‘They’re too high! You’ll fall and break a hip.’
‘Listen, young lady, I’ve been wearing heels higher than this since before your mother was born. Worry about your own hips.’
‘Yes, but you weren’t eighty-four then.’
‘I’m not eighty-four now,’ came the indignant reply.
‘Yes, you are. Hang on.’ Nina counted back on her fingers, her face screwed up in concentration. ‘We celebrated your eightieth birthday when I was twenty-four. I’m now twenty-eight. That makes you eighty-four.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Flossie retorted.
Nina blinked, confused. Maths might not be her specialist subject, but adding and subtracting had never been an issue for her.
‘It wasn’t my eightieth birthday,’ Flossie said.’ It was my seventy-ninth.’
‘Your seventy-ninth? But there were balloons with eighty on, and cards saying “Happy 80th Birthday, and a banner. You even had a cake.’ Dear lord, the old lady really was losing it. Poor old thing. Nina prayed her grandmother wouldn’t deteriorate too much before she got Flossie safely back home.
‘Yes, that’s right, dear, I did,’ Gran said. ‘Lovely cake it was, too.’
‘But if it wasn’t your eightieth birthday, why did we all…? Forget it, it doesn’t matter.’ Her grandmother’s logic often confounded Nina, and her mother had long ago given up trying to make sense of it all.
And with that Nina escorted her grandmother to breakfast.
Chapter 5
The hotel was still nice and quiet. A few people sat at tables and there were one or two more at the buffet, but that was all. Nina thought there might have been some children up and about but… Hang on, Nina gave herself a mental slap on her forehead. Of course! This hotel was probably aimed at the elderly. They weren’t travelling with Saga, the most well-known of the holiday companies for the over fifties, but she guessed this was similar. Ergo, no children.
Her theory was shot out of the water when she got a good look at the other breakfast eaters. They all seemed to be around her age, or a little older, and certainly not in the retired league.
She settled Flossie at a table, and went off to forage, coming back with a heaped bowl of fruit salad topped with creamy yoghurt. Yum. Whilst she was gone, two cups of coffee had been placed on the table.
‘They’ve got three different kinds of muesli,’ Nina enthused, tucking into her fruit with gusto. She’d almost finished when her grandmother returned with a plate piled high with pancakes and syrup, with a selection of pastries on the side.
‘Want one?’ Gran offered.
‘No, thanks. I only usually have a smoothie, so this is a treat for me.’
‘Hmmph. We’re at an all-you-can-eat buffet and you stick to rabbit food. Live a little.’
‘I don’t call eating sugar-laden pastries living a little,’ Nina retorted as her grandmother stuffed a huge forkful of dripping pancake into her mouth and chewed enthusiastically.
‘Let your hair down for once,’ Flossie said. ‘Have some.’ She picked up the plate of pastries and thrust it in Nina’s direction.
Nina shuddered. ‘Maybe later,’ she said, trying to placate the old woman, who seemed intent on getting her fat. Nina knew she’d have to be careful on the food front, else she’d return home the size of an elephant. And she’d probably break out in spots too, if she ate too much rich food.
Breakfast done, Flossie headed off towards the pool, Nina trailing behind. Flossie, after much dithering, decided on a spot halfway between the poolside bar and the pool itself. Several sunbeds had towels draped over them, but there were plenty to choose from. Nina, after checking where the sun was (it was just peeping over the top of the rather high mountain and already the temperature had started to rise) angled hers so it was in the shade of two umbrellas.
She wished Flossie hadn’t rushed her out of the room – she’d intended to lather herself with factor fifty before she staked her body out on a lounger to bake. Once she’d stripped off down to her swimming costume, she made do with lifting straps and moving the edges of the material aside to make sure she coated every inch of exposed skin. She had no intention of burning.
Her grandmother, on the other hand, dragged her tunic over her head, and flopped down on her sunbed with a grunt.
Nina stared at her in horror.
‘What?’ Flossie looked down at her wrinkled, sagging body and gave Nina a defiant look. ‘You’ll be old one day,’ she warned.
‘You’re not seriously going to wear that?’ Nina exclaimed.
‘I’ve got it on, haven’t I?’
The it was one of the tiniest bikinis Nina had ever seen, and not only was it almost indecently skimpy, it was also neon pink, a pink so bright it could bring down passing aircraft.
Nina’s mouth was open as she stared in disbelief.
‘And you’re not seriously going to wear that, are you?’ her grandmother retorted, peering over the top of her sunglasses, her mouth screwed up like a drawstring bag. ‘You look like an old woman.’
At least I don’t look like mutton dressed up as lamb, Nina thought, before replying with, ‘There’s nothing wrong with my swimming costume – it’s a perfectly acceptable one-piece. In fact, I’ve brought another one very similar. Sorry Gran, but a bikini, at your age?’
‘My age is the best time to wear one, when nobody cares what I look like, least of all me. I wish I’d had the guts to wear something like this when I was a young woman and could have done it justice.’
‘But, Gran, you’re showing practically everything you’ve got.’
‘My nipples are covered, I’m not flashing my tuppence, and there’s enough material to cover my backside, so what’s your objection?’
Your age, that’s my objection, Nina wanted to say. It simply wasn’t seemly for a woman of her grandmother’s advanced years to be exposing so much flesh. She hoped the rest of the clientele were better covered up.
‘Morning.’
Nina glanced up, and found herself staring a pair of budgie-smugglers in the eye. The white swimming trunks were so tiny and tight, she could see exactly how well-endowed (or not) the man who wore them was.
She gulped, and hastily dragged her eyes away from his pride and joy and up to his face. In between, she caught a glimpse of a hairless chest and a slight pot-belly.
‘Good morning,’ she replied, a little haughtily.
‘Are you going to the bar?’ her gran asked. ‘I could murder a vodka.’
‘Gran! It’s only nine-thirty.’
‘So? I’m on holiday.’
The stranger laughed, and Nina squinted up at him. She couldn’t see his face clearly because the sun chose that moment to rear its head above the parapet of the mountain and try to blind her. The sudden rise in temperature as the rays hit her exposed flesh made her wince.
‘They don’t serve alcohol until ten,’ the man said to her grandmother, then, much to her chagrin, he addressed Nina. ‘It gets much hotter than this in the afternoon. I guess this is your first day?’
She nodded, not wanting to encourage him, but not wanting to appear rude, either.
He squatted down in front of their sunbeds, his knees spread wide, and Nina had a close-up of his manhood as everything bulged against the thin fabric, fighting for space.
Please put it away, she begged silently, trying not to look.
‘We arrived this morning,’ Flossie said, lying back on her sun lounger, before sitting up sharply again to remove a forgotten curler from the back of her hair.
‘Thought so. You can always tell the new arrivals by the colour of their skin. Or lack if it!’ He laughed heartily at his own joke. ‘I’m Carl,’ he said. ‘Got another three days to go. Maybe I’ll see you later?’
This last comment was aimed at Nina and she managed to produce a weak smile. He waited expectantly until she said, ‘I’m Nina, and this is my grandmother, Flossie.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ He held out a hand, and Nina shook it
reluctantly. His grip was flaccid and clammy (flaccid wasn’t a word she wanted to think about right now, not when she was in such close proximity to the contents of his budgie-smugglers, but she couldn’t help herself), and he held her hand a little too long, stroking a finger across her knuckles.
She snatched her arm back and tried to resist the urge to wipe her hand on her towel.
‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ Carl said, looking at Flossie, ‘but how did you manage to get a room here?’
‘Excuse me!’ Nina was incredulous at his rudeness. How dare he! Her grandmother had as much right to be here as he did. Just because she was old didn’t mean she shouldn’t be able to go on holiday.
‘I told the travel agent I’d sue them for being ageist,’ Flossie said, her expression deadpan.
‘Nice one!’ Carl chortled, ‘though I don’t think there’s anyone else in your age group here. Trying to bag yourself a toy-boy, are you? Go for it, I say.’ He stood, and Nina kept her attention firmly on the ground, so as not to risk getting another eye-full. ‘See you later, I hope.’
He sloped off. Nina let out a sigh of relief. ‘What an obnoxious man,’ she said, ‘suggesting old people shouldn’t be allowed to go on holiday.’
‘I’m not old,’ Flossie replied, reclining back on her lounger. ‘I thought he was quite nice. Very friendly.’
‘Perhaps he can be your “toy-boy”,’ Nina retorted, sarcastically.
‘I think he fancied you, dear, not me.’
‘Yuck. Did you see the budgie smugglers he was wearing – or barely wearing, I should say.’
‘He had a nice physique,’ her grandmother replied, then did a double-take. ‘What budgie?’
‘Not a real budgie, Gran. It’s what they call those tiny, tight swimming trunks, where it looks like the wearer has a small bird stuffed down them.’
‘How ridiculous! He was simply proud of his assets.’
‘But he was so rude,’ Nina persisted, trying to push the memory of those “assets” firmly to the back of her mind.
‘I didn’t think so. I thought he was lovely.’
‘He more or less inferred you shouldn’t be here!’ Nina’s indignation was getting the better of her. She was becoming all hot and bothered, and a trickle of sweat ran down her back.
‘He’s right, I shouldn’t.’
‘What do you mean?’ Oh god, don’t tell me Gran had thought about topping herself now she no longer had Grandad.
‘I’m the wrong age to be on this sort of holiday,’ Flossie said, ‘but then, so are you.’
Nina was flummoxed. It wasn’t a word she often used, but it suited this occasion perfectly. She was totally and utterly flummoxed – her grandmother was either speaking in riddles or was showing ever increasing signs of dementia.
‘Gran,’ she began cautiously, wondering how to broach the subject. Flossie had been acting a little strange of late, and this wasn’t the first time the D-word had flashed through Nina’s mind. Her grandmother had always been a little, what was the word? Strange, odd, a law-unto-herself? But what with smoking (Nina had never seen Flossie smoke before), the insistence on drinking alcohol at each and every opportunity, and the totally inappropriate bikini, Nina was becoming seriously worried about the old lady’s mental health.
‘It’s a thirty-to-forty-five hotel,’ Flossie said, before Nina could gather her thoughts together enough to say anything.
‘A what?’
‘This hotel is for people between the ages of thirty to forty-five.’
‘But what about Saga?’
‘Eh? Saga? No thanks! That’s a travel company for old people.’
‘You are old, Gran,’ Nina replied, automatically as she struggled to digest the information.
Flossie lit one of her vile cigarettes and blew out a contented plume of smoke. Nina waved a hand in front of her face and coughed, with some exaggeration.
‘Oh, get used to it!’ Flossie said. ‘And if you’re that bothered about it, take a walk over to the bar and see if they’re serving yet. I’m parched.’ She licked her lips in anticipation.
‘Let me see if I understand you correctly,’ Nina said slowly. ‘You’ve booked us into a hotel which caters solely for people between the ages of thirty and forty-five?’
‘Give the girl a gold star,’ was the sarcastic reply.
‘And the travel agent was happy to do that, despite the fact neither of us fall into that category?’
‘Not really. I already told you, I threatened to sue them.’
‘I thought you were joking.’ Nina let out a long sigh. ‘Can you sue over something like that?’
‘No idea, but it worked. “Athena Holidays – For the More Discerning Travel Lover”,’ Flossie quoted. ‘I thought it was more suitable than an 18–30 holiday. You’re a bit long in the tooth for that.’
‘Gran, an 18–30 holiday is a party type of hotel, where people go to drink and have… you know…’
‘Sex?’ Flossie interrupted loudly, and Nina cringed, hoping no one else had heard. ‘Yes, well, this is an older version, a more sophisticated version,’ the old woman said.
Great, that Carl bloke thought she looked at least thirty, when she was only twenty-eight! Nina closed her eyes and took a deep breath as another thought occurred to her. ‘Don’t tell me everyone here is single,’ she begged, opening them again and giving the pensioner a steely stare.
‘Okay, then I won’t.’ Flossie stubbed her cigarette out and sat up.
‘Thank god for that,’ Nina started to say, then paused. Her gran could be sneaky, so she aimed for clarification. ‘They aren’t single, or you won’t tell me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Which one, Gran?’ Nina’s patience was starting to wear very, very thin.
‘The last one.’
‘They are all single!’
‘I expect so.’
‘Why–? No, don’t bother, I’m not sure I want to know.’
Dear god – Gran and Grandad had deliberately booked a hotel where everyone was at least half their age and unattached, and where the sole purpose of that type of holiday was to hook up with as many people as possible, to have as much sex as possible. Wasn’t it? What did that make her grandparents? Voyeurs? The oldest swingers in town? Incredibly hopeful?
Nina sank back onto her sunbed with a groan. No wonder there’d not been any children at breakfast. She supposed it might be a tick in the plus box, as she searched for the positives. Being around children all day meant that by home-time she was heartily sick of the sight and the sound of them. Perhaps this mightn’t be so bad after all. It’s not as if she had to join in, or was obliged to have a holiday fling, was it?
Besides, she had Flossie with her as a chaperone; her grandmother would put even the most ardent admirer off.
As long as Nina kept herself to herself, nothing would go wrong.
Chapter 6
Someone was holding a match to Nina’s ankles and the tops of her feet. She shifted uncomfortably, coming awake with reluctance but unable to remain in the depths of slumber with a blowtorch aimed at her legs.
It took her a moment to realise the bed she was lying on was of the sun-lounger variety. The heat came from the sun itself, which had sneakily moved across the sky with the express purpose of seeking out any bit of exposed flesh it could find and burning it off her bones. Sweat trickled unpleasantly down her back, and her hair clung stickily to her neck.
It was the loud music coming from the bar on the other side of the pool which had woken her, and she lay there for a minute wishing they’d turn it down. She’d never much liked pseudo-rap (or any other kind of rap, for that matter), Adele being more to her taste, even though most of those songs were all aching hearts and lost love, and that one song, Someone Like You, was actually a bit stalkerish when you listened to the lyrics. The poor bloke she was obsessing over clearly didn’t want anything to do with her – take a hint, why don’t you.
It wasn’t just music Nina heard,
there was chanting too, and it took a second for the actual word which was being shouted to sink in – FLOSSIE! FLOSSIE! FLOSSIE!
It couldn’t be! Nina sat up, adjusted her wonky sunglasses, and peered across the sun-sparkling pool. A crowd had gathered around the pool bar, clapping in time to the chanting. In between the swaying, half-dancing bodies, Nina spotted a large, cardboard cut-out of a naked man. And there was something else, something which made her heart plummet to her feet.
Flossie was in the centre of the group, wearing a blindfold and groping around with one hand, whilst clutching an overly-large, erect, cardboard penis in the other.
Nina leapt to her feet, trying to angle her toes at her flip flops, stuff her legs into her shorts, and yank a T-shirt over her head all at the same time, as she staggered around the pool to the bar to rescue her grandmother. Lord knew what these people were doing to her!
She arrived in time to see Flossie stab the penis in the naked, hairless juncture of the cut-out’s thighs where it hung at an eye-watering angle, whip the blindfold off, and turn to her audience with a triumphant smile on her caved-in face.
Somewhere along the way, the old woman had lost her teeth.
Nina reached her grandmother’s side, just as a drink was thrust into Flossie’s hand. And it wasn’t any old drink – this one was in a glass larger than a washing up bowl, and filled to its umbrella-ed brim with lurid green liquid. Chunks of fruit swam in it like sharks in a too-small pool.
Flossie, maybe sensing her granddaughter’s intent, gulped down half the contents before Nina had a chance to take it away from her. She sidled around the back of a maniacally grinning bloke who was all teeth and bronzed skin, wearing a white polo shirt with Aphrodite Hotel Entertainment Team and his name, Mohammed, emblazoned across the front, and the old lady defiantly polished off the rest of the concoction.
‘Bloody hell, she’s a game old bird, ain’t she?’ a man standing next to Nina said.
Nina drew herself up to her full height of five foot four, and gave him a haughty glance.
Summer on the Turquoise Coast Page 4