by Ben Adams
As I arrived at my parents’, my sister Hilary and her partner Donna were just taking their first sips of Prosecco. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ I announced as I let myself in with the key I hadn’t got around to returning.
The evening was just like old times. My mum and dad, with able support from Hills, cans of London Pride and bottles of Prosecco, spent the evening reminding me that I am not only divorced but jobless. My mum had ‘inadvertently’ opened a letter addressed to me from my current employer giving me formal notice of my redundancy.
‘Oh, and I saw your ex the other day in Wimbledon. She told me she has got a new fellow. A stockbroker or something like that, isn’t he?’ my mum asked. My ex would have taken great pleasure in showing my mum that she was doing better without me thank you very much.
‘So what, I have got a new woman too,’ I boasted before I could stop myself. I hadn’t intended to tell my family about Amy but I couldn’t just sit there and be ritually humiliated all evening.
‘Have you? Isn’t it a bit soon after your divorce?’ my mum asked.
‘I hope you aren’t setting a bad example to your children,’ my dad offered.
‘Is she fit?’ was my dear sister’s contribution. Thankfully, Donna didn’t feel she knew me well enough to chip in.
By the time I scrunched up my last can and threw it into the recycling, I had promised to bring Amy over to meet my parents. Me and my big mouth.
Friday 25th July
Jack and Sean were hyper this evening. They are with me from now until we get back from Turkey. It feels good. We went off to buy some summer clothes. Why is it that whatever the weather, all the kids want is khakis? Will someone tell them there isn’t a war on in Turkey?
I can’t wait to be solely responsible for my boys for more than just the odd day or two. I have been looking forward to this holiday since the moment Katie and Bryan invited us. It will be the longest continuous spell of time I have had with Jack and Sean since the two weeks I spent with them last summer when my ex buggered off to some Scottish island to ‘find herself’. I don’t know what she found but when she came back she told me she wanted the divorce.
The three of us got on fine over that two week period, although we didn’t do much other than enjoy relaxing in a house with no tense atmosphere and no excessive rules. I wouldn’t have had the confidence to take the boys abroad without my ex this time last year so our trip to Turkey should definitely be seen as a step forward in my quest to get a life.
Sunday 27th July – Sunday 3rd August
Maybe we should have stayed at home. I thought beach-based holidays in Turkey were supposed to be full of sun-bathing and water-based fun, with the added bonus of a bit of lager-supping thrown in. I thought they were supposed to be put-your-feet-up-type holidays during which families bonded and made memories. Well, I suppose we did make memories.
Our fun started at Gatwick as we arrived for our early morning flight. I have heard it said that you don’t truly get to know people until you go on holiday with them. Well, I felt like I knew Katie and Bryan too well by the time we reached passport control. They were rowing when we met them at the check-in desk. The first thing I heard Katie say to Bryan as we approached their group with open arms ready to give them a start-of-holiday bear hug was, ‘For fuck’s sake Bryan, I can’t believe you forgot to pack the vodka. You know I need a few drinks to calm my nerves before I get on the plane.’
Despite Katie buying a replacement bottle in duty free, she still wasn’t happy. ‘Where the hell is my makeup bag? You didn’t put it in the suitcase did you? For fuck’s sake, you are a stupid man.’ Bryan looked at me apologetically and shrugged.
Luckily whilst most of this was going on Jack and Sean were in an amusement arcade with Josh and Theo, the Green’s children. I am no prude but I was glad that the boys weren’t exposed to the worst of Katie’s language. I had brought them on holiday to forget family strife, not to share other people’s.
Sometimes when you spend the odd evening with a couple, you think things like ‘ah, aren’t they the perfect couple’ and ‘oh, they look so happy together’. I am sure my ex and I used to say that sort of thing about Katie and Bryan. How wrong we were. As we were boarding the plane, Katie grabbed Josh and Theo and threatened to take them home again if Bryan didn’t apologise for some insult or other I didn’t quite catch. Bryan just walked on to the plane and eventually Katie and the kids followed.
I am fully up for a pint or two at the airport whatever time our holiday flight is, but I have never gone to the extreme that Katie did on our journey to Turkey. She carried on drinking on the plane and was virtually comatose by the time we had landed in Turkey. At least she slept in the taxi to the villa. Her outbursts were limited to the odd belch, an infrequent snore and a slightly more regular fart. I was charitable at the time and put this all down to the stress of her job or of travelling or something like that.
When we arrived at our villa we were really pleased with what we saw. Our home for the week was a huge whitewashed house, set into the mountainside just above Ovacik, a small town a few miles inland from Oludeniz. My ex would have loved the view, especially the sunset over the mountains.
Inside the villa, there were four large bedrooms, two with en suites. Outside, there was a balcony to the front with views over the surrounding mountains and, much more importantly to the children, the rear of the villa housed a large pool. Much more importantly to Katie, there was a bar area and large fridge next to the pool. The first thing Katie and Bryan did when we got to the villa was stock up the bar from the local supermarket.
There were times during our holiday where I really found myself missing my ex. We had some great family holidays. That first night, after Katie’s exploits on the journey to the villa, I sat by the pool after everyone else had gone to bed and felt a little bit homesick. My ex would have loved sitting there with me, drinking a chilled glass of wine and watching the stars gradually emerge in the darkening sky.
My ex would also have known how best to shield the kids from Katie’s worst excesses. I struggled with that bit. Katie and Bryan carried on arguing throughout our first full day at the villa. Not unconnected, Katie carried on drinking too. She didn’t seem to care who was around her either. At one point, the kids’ human pyramid in the pool collapsed and Katie got soaked in the resulting splash. ‘For fuck’s sake you lot, can’t you go and play somewhere else?’ she shouted at the four of them.
I was about to lose the plot with Katie when Bryan put his hand out and stopped me. ‘Leave it to me, Graham,’ he said, pleading with his eyes for me to let him handle things. I hurriedly took all four kids off to the beach, bought them ice creams and, at least on the surface, they seemed to forget about Katie’s outburst. Even at the height of our divorce, my ex and I didn’t speak to our children like that. I sat on a sunbed with my feet in the tranquil waters of the Blue Lagoon, feeling pretty disconsolate. I had brought my children here to get away from family strife, only to drop them smack bang in the middle of something far more vitriolic than they had previously experienced.
I don’t know what I would have done if Katie had carried on with her excessive drinking and obnoxious outbursts throughout the holiday. Thankfully, whatever Bryan said while the four kids and I were at the beach seemed to calm Katie down for the next couple of days at least.
Our third full day was actually pretty harmonious. We all went to the beach, hired kayaks, raced each other and played games like ‘last man standing in their boat wins an ice cream’. Katie, who had noticeably cut down on her drinking, even joined in. It turned out that balance wasn’t her strong point even when she was sober.
In the afternoon, the adults chilled out on sunbeds as the kids continued their water games. I even got in a spot of bird watching. At least when I was married I could hide behind my mirrored sunglasses, eye up the talent on display on the beach and know that when I felt horny, assuming she was up for it I could go back to the villa with the wife. Now I don’t hav
e that luxury.
The seven of us finished off our day with a traditional Turkish meal. The adults enjoyed the belly dancing and fire dancing even if the kids were less than impressed.
The next couple of days were just as good. We visited a few different beaches, mostly in the lagoon. The older boys jumped off rock faces in to the sea and generally they laughed a lot. The adult conversation never really flowed, though.
As the days progressed, Katie slipped back into her drinking habit. The results were predictable. On the fifth evening, the seven of us went to Seahorse Beach to have dinner on the beach. It was one of the most picturesque settings I had ever eaten at. The sun was setting across the other side of the lagoon. The shimmering water was lapping the sand only feet from where we sat. We shared this view with one other couple who had booked the same treatment as us. Poor them.
Katie was pretty plastered by the time our dinner was served. She argued with the waiter about which swordfish steak she had ordered. At least I think that was what she was saying in her alcohol-induced slur. I could see Bryan visibly fretting about what she was going to say or do next. He was right to fret. As she stood up to continue her argument with the waiter, she stumbled forwards and landed face first on the table, sending plates and drinks crashing on to the sand.
None of us fancied staying after Katie’s performance so we paid the bill and left, apologising as we went for spoiling the other couple’s enjoyment of the otherwise peaceful scene. Ironically, as we left the beach, a wedding ceremony was starting up on the next beach along.
Once we got back to the villa, I took the boys out to the table by the pool for a pre-bed game of cards. Unfortunately, Katie insisted on coming out to the poolside bar to have one last drink.
After downing her latest glass of wine, she once again stumbled out of her chair and asked Bryan to take her to bed. The kids witnessed the encounter.
‘You go to bed Katie, but I am not coming with you. You are too drunk,’ Bryan told his wife.
Katie, in the most ungainly manner possible and in full view of the kids, lifted her skirt and clambered on to Bryan’s lap, facing him with her legs sticking out over the arms of the plastic chair. ‘Bryan, I haven’t had a fuck in months because you’ve been too busy shagging that tarty hairdresser to notice me.’
‘You haven’t had a fuck in months because you are an ugly cow, not because I have been shagging that tarty hairdresser,’ Bryan responded.
At that point I intervened for the sake of the children and suggested quite forcibly that Katie and Bryan might want to carry on their conversation in private.
‘Oh fuck off Graham,’ Katie shouted, ‘even you have had sex more recently than me so you can shut the fuck up too.’
‘God,’ Jack joined in, ‘Dad hasn’t had sex since he split up with mum and that’s, like, ages ago.’
‘Yes he has, he shagged Julia after her dinner party,’ Katie responded.
‘Who the fuck’s Julia?’ Twelve-year-old Sean asked.
I don’t know how my sex life managed to get worked into an argument between Katie and Bryan, but the fact is that it did. They say ‘never go to bed on an argument’. As no one was prepared to talk to anyone after Katie and Bryan’s outburst, including my kids to me, we all went to bed.
The following day, Bryan went home. Or at least he left the villa. Katie was quiet all day. I am not sure she could even remember the events of the night before. She apologised at lunchtime. I was preparing our baguettes and mumbled my acceptance of her apology.
‘Do you think I am attractive?’ she asked.
I think she was just seeking reassurance after Bryan called her an ugly cow but thinking that I needed to avoid giving off misleading signals, I simply shook my head. Things were even quieter in the afternoon.
I hate my children witnessing adults behaving so badly. I failed in my duty as a father to shield them. I tried repeatedly to talk to the boys. Not just my two but Josh and Theo too. I couldn’t help thinking that Josh and Theo had heard all this before. If there is some small consolation to be taken from Katie and Bryan’s antics it is that my children might be living in a broken home but they have never heard their parents disrespect each other to that extent.
Of all the children, Sean seemed to have been the least affected by the argument. He carried on playing his swimming pool games despite the others being less willing to join in. He said the ‘F’ word in the argument but I didn’t have the energy, let alone the moral currency, to pull him up for that.
I have already beaten myself up over my exploits with Julia. The evening after Katie’s outburst, Jack decided he wanted his turn. I can’t say I blame him. ‘How could you do such a thing, dad?’ he asked. The only way of responding to Jack was to be honest with him. I didn’t try to justify my sleeping with Julia but I did explain the circumstances that led to me making the wrong choice.
‘Do you love Julia?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Do you love Amy?’
‘Love’s a hard thing to define,’ I told him.
‘I love Lucy,’ Jack confessed.
I tried to talk to Jack about his declaration of love for Lucy but, unlike a month ago when he actively sought out my advice on the subject of girls, this time he didn’t want to listen.
Until now I have always striven to maintain a fairly traditional set of boundaries in my relationship with my sons. I try to be someone they can look up to and respect. Someone they can trust to know the right thing to do, someone who will always do the right thing. After recent events it will take me a while to win back their trust and respect.
I can’t blame Jack for being annoyed with me. He was still annoyed even after I had talked to him. I am not setting the right example to my kids. I don’t think he has texted the news to Lucy but I can’t bring myself to ask him outright. If only I had taken Julia’s hand off my leg at that dinner party.
Our final full day in Turkey was no less eventful that those that had gone before it. I had become the responsible adult for all four children. Katie spent the day doing god knows what at the villa. The four children and I went to the beach. We did all the traditional stuff, from the banana boat (I fell off but the kids stayed on), to ice-creams and digging holes in the sand. We were out in the sun all day.
As it was our last night in Turkey and despite me already having blown my holiday budget, I took the four boys out to dinner. I was hoping for a good Turkish meze and maybe a bit more belly dancing but after the last couple of days I decided to let the kids choose the restaurant. Burgers and chips it was then. We had a reasonable night. It amazes me how resilient kids are.
When we returned to the villa, I was knackered and wanted my bed but the kids wanted to have one last competition of jumping into the pool as spectacularly as possible. I succumbed and joined in with them. Sean tried to jump off a plastic chair. The chair slipped as he as jumping and Sean’s heel landed on the edge of the pool step. He was in agony.
After waking Katie up from her drunken stupor and leaving her in charge of the other three kids (even when pissed she couldn’t do a worse job than me), off I went with Sean to hospital.
To cut a long story short (because I am tired and haven’t slept for 36 hours) we were at the hospital all night. They X-rayed Sean’s ankle. A doctor tried to talk to me about what they wanted to do to fix it but his grasp of English, although admittedly infinitely better than my grasp of Turkish, wasn’t sufficient for me to comprehend what he was talking about. At one point they were trying to ask me about insurance. It turns out that the stupid little health insurance cards I had so diligently applied for before we went on holiday aren’t valid in Turkey.
As dawn approached, I decided it would be easier to get Sean home to London. I carried him out of the hospital, back to the villa, chucked our stuff into suitcases, carried them and Sean to the airport, onto the plane, off the plane, through the airport and straight to accident and emergency.
And that’s not the end of th
e disasters. Jack, Josh and Theo all felt like shit during our journey home. It was probably sun stroke from yesterday as I don’t remember insisting that they cream up.
I phoned my ex from the hospital waiting room. She was there in half an hour.
‘What the hell were you doing?’ she asked me once she had given Sean a cuddle.
I was too tired to argue. I just put my hands up and walked off to find a coffee machine. Had I hung around, I haven’t got a clue what I would have said in my defence. I would have had one less leg to stand on than Sean.
When I returned from the canteen, the consultant was with my ex. Sean has broken the calcaneus bone (his heel). That’s the end of his cricket season for this year, not to mention his chances of swimming in the Caribbean sea. The good news, though, is that he doesn’t need surgery.
‘You do know you have wrecked Sean’s Antigua holiday now, don’t you?’ my ex muttered angrily at me as she was pushing Sean out of the hospital doors in a wheelchair.
It was an accident that could have happened to anyone, but I don’t think I will enter myself for dad of the year this year.
Monday 4th August
Sean had his foot put in plaster today.
Despite everything, Jack phoned me this afternoon and thanked me for taking them on holiday. Bryan also texted me and asked if I fancied going for a beer. I am not sure I can face seeing any more of either Bryan or Katie for a while.
With less than seven weeks until my 43rd birthday, I spent today reassessing my priorities. I have made progress on some of the goals I set for myself when my divorce came through. Our Turkey trip shows that I have got some way to go before I can call myself a great dad. The Julia incident could prove my undoing with Amy. And I haven’t got a job of any description, let alone a more interesting one.