bottles of prosecco already drained. They were all so happy, so keen to make it special, even competing, it seemed, for my attention. I turned my head this way and that, smiling, offering over-exaggerated gestures. But it all felt false, as if I was trying too hard, for fear of the elephant in the room making itself known.
Carrier bags clinked as everybody went to get up as our flight was announced, our duty-free purchases bumping into each other. ‘I think we’ve got enough booze here to sink a battleship,’ said Pippa. ‘Cliff Richard needn’t be worried about us drinking his vineyard dry.’
‘Are we seeing Cliff Richard?’ piped up Mum.
‘No,’ I said. ‘He makes wine out there, doesn’t he?’
‘I can’t be drinking too much,’ said Tess, as we all started walking. ‘I’ve got a big presentation next week.’
We all groaned. ‘I see what you mean about her,’ Pippa said, laughing loudly as she slapped my back, her edges already blurred by alcohol.
‘What a surprise to see Charlotte,’ said Mum quietly, hanging back to catch me on my own. ‘Everything okay now?’
I smiled tightly.
‘I’m so pleased you sorted everything out. You should have told me.’
I didn’t know what to say. I was too dumbfounded to even begin to piece together what was going on here.
I managed to avoid Charlotte for the entire journey, side-stepping every time I sensed her sidling up to me. Pippa and Seb were my buffers, although the constant supply of in-flight drinks was doing nothing to help their judgement.
‘I promise I’ll be more reliable tomorrow,’ Seb slurred, as he gave up on the fight for my case as Charlotte eagerly made a grab for it on the conveyor belt.
I took it without saying a word. I couldn’t even look at her, because I knew that if I did, the vision of what she’d done would come back and hit me like a tonne of bricks.
I made sure I was the last one onto the minibus, so I didn’t run the risk of her sitting next to me. I couldn’t go on avoiding her like this for four days – this was supposed to be my happy time. Something had to give. I could almost hear myself laughing wryly at the thought of Pammie being my biggest problem this weekend.
22
I could see Charlotte’s reflection behind me, as we both looked out of the window into the dark, curious as to where we were going. I wondered if, like me, she remembered the last time we’d done a journey like this, as a pair of innocent eighteen-year-olds, about to enter the lion’s den of Ayia Napa. We’d cruelly laughed as our fellow holidaymakers had been dropped off at their hotels by the coach, each place looking less salubrious than the one before. ‘I’m glad we’re not staying there,’ she’d shrieked. ‘I’d never get in that pool.’
Our naivety wasn’t lost on the coach driver, who kept looking at us in his mirror, smiling and shaking his head. Clearly he knew something we didn’t, because when he dropped us off, in the middle of nowhere, he’d laughed at our confused faces.
‘No, this can’t be right,’ insisted Charlotte as we stepped off the coach and straight into squelching mud. ‘The brochure said it was in the heart of things.’
Our driver, who we now saw from his name badge was called Deniz, shook his head and smiled.
The harsh spotlight glaring above the porch guided us down the narrow path, sending geckos scurrying out of our way, as we forlornly dragged our cases.
‘Ciao,’ shouted Deniz cheerily, before pulling away, and all I wanted to do was run after him. Even with his twirled moustache and beady eyes, he seemed a safer option than the matronly-looking woman who was sitting behind the reception desk, sweating and swishing away flies with a swatter. It had taken three or four rakis to see the funny side of things, and I’m still not quite sure how many more before we passed out, waking up on a mouldy sunbed the next morning, with the heat of the Cypriot sun burning down on us.
We’d referred to it ever since – well, at least until we stopped talking – as our ‘coming of age’ journey: a mystical escapade of raki, riot and rampage. I smiled, despite myself.
Pippa’s excited voice invaded my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. ‘This looks like it,’ she said. ‘We’re here!’
The villa, with its peach-coloured walls gently illuminated by uplighters, was beautiful. But I wanted to be here with the people I loved, not a psychotic future mother-in-law and a woman who had slept with my last boyfriend.
‘Wow!’ cried everyone in unison.