No-one Ever Has Sex on Holiday: A totally hilarious summer read

by Bloom, Tracy

  No-one Ever Has Sex on Holiday

  A totally hilarious summer read

  Tracy Bloom

  Books by Tracy Bloom

  No-one Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday

  No-one Ever Has Sex in the Suburbs

  No-one Ever Has Sex on Christmas Day

  No-one Ever Has Sex at a Wedding

  No-one Ever Has Sex on Holiday

  Dinner Party

  The Last Laugh

  Single Woman Seeks Revenge

  I Will Marry George Clooney By Christmas

  Strictly My Husband

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  No-one Ever Has Sex at a Wedding

  Hear more from Tracy

  Books by Tracy Bloom

  A Letter from Tracy

  No-one Ever Has Sex on Christmas Day

  The Last Laugh

  Dinner Party

  Acknowledgements

  For the policeman in the cool shades and curly moustache on Cromer Beach in 1976, who single-handedly saved our family holiday because he found my dad’s car keys.

  Forever remembered!

  Chapter One

  Katy pulled up outside her house just after nine o’clock at night. She’d had the classic last day at work before going on holiday. Full of feverish anxiety and a desperate desire to get everything crossed off the to-do list, despite the fact many of the items had been lingering there for weeks. Even now, her head was still swirling, trying to think of all the things that could go wrong at the advertising agency whilst she was away. She really wasn’t happy that the entire advertising campaign for the roll-out of Began, a new vegan bacon that tasted meatier than bacon, was going live without her there. It was a disaster waiting to happen, she just knew it. But what choice did she have? They had to go on holiday, right? It’s what you do as a family. It’s the highlight of your year. The reason why you spend twelve months slaving your guts out to spend a whole week with your nearest and dearest, having the time of your lives.

  Except Katy couldn’t quite envisage how you had the time of your life whilst battling with a stroppy nearly six-year-old and a terrible nearly two-year-old.

  She took a deep breath and looked up at the house. She’d done nothing to get ready for the holiday. Nothing at all. Fortunately her husband Ben was a teacher and therefore had already had three weeks’ holiday to accumulate piles of clothes on the spare bed and buy all the necessary travel accoutrements to guarantee a fun holiday with children. She prayed that he had remembered that they absolutely must not travel without Calpol, Sudocrem, swim nappies and adult paracetamol. Without these survival items the week could go horribly wrong. Of course the paracetamol on this holiday would be to cure headaches created by sharing one room with two small children rather than to remedy the daily hangovers that had been acquired on their pre-children holidays.

  Katy picked up her laptop bag from the seat next to her and wondered if she would be able to sneak it into her luggage, hiding it amongst the nappies perhaps? Then at least she might be able to get that presentation done for the new client pitch she had in three weeks. That would really help with the inevitable tidal wave of work when she got back from holiday. She doubted she’d get away with that though. Ben had been very firm with her when they had booked the holiday that she needed to relax and leave her work behind. No emails, no computer, no phone calls, no nothing. Just quality family time, he’d said.

  Deluded, she’d thought.

  She’d heard many a horror story from friends who had already ventured to sunnier climes with young children. Wait until he’d spent the fifth day in a row building sandcastles and then see if he would jump at the chance for a conversation on the phone about something other than how does one get all the sand out of a nappy bag?

  Time to embrace it, she thought, getting out of the car. This was their first proper holiday abroad with two children. It was going to be great. Splashing in the pool, playing in the sand and enjoying fabulous Mediterranean food with maybe the odd glass of wine. Not to mention spending time with some of their closest friends. Ben’s best mate ‘Braindead’ was going with his wife Abby and fifteen-month-old son Logan as well as Katy’s close friend and colleague Daniel, who was bringing his husband Gabriel and their daughter Silvie, who was just nine months old. It was going to be a riot, right?

  But it would probably not be like previous holidays with Ben before they had kids, which would have involved lying by the pool, swimming in the sea, goldfish-bowl cocktails and actually rather a lot of sex. That reminded her. They really should perhaps fit a quick one in tonight as there was certainly going be no action next week sharing a room with two kids. Perhaps she should point this out to Ben, as long as she wasn’t too tired after packing.

  She opened the front door and could hear what sounded like some kind of rave coming from the sitting room. There was very loud music playing and much shouting. She walked into the room to find Ben and Millie jumping up and down on the sofa, singing at the tops of their voices. Jack was crouching on the hearthrug, banging some bricks together.

  ‘We’re going on a trip, we’re going on a trip, it won’t be in a ship, it won’t be in a ship,’ they chanted.

  ‘Hello Mummy,’ boomed Ben as soon as he caught sight of her. He leapt off the sofa and went to turn down the music that was blaring out of the speaker.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, wondering if she had the time wrong. Both Millie and Jack would normally have been in bed ages ago.

  ‘I’m trying to keep them awake so that they sleep on the flight tomorrow,’ he said.

  There was certain logic there, thought Katy, however she suspected it could go either way. Yes, they could fall angelically asleep for the entire flight, making it a hugely enjoyable experience, or they could be massively overtired and cranky and make it the flight from hell. Since they were getting up at the crack of dawn anyway to get to the airport, she suspected the odds of a stress-free flight were not in their favour.

  ‘Daddy says we are all going to build the biggest sandcastle ever,’ chipped in Millie. ‘Taller than me!’

  ‘Wow, that’s cool,’ replied Katy, wondering how soon it would take toddler Jack to crush their dreams of sandcastle nirvana.

  She stopped. She needed to give herself a good talking-to. This holiday was going to be fun. Of course it was. Look at the excited looks on Ben and Millie’s faces and the excited dribble coming out of Jack’s mouth.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ said Katy, putting a forced grin on her face and picking Millie up in her arms and swirling her round. ‘I really can’t.’

  * * *

  It was midnight when Katy got to bed and she felt like crying.

  Ben had done a tremendous job of laying all the clothes out on the spare bed but hadn’t thought it necessary to iron them so they were all a
crumpled mess. There was no way Katy was ironing on holiday so at ten o’clock, she’d got the ironing board out and set about ironing all the clothes and carefully putting them into suitcases. It’s okay, she’d thought, tomorrow I get to sit by a pool and do nothing all day. I can sleep then. Possibly. If the kids sleep too.

  Ben had also forgotten to buy kids’ sun cream, which wasn’t his fault as it wasn’t on the list. Katy knew they could probably get it at the chemist in the airport but Millie had had an allergic reaction to a sun cream last year so they had to use a particular one and, if they didn’t have it, it would be a disaster. So Ben spent half an hour trying to locate a late-opening pharmacy that stocked the sun cream they needed then drove off into the night, saying he would come back with a takeaway because in a fit of over-organisation he’d already cleared the fridge of food.

  He arrived back just after 11 p.m. as Katy was clearing away the ironing board and they sat watching the telly in exhausted silence, munching on Chinese food.

  As Katy bit into a spare rib she remembered that she hadn’t sent an email to their finance director about a budget cut to one of the campaigns. She grabbed her phone and fired the email off, knowing that if she didn’t do it now, she might forget.

  ‘You will try and switch off from work this holiday, won’t you?’ Ben asked her as she furiously typed into her phone with one hand whilst dangling the rib in the other.

  She nodded, her mouth full and her concentration focused elsewhere.

  ‘I had a text from Braindead earlier,’ he said when she’d put her phone down. ‘Asking if they’d be okay to take four cases onto the plane.’

  ‘Good God,’ spluttered Katy. ‘What are they taking with them? Logan’s cot or something? They’ve only got one child coming with them, why on earth do they need four cases?’

  ‘I said that,’ replied Ben. ‘Braindead said Abby needs a case just for her going-out clothes.’

  ‘Going-out clothes? She does realise what kind of holiday this is, doesn’t she? I mean, she has a baby now. There won’t be much going out on the town happening, will there? We’ll be lucky to enjoy a drink in the hotel bar.’

  ‘Braindead’s so excited about coming with us, you know,’ said Ben. ‘It’s been ages since me and him have been on holiday together.’

  ‘Where did you last go with him?’

  ‘Faliraki was our last big boys’ trip. Braindead got arrested.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Impersonating a police officer… whilst dancing naked on a podium in a club.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Katy. ‘How do you impersonate a police officer whilst naked?’

  ‘I can’t remember,’ replied Ben. ‘But Braindead, being Braindead, managed it.’

  Katy felt a slight fluttering in her chest at the thought of the implications of taking Ben’s best friend on holiday with them. It wasn’t that Braindead was stupid, far from it. He was one of the smartest people that Katy had ever met; he just had a very strange way of showing it. He saw things in a very different way to the rest of the universe. Hence his nickname, which Ben had given him at school and which everyone now used rather than his real name, which was a very sensible-sounding Craig. To be honest though, he’d mellowed since the birth of his son Logan just over a year ago. He was now the epitome of a doting dad and was totally and utterly smitten. So maybe this newer, more mature Braindead was safe to go on holiday with.

  ‘I guess he is a father now,’ Katy said. ‘Not sure he’ll be doing any naked podium dancing this holiday,’ she added. ‘We’re more likely to see that sort of behaviour from Logan. Is he still taking his clothes off at any opportunity?’

  ‘Seems so,’ replied Ben. ‘Apparently Braindead lost him in the fruit and veg section of the supermarket the other day. Found him fondling potatoes with his clothes in a pile next to him. Braindead reckons he’s going to be a naturist. He’ll have a beard and wrinkly bottom by the time he’s three.’

  Katy thought briefly about the chaos that Logan, the fifteen-month-old stripper, and Jack, the nearly two-year-old toddler, could bring to the holiday and shuddered slightly. At least having kids around would mean that no-one was likely to get arrested, she figured. That would be a bonus.

  ‘Did you see Daniel today?’ Ben asked. ‘Did they get Silvie’s passport okay?’

  ‘Well yes, just in time. Can’t believe they forgot they’d need one for her. I think he was a bit disappointed with the passport office though.’

  ‘Why? Did they make a fuss? I did wonder if it would be difficult, what with her being a surrogate baby and having two dads and that.’

  ‘No actually. They made no fuss at all. It was all dead easy, Daniel said. I think he was expecting the red carpet treatment, you know. I think he wanted to feel special and unique, like there should be a separate channel for surrogate babies and gay dads or something. You know what he’s like. He’s all for being treated like an equal but what he really wants is to be seen as some unique pioneer and he gets upset when he’s treated like he’s just normal.’

  ‘That’s why I still can’t believe he wanted to come on holiday with us,’ Ben observed. ‘A package-style holiday in Spain? I can’t see him fitting in at all, can you? He has such a poor attitude when it comes to mixing with the masses. He won’t even watch Pointless on TV for fear he might be contaminated.’

  ‘Oh, I have no doubt that Daniel didn’t want to come really but Gabriel was keen. Gabriel wants to make sure that Silvie has as normal an upbringing as possible. Apparently Daniel suggested a safari in Kenya but Gabriel put his foot down.’

  ‘But Gabriel is Spanish! Surely he would want to do authentic Spain, not Brits-abroad Spain?’ said Ben.

  ‘Perhaps he thinks it’s the perfect way for Silvie to experience both cultures at the same time?’ replied Katy.

  ‘So we should put him in a sombrero, take him down to the Irish bar and buy him a pint of Guinness and then have a good old sing-song on the karaoke,’ said Ben nodding thoughtfully.

  ‘Heaven knows what he’s going to think,’ replied Katy, shaking her head. ‘He may never see his beloved home country in the same way again!’

  * * *

  Katy set her alarm for five in the morning so they could be ready for the taxi to pick them up at six. She was already worrying about whether that was long enough to get two small excitable children dressed and fed and ready to get out of the door.

  ‘You know we’re sharing a room with the kids on holiday,’ Ben whispered in her ear just as she closed her eyes.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘But I’m knackered. Sorry. Can we just go to sleep? Maybe we’ll get the chance to leave the kids with everyone else one night and sneak off.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Ben whispered. ‘I’m sure that will happen. Night, night. Happy holidays.’

  Chapter Two

  ‘What do you think of this one?’ asked Abby. ‘Braindead? Look at this one. It’s blue, you see, goes with those green shoes I bought last week in the sale. Remember I told you. Braindead, are you listening?’

  ‘What?’ said Braindead, jerking his head up. He was lying on the floor, pushing a train up and down in front of Logan, making the puffing noises and everything. He was very proud of his puffing noises. He’d spent some time perfecting them and now he was pretty much a pitch-perfect copy of Spencer out of Thomas the Tank Engine.

  ‘What do you think of this dress?’ asked Abby again. ‘I bought it today. To take on holiday.’

  Braindead looked at it. It was blue.

  ‘You look great,’ he said, grinning at Logan and pretending to drive the train over his leg, making more desperate puffing noises. Logan chuckled in delight. Braindead gathered up another train and drove that one over his head, making a whining sound as it reached the summit.

  ‘Daddy,’ laughed Logan, clapping his hands.

  ‘He said Daddy again,’ Braindead said, looking up at Abby.

  ‘I know, you tell me every time,’ she replied before disappearing out the r
oom.

  ‘This was a bargain,’ she said reappearing, this time in silver sequins. ‘I reckon it’s leftover stock from Christmas but you could so wear it on holiday. Because it’s strapless. And it goes with those diamante shoes I bought last week.’

  Braindead glanced up. His wife looked like she was ready to go down to Valentine’s nightclub in Leeds, not packing for a family holiday in Spain.

  He had no idea why she needed so much stuff. As far as he was concerned all they needed were a couple of T-shirts, some shorts and swimming stuff. No more than that. Although he had bought Logan some really cool Spider-Man swimming shorts online. He couldn’t resist. Oh, and a shark-fin swimming hat and a massive doughnut-shaped float that he would be able to push him round the pool in. Logan couldn’t be seen without the proper kit. That was a given.

  ‘Should I take it, do you think?’ Abby asked him as she twirled round in the dress. ‘I do have another silver dress already packed.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked her. ‘It’s not like we’ll be going out to clubs or anything, is it? Not with this little chap in tow. Kids’ club maybe but I think you would be a bit overdressed for the sandpit in that.’

  Abby stopped twirling and stared at Braindead. Her shoulders sagged.

  ‘You never wear ninety per cent of the clothes you take on holiday anyway,’ he continued. ‘It’s like a rule. You should pack and then halve it. Especially for this little streaker,’ he said, tickling his son. ‘He’s unlikely to wear anything at all. Going to come back brown as a berry, aren’t you, chap? That reminds me, have we got sunblock for Logan’s winky? We need to look after that little fella.’