Here Come the Boys (6 page)

‘I still am,’ replied Angie, not happy that she was being dragged into a conversation with this woman. Of all the people in the world to be stuck with, why did it have to be
her
? She couldn’t have made it up.

‘Yeah. That’s how you’re here on this bench with me. So why are you by yourself?’ asked Selina.

‘My husband’s had bad seasickness for a couple of days and didn’t feel fit enough to walk around,’ Angie explained, then added quickly, ‘I only intended to get off for a couple of hours to buy his birthday present,’ just in case Selina thought she was a rotten wife who would abandon an ailing husband.

So why was Selina here alone then? Angie was about to ask when a taxi approached.

‘I think this is for us,’ said Selina. She looped her small bag over her shoulder, as the taxi drew up in front of them and they got in.

‘I take you to Hotel Bella,’ said the driver. ‘It is not far.’

The hotel was a ten-euro trip away. Selina paid, but Angie insisted on giving her half. She didn’t want any charity from Selina Molloy. From the outside, the hotel looked small and tidy and functional. The air-conditioning hit them like an angel’s breath when they opened the door to the reception area.

The man behind the desk didn’t speak much English but he did manage to communicate that he needed to swipe their credit cards. Selina scrabbled around in her purse but couldn’t find hers. She clapped her hand to her head remembering why.

‘I left it in the room safe with my passport so I wouldn’t be tempted to spend any more than I had in my purse,’ she replied.

Well, you’re stuffed then, aren’t you
? Angie wanted to say. But she couldn’t.

‘I’ll pay you back,’ said Selina gratefully as Angie produced her card. ‘At least you know I’m good for the money.’ Her phone beeped in her bag warning her that it was low on battery. ‘Don’t suppose you have a phone charger?’ she asked the receptionist. He tilted his head at her. Selina pulled the phone out of her bag and pointed to the charge socket. Then she did a very good mime of a long wire and slotting a plug into a wall.

‘Ah,
si
.’ The receptionist bent down and pulled out a box from underneath his counter full to the brim with chargers, left by guests, Angie presumed. As luck would have it, the first one that Selina tried, fitted as true as Cinderella’s slipper. But then Selina always was a jammy git, thought Angie. She expected nothing less.

‘Very busy,’ said the receptionist, holding up one key on the world’s biggest fob bearing the number twenty-one. ‘Holiday. Just one room.’ He wiggled his finger between the women.

‘I think we’re sharing,’ said Selina.

‘I don’t think we are,’ replied Angie. ‘Two rooms.
Dos chambres
? Oh God, what’s Spanish for room?’

‘Dormitorino?’ suggested Selina.

‘That’s a made-up word surely?’

‘
Lo siento.
’ The reception guy lifted his shoulders with regret. He ran his hands over the key hooks at the back of him. ‘No nos quedan habitaciones libres.’

‘They don’t have any free rooms, I guess that means,’ said Selina. ‘We’re stuck with each other.’

As if today couldn’t get any worse
, thought Angie.

Room twenty-one was three floors up. It was simply decorated and beautifully cool. It had a TV, an en suite – and one double bed.

Great
, thought Angie. She wanted a shower, but she had no clean clothes to change into. There were three days before they caught up with the ship. She needed new pants more than she needed food – and she
really
needed some food.

‘I’m starving and I need some clean knickers,’ said Selina, as if picking up Angie’s thoughts. Spookily she always had. Sometimes they used to finish off each other’s sentences at school – they had been
that
close.

‘Me too,’ replied Angie.

‘We might as well go out together and search for shops.’

‘Especially if you’ve got no visa card,’ huffed Angie.

‘I have cash,’ replied Selina with a sniff. ‘I’m sure I’ve got enough for a couple of pairs of drawers.’

‘Look, you just do your thing and I’ll do mine,’ snapped Angie.

Selina shrugged her shoulders. ‘Fine. I’ll see you later then. Please leave the key on reception.’ And she grabbed her shoulder bag and trounced out of the door.

Angie gave it a few minutes before she locked up the room. She didn’t want to spend any more time with Selina than was necessary. There was no sign of her outside, thank goodness. Angie crossed the road to what looked like a shopping mall. It was actually a train station which was full of shops but all of them were either closed or in the process of closing.

Angie walked on and found a few stalls on the pavement selling T-shirts. The only one in her size had a huge Whitesnake emblem on the front and cost thirty euros. She was about to buy one when she turned it around and saw that on the back were the words ‘Make Some Fuckin’ Noise.’ That would have gone down well at the consulate.

Empty-handed, she was returning to the hotel when she spotted Selina, carrying a large canvas bag. Selina waved over and then started drawing what appeared to be a pair of pants in the air with her finger. Angie really was desperate for knickers, so she crossed the road to find out what she was trying to tell her.

‘I’ve just found this place,’ said Selina, thumbing behind her. ‘They sell everything. And I mean
everything
. You can buy anything from a toothbrush to an inflatable giant penis.’

The shop looked tiny from the outside, inside it extended like a TARDIS. There were racks of clothes, toiletries, toys, shoes, stacked floor to ceiling. Behind the counter was the smallest Chinese woman Angie had ever seen in her life grinning and nodding a welcome.

‘Oh my God, pants.’ Angie dived into the underwear area where knickers were hanging up on coat hangers. She chose four pairs which appeared to be the right size, before she looked for anything else. Her trousers were damp with perspiration and clinging to her legs so she hunted through the racks of clothes and found a one-size floaty dress that would have stretched to fit Augustus Gloop’s mother. Then she bought some flip-flops and a toothbrush.

‘I’ve bought toothpaste. You’re welcome to share.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Angie, not comfortable with the idea of sharing anything with Selina again, but feeling she should show some gratitude. ‘Have you bought any antiperspirant?’

‘Damn, I forgot.’

‘I’ll buy that then.’

‘Senorita,’ Selina addressed the small Chinese woman who must have been seventy at least, ‘do you have…’ She began to mime squirting an aerosol under her arm complete with hissing sound accompaniment.

Amazingly the accurate depiction fell on stony ground.

‘Antiperspirante,’ Selina blurted out, not sure if she had remembered the word or made it up.

‘Ah.’ The Chinese woman pointed to a shelf on the far wall. The antiperspirants shared position with some children’s colouring books and bags of crisps.

‘Not exactly what you’d call an organised display,’ said Angie.

‘The madness suits the flavour of the day,’ smiled Selina.

With a canvas bag full of emergency clothes and basic toiletries costing thirty-five euros in total, they left the shop in search of food. It was still very hot, considering it was now six o’clock. Angie spotted a bar on the corner and they headed towards it.

The menu was basic. They each ordered a cheese baguette, chips and a San Miguel which arrived immediately and slipped down their throats like nectar.

‘I can’t remember the last time I had a cold beer.’ Selina sighed with pleasure.

‘You’re too used to champagne,’ said Angie, with no humour whatsoever.

‘Absolutely,’ Selina batted back. ‘Not as refreshing as this in the sun though. Gets warm far too quickly.’

They sat in silence waiting for the baguettes to arrive. Angie could not think of a single thing to say to Selina that didn’t involve a shouty, sweary word.

‘I need a shower,’ said Selina, seconds after Angie thought the same thing. Even that made her cross, as if Selina were stealing her ideas.

The baguettes came with fat chips and a complimentary dish of olives. Angie remembered trying her first olive at Selina’s house and spitting it out into her hand, judging it the most disgusting thing she had ever attempted to eat in her life. Now she loved them. How her tastes had changed over the years, she mused.

‘You used to hate olives. Remember you had your first one ever in our house?’ said Selina.

Angie growled inwardly. Was this Selina Molloy or Psychic bloody Sally?

‘No, I don’t remember that,’ she lied, chomping down on the fat black olive after she had nibbled out the stone first. She much preferred them pre-pitted, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. The chips were hot and salty but quite hard. The salad on the side of the plate had a long black hair on it. Angie gathered the lettuce, tomato and unexpected accompaniment up into a serviette and tried not to think about it as she bit into her sandwich.

Angie was curious to know why Selina had been in Malaga by herself. Had she travelled alone? Had she and Zander split up? But she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. She didn’t want to talk about him with
her
. It might have all happened twenty years ago but she had never quite healed from their joint deception – the two people she had loved most in the world: her first love and her first friend.

They split the bill and set off back to the hotel. A fax was waiting for them from Manuel. A taxi had been ordered to pick them up at nine a.m. from the hotel to take them to the consulate in Malaga. They would be issued with emergency passports after the ship had faxed over copies of their British passports, then they could book their flights out. Manuel said he had been in touch with a Mr Gilbert Silverton on board who had sent details of possible flights they could take. The nine p.m. one to Barcelona looked the best option. From there a plane would take them to Dubrovnik the following morning. The Figurehead rep would be in touch with them there and tell them what to do next. There was a number to call when they landed.

Neither of the women was tired. Angie had a bath to try and knock herself out but it only served to make her feel hot and sticky and so she emptied the water out and had a shower. The nightdress she had bought in the Chinese shop was frumpiness itself though she consoled herself that at least Selina’s was worse. It was huge and hung down to the floor and beyond. She would need a pair of bridesmaids to lift it for her.

‘Don’t we look a pair of berks,’ said Selina with her perfect cut-glass accent, honed through years of elocution lessons. Angie almost giggled but stifled it. She switched on the TV but there was only news, sports and a film showing, all in Spanish. There was, however, an English gardening programme with Alan Titchmarsh. His voice had been dubbed over with a very macho kick-ass Latino replacement. He sounded like Steven Seagal crossed with Julio Iglesias. Angie clicked the TV back off and climbed into the double bed, as near to the edge as she could comfortably fit. There was nothing else to do but sleep.

‘Nothing else to do but sleep is there?’ said Selina, clicking off the light.

Chapter 10

At two o’clock, Angie awoke with a migraine screwing into her left temple. She felt her way into the bathroom, soaked the edge of a towel in cold water and pressed it onto the point of pain. It did very little to relieve it.

‘You okay?’ called Selina.

‘Yep,’ replied Angie, her voice carrying an echo as her head was now over the toilet bowl. The contents of her stomach were rising. And the more she thought about that hair on her salad, the quicker they made a bid for freedom.

Angie’s stomach muscles were aching by the time she had thrown up until she could do so no more. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Selina there with two tablets and a bottle of water in her hand.

‘I went down to reception. I don’t know what these are but I did a really good impression of a vomiting human being with a sore head so I don’t think they’re laxatives.’

‘You went down in that?’ replied Angie nodding at the nightie.

‘Don’t be silly,’ replied Selina, sounding exactly like Margo from
The Good Life
. ‘I slipped my new dress on.’

Angie reached for the tablets and the water.

‘Still get migraines then?’ Selina said, handing them over.

You should have been in my head the day I heard about you and Zander snogging. The one I had then was an absolute belter.

‘Yes.’

Selina held her arm out to help Angie up. Angie ignored it.

‘Suit yourself,’ sniffed Selina, obviously insulted. ‘Only trying to help. Hope you sleep okay.’

She had her back turned when Angie climbed into bed, her head throbbing as if there was someone in there trying to chip his way out with a pickaxe. She closed her eyes and waited for the thrum to subside, it usually did when she had vomited. Classic migraines. No dramatic flashing lights, just pain and sickness. And sometimes a very strange euphoria that visited the morning after, though Angie doubted she would be feeling that.

DAY FIVE

Chapter 11

Angie awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing. She opened her eyes slowly, expecting the headache to realise she was awake and the pain to pounce on her, but it didn’t. Amazingly there wasn’t even a niggle in her temple. Whatever those tablets were, they’d done the trick. She couldn’t even remember saying thank you to Selina for them either. Not that they made up for nicking the love of her life.

Selina’s new dress was hideous. It was as voluminous as a circus tent and made of a fabric with a bright yellow flower print.

‘I know what you’re going to say, but this is possibly the most comfortable thing I have ever worn.’ She twirled around and the dress lifted into a full circle and showed off her new equally horrible big pants. ‘I’d best not do any pirouettes or stand above an air grate,’ she said, studying her reflection in the mirror. ‘God, I look awful without make-up. I wish I’d bought some from the Chinese Tardis. Do you have any? And a brush?’