by Sue Shepherd
‘Pick the surfer dude,’ Lisa advised.
As it turned out, he did, rather ironically, have the slight edge over the ‘Manly’ guy when it came to strength. With one yank, he took control of Beth’s purple Karrimor.
Within seconds, her bag was stowed away in the bowels of his mini-bus. There seemed nothing else to do but to signal to Michelle that the choice had been made. They took a seat on the bus and, once joined by several other scared, pale faced people, they set off to Bondi Beach.
Nobody spoke, they all stared miserably at the passing scenery. Even Beth and Michelle could find nothing to say to each other. Beth’s first glimpse of the Harbour Bridge and the iconic Opera House, went by unceremoniously. In her head she was calculating the shortest possible amount of time they needed to remain in Australia, before they could go home. Was a month enough? If they stayed a month could she say she’d given it a good go? Could she still hold her head up? How about two weeks, was two weeks too soon to return home to the bosom of her loving family? She desperately wanted her nanna, as ridiculous as it sounded, it was true. None of these new people seemed friendly, some were nodding off, some were staring ahead, one was tutting as he tried to take photos through the window of the bus, with his ridiculously large camera. Also, Beth wished with all her heart that she’d done some reading up on Sydney, where the heck was Bondi? Lisa was no use at all. As expected, her geography was diabolical.
As they arrived at their destination, Beth had decided two weeks would be plenty. Sod the plan to stay in Australia for Christmas and New Year, that sure as hell wasn’t going to happen. She’d hide out in their room and persuade Michelle to change their return tickets as soon as possible. In just fourteen nights’ time she could be back in her own bed. She’d tell anyone who asked that she’d had a fabulous holiday, and this whole nightmare would be over. Regardless of Lisa’s name calling that she was a big, fat baby, she was determined not be swayed. Not even by Michelle. Beth just wanted to go home.
The first night they spent in the hostel was, in Michelle’s own words – flippin’ tragic. They were put in a dormitory for six, and soon discovered, to their horror, that the other four people in the room were all men. Beth wondered what Nanna would think, if she knew. Undoubtedly, her dad would have something to say. They found out who their room-mates were when they came back from the local Rugby Club. They were all pissed, and introduced themselves to the girls, by barking out their names: Sean, Conor, Liam, Neil. In their defence, they never made the girls feel vulnerable or awkward, they were perfectly lovely guys. All four men had strong Irish accents and they seemed awfully fond of the word ‘feck’. Having never met anyone like them before, Beth found the situation to be similar to that of sharing a room with four Bob Geldofs, had she ever, in reality, given any thought to that scenario.
The main problem was the snoring. Within ten minutes of them all crashing, drunk as skunks, into their respective bunks (sounds more poetic than it was), the first began to make a noise not dissimilar to a Formula One car being revved repeatedly. Before Beth knew it, the second joined him. This time it was a low rumble which somehow hit just the right note to cause her head to vibrate. And then, God help her, they were all in unison. She had no previous experience to fall back on. Don may have made a few gentle grunts if he ever fell asleep whilst watching TV. Even Nanna occasionally snored if she had a bad cold. But this was the bloody frog chorus. Not realising snoring was going to be an issue, she hadn’t thought to pack ear plugs, there was absolutely no way of drowning out the disturbance. Looking over at Michelle she noted that she seemed to be having the same struggle. The entire night was spent with pillows over their heads, attempting to grab at an elusive sleep that occasionally offered itself to them, only to be snatched away by a ridiculously thunderous grunt.
By the morning, Beth was exhausted. Sleep deprivation is not used as a form of torture for nothing. Already confused by the time difference, by 9 a.m. she was the walking dead.
The Irish lads mercifully checked out in the morning. The rule was, if you were leaving, you left by 10 a.m. and you handed your sheets back to Reception to collect your deposit. The girls knew this, they’d been told it the night before when they’d checked in. Oh, the delight when Beth saw the first of the lads begin to strip his bed, rapidly followed by the other three. She wanted to sing and dance around the room. With a quick, ‘Enjoy the rest of your trip, girls,’ they were gone, and the room was Beth and Michelle’s.
They looked at each other, exhausted. Taking a moment to enjoy the silence, they both fell into a deep sleep.
As soon as they woke up, they headed off to Reception to ask to be moved to a room for two. It cost a bit more, but just knowing there would be no more sleepless nights, filled with the sounds of snoring, was absolutely worth it.
Once unpacked, they set off to the shop near the hostel. They’d spotted it on the way in, the day before. They bought themselves some bread, milk, teabags and butter. Then, they headed to the communal kitchen to make tea and toast.
Beth was surprised to discover people had written such things as, ‘I’ve spat in this!’ on their milk.
‘What the hell?’ She held it up for Michelle’s inspection.
‘Yeah, right. I’ll bet they all put that. Want to taste it?’ Michelle laughed, pushing the carton towards Beth’s face.
‘No thanks.’ She shoved it back in the fridge. ‘Why would anyone write that?’
‘I suppose it’s to stop people stealing their stuff.’
‘Why would you nick other people’s milk?’
‘I guess everyone’s a thief at midnight, when the shops are shut, and you’ve got the munchies. I’ll bet even you will nick someone’s precious cereal and pour on their “spat in” milk.’
The kitchen at the hostel was an amazing place. It was busy, and people were coming and going constantly. Beth and Michelle seemed to meet a new person every few minutes, guys, girls, couples. People were friendly, they just automatically asked the girls where they’d been (nowhere yet!). The main question seemed to be ‒ when are you heading home? But it was viewed as a bad thing. The return journey was something to be put off for as long as possible. When someone uttered the immortal words, ‘I only have a week left in Australia,’ everyone looked at them with genuine sympathy. And so, right there, in that grubby kitchen with its mismatched, dirty cupboards and the words ‘Nuke it ‒ then puke it’ graffitied on the side of the microwave, Beth came to realise she and Michelle were the lucky ones. They had it all ahead of them. All thoughts of returning home with her tail between her legs vanished.
‘I’m going to try to live for the moment.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Lisa seemed pleased with Beth’s decision.
‘And,’ Beth ignored Lisa and continued giving herself a good talking to, ‘whilst I’m here, I’m going to relax and just be myself.’
‘Good grief,’ Lisa sighed. ‘Please be anyone but her!’
Beth and Michelle decided to head to the beach. It was, after all, the reason they were there.
‘We’ll spend a couple of hours here, relaxing. Then, perhaps we could try that Rugby Club for a drink tonight?’ Michelle handed her sunscreen to Beth, adding, ‘Put lots of this on. My book says the sun’s brutal here.’
Beth began covering herself in the creamy lotion.
‘Don’t put any on your face.’
‘Lisa, what are you on about. Of course I need it on my face.’
‘Have you not seen Mount Vesuvius waiting to erupt out of your chin?’
‘Well … yeah … but?’
‘Seriously, a bit of sun will dry that right up.’
‘But Michelle said …’
‘She’s really pale. Look at her, she’s like a ghost. Sure, she needs sunscreen, but you’ll be fine. Just leave it off your face and get rid of that spot. No one’s going to want to make friends with you in this place if you have a bloody great zit on your face.’
Regrettably, Beth took Lisa�
�s advice.
Fourteen
As they left the beach, three hours later, Beth’s face was becoming extremely hot.
‘Um … I think you might have overdone it.’ Michelle looked worried.
‘Overdone what?’
‘The sun. Your face is … really pink.’
‘Is it?’ Beth reached up to touch her cheek. ‘Oh, blimey.’
‘We’d better stop at the shop and get you some After Sun.’
‘I don’t want to waste money on …’
‘Trust me, you can’t see it. This won’t be a waste. I thought you put sunscreen on?’
‘I might have missed my face …’
Michelle’s expression caused Beth concern.
By the time they arrived at the Rugby Club in the evening, Beth was starting to look ridiculous. Her face was giving off a hell of a lot of heat.
Sitting themselves down at a table next to a large crowd of people, Beth noticed, with great embarrassment, that a couple of them kept glancing at her face.
After half an hour or so, the large crowd had somehow absorbed the new girls, and they found themselves in the thick of the group.
‘You just arrived?’ asked a girl with beautiful long blonde hair and a fabulous tan.
‘Yes, how did you …?’
The girl interrupted Beth’s unnecessary question. ‘We all did it, at the start. You mustn’t underestimate the power of the sun here. It’s like, wow, it’s like nothing we’ve ever experienced, you know?’
‘Oh well, I’ve learnt now and at least it can’t get any worse.’
There was pity in the other girl’s face.
Beth noticed she was sitting cross-legged in her chair and was kind of crocheting with coloured threads. Her elegant, slim fingers moved constantly, but she barely glanced down at her work.
‘Would you like one of these? Everyone wears them.’
‘I … um.’
Lisa butted in. ‘Take one or else you’ll seem rude.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘What’s your favourite colour?’ The girl held out a selection of silky threads.
‘Um …’ Beth pointed to the various shades of pink. ‘What are you making?’
‘Friendship bracelets. Watch.’ Before Beth’s eyes, this amazing girl proceeded, at startling speed, to produce a bracelet from a handful of threads. She stopped occasionally, to sip her beer, or tuck her irritatingly beautiful hair behind her ear, and before Beth knew it, the girl was tying the bracelet onto her wrist and whispering, ‘Friends forever’. Beth noticed the girl had several bracelets up both arms, the difference being that hers were all snagged and faded.
Following Beth’s gaze, she advised, ‘You must never take them off. Once someone’s given you a friendship bracelet, you must wear it forever, or the friendship will stop.’ Her innocent blue eyes grew large and sorrowful at the prospect that any friendship might come to an end.
‘Right. Got it.’ Secretly, Beth wasn’t sure she was going to want to wear hers once it became nothing more than a grubby piece of string, but the girl was lovely, she didn’t have the heart to tell her.
Reaching out, this gentle creature’s fingers grazed across Beth’s face. She winced as the heat almost burned her. ‘You poor thing. I might have some Tiger Balm …’ She began rummaging around in her large cloth bag.
‘Oh, it’s fine. I’ve put some After Sun on, Aloe something, it’ll be OK.’
The girl gave her a look of contradiction, but chose not to comment. Instead, she said, ‘I’m Sky. You need to know that, so you know who your new friend is.’ She pointed at the bracelet.
‘Yes, it would help. I’m Beth. Thanks. It’s beautiful.’
‘Would you like another?’ Sky began rummaging in her bag again. She was clearly addicted to manufacturing the things.
‘No, no. It’s fine. I love this one though.’
Sky was what Don would have described as an ageing hippy. She sat differently, spoke differently and dressed differently. Nanna would have loved her! Even with these differences, Sky was totally happy in her own skin. She loved being Sky, there was no doubt about that, and Beth was quite envious of her ability to simply be herself. Admittedly, it must be much easier to be yourself without the condescending voice of your dead twin constantly nit-picking at your every decision.
As Beth contemplated how freeing it must be to be alone in your own head, Sky moved on to Michelle and asked her to choose her favourite colours. The manufacturing process began again.
Throughout the evening, each new, cold bottle of beer Beth received was duly held up to her cheeks for at least two minutes, before she was allowed to begin drinking it, as per Michelle’s instructions. Provided she didn’t look in the mirror when she nipped to the loo, she could almost forget her face was on fire.
She was standing at the bar, waiting to be served, when the guy next to her turned to seek out the barman and caught a glimpse of her. ‘Bloody hell fire, what have you done to your face?’
Beth was immediately aggravated by him. She didn’t need some random northern bloke reminding her that her face was scorched; it wasn’t helpful.
Making an attempt to appear uninterested, she replied, ‘Nothing you need to worry about.’ With that, she walked away from him, leaving the bar behind. She’d get her round in, she wasn’t a Scrooge, but she’d do it later, when he’d moved away.
‘What a tosser. Who asked him to comment?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s not like it’s your fault you look like a fucking radish.’
‘No, Lisa. IT’S YOURS!’
Within seconds, the guy had followed her. Apparently, he was also prepared to lose his place at the bar. ‘Sorry. Wait.’ He grabbed her arm loosely. ‘Seriously, that was such a stupid question.’
‘Yes, it was, rather.’
‘I’m sorry. I was just shocked. It’s … well, it’s really red. Is it sore?’
Beth sighed. ‘The honest answer is yes. It stings like a bastard. But the drink is helping.’
‘You should try holding the beer on your cheek, it’s dead cold and …’ He noted her raised eyebrows. ‘And … let me guess … you’ve already been doing that all night and you don’t need my advice?’
‘Absolutely right.’
He looked slightly embarrassed. ‘Sorry … again! Look, I’m James. Can I buy you a drink?’
‘No, thanks. I’m in a round with some other people.’ Beth gestured over towards Sky, Michelle and all the others. ‘I was next to be served at the bar, but …’
‘But you met me.’
‘Yep.’
‘So, there’s no way I can make it up to you? For being so bloody unhelpful.’
He seemed like a nice guy. He had beautiful, soulful eyes and a gentle smile (when he wasn’t looking horrified). He was cute, and if she was honest, she rather liked the melodious tone of his voice. Had she been anyone else, he would probably have had no problem in winning her over. But Beth was ridiculously embarrassed at the state of her face, and anyway, she wasn’t interested in men.
Giving him no further chance to chat to her, she excused herself as politely as possible and headed to the toilet to splash more cold water onto her poor, painful face.
As Beth left the Rugby Club that night, Sky gave her a hug. ‘Your face, honey … it’ll get worse before it gets better. Try not to panic.’
Sky was right! Waking the next morning, Beth initially thought things had improved. Certainly, the heat had died down, her face was cooler to the touch. However, upon further investigation, she realised it was kind of lumpy.
Too frightened to get out of bed and look in the mirror, she simply lay in bed, crying. Thankfully, since they’d moved to this tiny room with just one set of bunk beds, only Michelle witnessed this spectacle. Slowly coming to, she asked, ‘What’s up? Are you … Beth, are you crying?’
Beth gave no answer, other than the continued sniffling.
Michelle’s legs appeared over the edge o
f the bunk, and she jumped down with a thud. ‘Seriously. What’s up?’ She pulled away the sheet Beth was using to hide her face.
Beth looked up and met her gaze full on.
‘Oh shit!’ Michelle’s eyes widened in surprise.
Beth silently begged for information.
Michelle shook her head. ‘I don’t … you need to look in the mirror.’
Beth gently explored her face with her fingers. There was no doubt, there were large painful lumps. ‘I can’t look.’ Her arm shot out from under the sheet grabbing at Michelle’s leg. ‘Help me. PLEASE?’
Michelle took her hand and gently eased her out of the bed. As carefully as a parent leading a small child, she walked her over to the dusty mirror, which was positioned over a large, old- fashioned sink in the corner. Michelle continued to hold Beth’s hand as she tentatively examined her reflection.
What Beth saw frightened the hell out of her. In three places on her face a water blister had developed under the skin.
‘Wow. Fuck me. Those are some blisters!’ Lisa sounded disgusted.
Beth chose to ignore her.
‘I mean those are not “my new shoes are a little too tight” blisters. Let’s be honest, sis, those things are enormous, and if I’m not mistaken they’re full of some kind of horrible liquid pus or something.’
Beth’s first thought was to long for the humble pimple she’d been worrying about the day before. ‘I’m never taking advice from you again, Lisa. I mean it.’
‘WHAT? What the hell did I do?’
Tears flowed down Beth’s face, dribbling off her lumpy chin. ‘What’s happened?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never …’ Michelle wasn’t sure what medical assistance to offer.
‘I’m going to be ugly forever!’
Michelle was extremely kind, but she was way out of her depth. ‘No, of course not. It’ll heal up soon.’
‘What is in these blisters?’
‘Beth, I don’t think you should touch them …’