What I Did On My Holidays

by Chrissie Manby

  ‘Looking at me?’ That sounded improbable. I turned to see who on earth Callum might be talking about.

  ‘Which guy?’ I asked.

  ‘That one in the red shirt. I recognise him from somewhere.’

  And the guy in the red shirt had definitely recognised me. I sat up in surprise. The guy waved.

  ‘He definitely thinks he knows you,’ said Callum.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Perhaps he’s got me mixed up with someone else.’ This I did not want to have to explain, but Tom the paramedic was already walking round the pool to say ‘hello’.

  ‘Sophie!’ He looked delighted to see me.

  ‘Er . . .’ I clutched my beach towel to my chest.

  ‘I thought it was you,’ he said.

  My brain went blank at exactly the wrong moment. What should I do? My instinct was to pretend he’d got the wrong girl, but that wasn’t going to work. He had already addressed me by name. And now he was standing there grinning, waiting to be introduced to Callum, who was glaring into his beer. It was his third bottle of beer since the bottle of wine we’d finished at lunchtime.

  ‘Oh . . . Tom,’ I said. ‘What a surprise.’

  ‘You’re telling me. I didn’t expect you to be here. And . . .’ He looked towards Callum expectantly. Callum said nothing. He didn’t even meet Tom’s eye. He took another swig from his beer bottle.

  ‘This is Tom,’ I said. ‘This is Callum.’

  Callum nodded but didn’t look up. Meanwhile, I was very careful not to meet any part of Tom’s body with my eyes except for his own steady blue gaze.

  ‘How long are you here for?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Until next Wednesday.’

  ‘That’s great. Have you signed up for any day trips?’

  Oh, no, Tom wasn’t taking the hint from Callum’s unfriendly body language. He was going to stay.

  ‘I’m going for a swim,’ said Callum.

  Callum got up walked straight past Tom to the pool, almost but not quite brushing against him. Unmistakably aggressive. I’d seen him like that a couple of times before when we were out clubbing and I got chatted up, but this was just small talk, in broad daylight. I looked after Callum, hoping he would turn back to look so I could reassure him with a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tom, watching Callum go. ‘He seems a bit upset.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ I replied. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s not normally like that.’

  Though honestly, now that I came to think about it, Callum was often like that.

  Callum jumped into the pool and began to churn the water angrily as he counted out lengths. Tom and I watched him for a moment or two; then Tom turned back to me. His smile this time was wide and genuine. I allowed myself to grin back now that Callum couldn’t see me.

  ‘I thought I spotted you this morning, but I convinced myself it wasn’t you. You didn’t say you were going to be here, when we talked about Puerto Bona last week.’

  ‘I didn’t know I would be here,’ I said truthfully. ‘It was sort of a last-minute thing. After you’d gone, my sister and I said, “Why don’t we have a holiday too?” After all that drama with the fire, I felt we deserved one.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Tom.

  ‘So,’ I asked, ‘are you actually staying here? In this hotel?’

  Tom nodded. ‘I love it. It’s supposed to be the best one in town.’

  That was what Hannah had told me. It was the reason I had booked it. The infinity pool. The poolside bar. The restaurant. The view of the mountains behind. Hannah had promised me they were fabulous, and they were.

  ‘I didn’t see you yesterday.’

  ‘We were on a day trip to the Caves of Drach. Didn’t get back till after dinner.’

  ‘Any good?’

  ‘Quite romantic. We went to a great bar last night, the Palacio Blanco. It was pretty good, apart from all the James Blunt they seemed to play.’

  I found myself wondering who made up his ‘we’.

  ‘Are you here with your girlfriend?’ I asked, trying to make it sound casual.

  Tom turned towards the direction he’d come from and I strained to see if there was some stunning girl showing as much disdain for me as Callum had done for Tom. There were a couple of girls in that direction, but they didn’t look like the kind of girl I had imagined him with. Neither were they looking back in my direction, as they might have done were they curious, in a girlfriend way, about whom he was talking to. And Tom confirmed, ‘I haven’t got a girlfriend. I’m here with my mates.’

  Given that I had flown to Majorca for the express purpose of saving my relationship, I shouldn’t have been interested, let alone slightly pleased to hear that.

  ‘That’s nice,’ I said.

  Tom was looking over my shoulder now, towards the pool again. I glanced in the same direction and caught Callum glaring back. He had finished swimming and was hanging on to the edge of the pool, staring towards us as though he hoped we might turn into stone. This time Tom did take the hint.

  ‘Well, it’s great to see you. I’ll probably see you around.’ Tom nodded and went back to join his pals.

  With Tom gone, Callum got out of the pool and sat back down on his sunbed with a harrumph, dripping pool water all over my paperback as he did so.

  ‘Who was that?’ he asked.

  ‘Just some guy. I’ve seen him around the hotel.’

  ‘Really? You’ve just seen him around,’ he said. ‘Hannah showed me the photos.’

  ‘What photos?’ I asked uselessly.

  ‘The photos of you and that bloke on the beach. Looking very cosy indeed. Looking very touchy-feely.’

  ‘The photos on Facebook?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m surprised you hadn’t changed your status to “in an open relationship”, you put up photos of so many guys.’

  Hadn’t I said that Callum would get the wrong idea?

  ‘No wonder he was so pleased to see you,’ Callum continued. ‘Those photos made me look a right idiot. Do you know how many people emailed me to ask if I’d seen them? Didn’t you tell him you had a boyfriend?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ I said. Later, I would be disappointed in myself for not having said, ‘But last week I didn’t have a boyfriend, did I?’

  ‘You didn’t introduce me as your boyfriend.’

  ‘I told him you were my boyfriend while you were swimming.’

  ‘Really?’

  Callum lay back on his sunbed and draped a towel over his face. The conversation was over.

  I rolled onto my side, facing away from him. I would just have to hope that we didn’t bump into Tom again. It was entirely possible that having seen how badly Callum had reacted, he would give us a wide berth in any case. It was a shame. I would have liked to have been able to get to know Tom better, but I also wanted to keep Callum in my life. After all, I had gone to such lengths to hang on to him so far. If Tom and Callum got into conversation and the real story behind our acquaintance came out, then that week in hiding would have been for nothing. I would have to warn Clare about Tom’s presence in the hotel. I sent her a text.

  ‘Texting your new friend?’ Callum snarled.

  ‘No. I . . .’ I put my phone in my bag.

  Now that I had Callum by my side, I hadn’t been half so diligent in keeping track of my email traffic as I had been the week before. Back in London, however, Hannah and Alison wanted to know what was going on. The whole office wanted to know what was going on. Were Callum and I officially back together or not?

  The answer was, I wasn’t sure. Callum had complained that I hadn’t introduced him to Tom as my boyfriend. Did that mean he thought we were together? Had he changed his mind after discovering Tom was staying in the same hotel? Since meeting Tom, Callum had barely grunted in my direction.

  Thankfully, at around five o’clock, Callum started speaking to me again and said that he wanted to go upstairs to the room I was sharing with my sister and Evan. Clare had texted t
o say they had driven to Manacor, in the centre of the island, to visit a cultured-pearl factory. They wouldn’t be back for hours. I took Callum to the room.

  ‘Let’s have a siesta,’ said Callum.

  He started undoing the ties on my bikini before we were even through the door. We made love on the roll-up bed. It was every bit as wonderful as I remembered and Callum seemed in a much better mood right afterwards.

  ‘Let’s get a hotel room together tonight,’ he insisted.

  I agreed that we should. Apart from anything else, it would be a relief to spend the night with someone who didn’t snore, except when he’d had a great many beers. As luck would have it, the receptionist told us that another room at the hotel had become available for the rest of the week. The couple staying in it had flown back to London after the husband slipped a disc by trying to limbo-dance in one of the clubs. Callum put his credit card down at once and we moved all our luggage into the unfortunate couple’s room, so recently vacated, as soon as we were able. We celebrated by making love again. It was even better than before now that Callum seemed more relaxed. I dared to think he had forgotten all about the incident by the pool already. The rest of the holiday would be wonderful, I was sure.

  ‘Callum and I are definitely back together,’ I confirmed when I texted Hannah that evening.

  ‘Great news,’ said Hannah. ‘Though big shame about your Facebook photo friend.’ She meant Tom. ‘Alison wants to know if he lives in London. If so, could you set her up on a blind date when you get back?’

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The following day, Clare and Evan spent the afternoon at a craft market in the old town. Clare had told me she hoped to buy some decent presents to take back to England there, but I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when she and Evan returned to the poolside bar empty-handed.

  ‘There were some nice leather goods,’ said Clare. ‘Some pretty purses and handbags.’

  ‘It was all rubbish,’ Evan announced. ‘I wouldn’t give any of it houseroom. Besides, you’ve already got hundreds of bags,’ he reminded his fiancée. ‘They take up the whole of the spare bedroom.’

  ‘I haven’t got any bags from Majorca,’ Clare protested. ‘Anyway, I was only thinking of getting a purse. Just a little thing. Something to remind me of this trip when we’re back in grey old London.’

  ‘Isn’t your memory good enough?’ Evan asked. ‘You took enough photos on your iPhone.’

  ‘I know . . . You would have liked those purses,’ Clare half whispered to me.

  ‘Why do girls have to buy so much stuff?’ Evan asked no one in particular.

  Because we were sitting at a table that belonged to the pool bar, a waiter was soon over to see if we wanted to buy a drink and Evan reiterated his view that the drinks at the hotel were way too expensive and he was going upstairs to have a drink in the room.

  ‘Are you coming?’ he asked Clare.

  That she didn’t want to was clear from her face – she was happy in the sun – but Evan was ready to leave. Clare followed a few steps behind. Her shoulders were slumped.

  ‘I don’t know what she’s doing with that boring schmuck,’ said Callum.

  At least bitching about my sister’s fiancé got Callum off the subject of my new Facebook friend.

  I had caught a glimpse of Tom as we entered the breakfast room that morning, but otherwise I had not seen him all day. His group of friends were not in their place by the pool either. Perhaps they had taken another day trip. I tried not to wonder too hard what they might be up to. Callum was far happier that afternoon. He was as attentive and affectionate as he had ever been. So much so that I asked him whether he might like to talk about our relationship and what happened while he was up in Newcastle to make him want to break things off.

  ‘Not now, Soph. Not when we’re having such a lovely day.’

  I let it slide and the day passed in a mellow haze of sunshine and sangria. Maybe he was right. It didn’t seem so important to talk when we were having such a good time. And then Clare and Evan came back downstairs for a swim and our window of privacy was gone.

  Clare sulked her way through thirty lengths. Evan and I were briefly left alone while Callum went to the bar.

  ‘Is your sister all right?’ Evan asked me. ‘I mean, she’s been in a right mood this afternoon. Has she said anything to you about worrying about the wedding or the house since she’s been out here?’

  I didn’t know what I could do but reassure him.

  ‘She hasn’t said anything to me,’ I lied. ‘I’m sure that everything is fine.’

  ‘Time of the month?’ Evan suggested.

  ‘Never say that to her.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because I said she shouldn’t buy another bag,’ Evan mused.

  He asked me to tell her that he was going to the supermarket to buy more water and left the poolside deep in thought.

  That evening, the plan was that we would have dinner at a little place on the seafront with Clare and Evan (chosen by Evan for its budget prices) before going to the Palacio Blanco for real, for the very first time. Not that Evan and Callum would know that. As far as they were concerned, we were Palacio Blanco regulars.

  Over dinner we four shared two bottles of rosé. Evan, Mr Sensible as always, didn’t have much. He wanted to keep a clear head to make sure that we all crossed the road without looking in the wrong direction or something like that. Clare, mindful that Evan might disapprove if she got too drunk without him, also toned down her level of consumption, which meant that both Callum and I probably drank more than we should have done, especially when you took into account the cocktails we’d had while waiting for Clare to finish dressing for the night. Clare took for ever to get ready. I wondered if the sheer volume of luggage she’d brought with her made the task of choosing something to wear more difficult.

  When we got there at ten o’clock, the Palacio Blanco was already heaving. Now that we were at the bar for real, I was struck by how much louder and busier it was than I had ever imagined from the tiny slice of it we had watched via the webcam. The décor that had looked slightly tacky in daylight, when Clare and I poked our noses through the gate on the day we arrived in town, was entirely more magical in the glow of fairylights and candles.

  I took in our fellow partiers. A new bunch of Brits had arrived that day. You could tell that they were newly arrived because so many of them were as pink and sore as freshly boiled lobsters. Still, they were determined to have a good time. That much was clear. Evan put a protective arm round Clare as they negotiated the crowd together. I followed behind Callum and found myself being separated from him by a determined waiter who cut across my path.

  The band was playing James Blunt as we walked in.

  ‘What’s with this shitty music?’ Callum complained.

  Evan gave Callum a stern look. Evan never swore. He’d even managed not to swear when he cut his thumb while fitting the security chain to my front door back in Clapham. Leaving Callum to complain about the music, Evan found a table near the wall. There were only three chairs. Evan gestured that Clare and I should take two of them. Callum slumped down onto the third. By the time Evan had managed to find a chair for himself from the other side of the room, Callum was on to his second beer. He had ordered two at once.

  The next hour was tense to say the least. Evan’s disapproval of Callum was obvious to everyone except Callum himself. Clare, sipping a Diet Coke by now, looked as though she would rather be anywhere else. Much as I wanted Callum to think that I was on his side, I had long given up trying to match his drinking. The way he was narrowing his eyes at the swirling crowd made me nervous. There was no conversation. No one even attempted it.

  Callum broke the silence by saying, ‘Well, this is dull. Whose idea was it to come here?’

  ‘You didn’t exactly come up with many alternatives,’ said Evan.

  ‘They’ve been here all week,’ said Callum, jerking his thumb at me and my sister. ‘I thought they knew where all
the action was.’

  ‘I like this place perfectly well,’ said Evan, reaching across the table to give Clare’s hand a squeeze. ‘Good choice, girls.’

  It was sweet of Evan to try to defend us, but his efforts only made Callum seem more determined not to enjoy himself.

  ‘I’m having a very good night,’ said Evan.

  Callum responded, ‘The beer’s expensive. The band should have retired ten years ago, but then I suppose this music is from your era, right, Evan?’

  I wasn’t at all surprised when Evan announced that he and Clare were going to have an early night. Clare, for once, didn’t disagree with him. She squeezed me lightly on the shoulder as she wriggled out from behind her chair.

  ‘Good luck,’ she mouthed.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I assured her, though I had no idea if I would.

  ‘Sophie’ – Evan leaned down to whisper in my ear – ‘you have my mobile number. Promise me that you won’t walk home alone. Call me and I will come and fetch you. Even if we’ve already gone to bed.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I insisted. ‘Why would I have to walk back to the hotel on my own?’

  ‘I don’t like leaving you here alone with Callum when he’s so drunk. Make sure you remember to look the right way when you’re crossing the road.’

  Good old Evan, playing dad. Clare came back to give me a hug.

  ‘I can deal with it,’ I said.

  Callum didn’t see our exchange. He was too busy ordering more alcohol. When it arrived, we sat in silence. I was grateful for the volume of the music, which disguised the fact that we had not exchanged a word for the best part of an hour. This was not exactly how I had imagined my first night at the Palacio Blanco would be. The bar as a whole had a wonderful atmosphere. The live band filled the place with energy, but Callum’s mood was creating a black hole in our corner of the room.

  Suddenly, Callum straightened up. He puffed out his chest. I had seen that look before and I wasn’t very happy to see it back again. The last time Callum had puffed out his chest like that was when he got into an unpleasant altercation over a parking space one afternoon in Brighton. I’d spent the whole time cowering in the car with my face in my hands. Trouble was in the house.