Then Jody says, ‘Isn’t that your friends?’
Sam rubs his eyes, leans forward and spots Trevor Smug and his wife wheeling a trolley in their direction.
‘Oh, ff–’
‘Ssh. They weren’t that bad, were they?’
Sam pulls a face. ‘Really up ’emselves.’
‘Did they say where they’re staying?’
‘I didn’t ask. Won’t be at ours, though. We’re only three star.’
Jody looks hurt. ‘Don’t say “only”. On TripAdvisor it’s voted the number two hotel in our resort.’
‘I know. But a bloke like that’ll want number one.’
The middle-aged couple climb aboard with a lot of huffing and puffing, making it plain that they’re furious about the ‘disgraceful inefficiency’ of the airport. Both of them notice Sam but pretend they haven’t, dropping their gaze as they shuffle into the nearest available seats. Jody wonders if they resent the fact that she and Sam made it on to the coach ahead of them.
Thankfully a Sheldon rep turns up, introduces herself as ‘Gabby’ and announces, to a few sarcastic cheers, that their departure is imminent. She sounds friendly and enthusiastic, speaking in a warm accent that Jody thinks might be from Leicester or somewhere like that. After running through a quick headcount, Gabby signals to the driver who shuts the door and eases the coach on to the access road.
Before settling back, Jody conducts a quick ‘family assessment’. Grace has her head against the window and is almost dozing. Sam, bless him, has come back to life and is earnestly discussing missiles and tanks with Dylan. Now Jody can stare straight ahead and focus on nothing...
Except the rep, Gabby, is coming along the aisle, summoned by the middle-aged grumps. She’s in her early twenties, pretty in an over-made-up way. Long blonde hair in a side parting, which swirls as she turns her head, resting in a spray on her shoulder. She’s wearing the Sheldon uniform of a patterned shirt (white with red and blue palm trees) and a plain blue pencil skirt; nothing particularly fashionable, but close-fitting enough to see that she has a very good body.
It can’t have escaped Sam’s attention, either, and yet he doesn’t seem to give the woman more than the briefest of glances.
The middle-aged couple start to protest about the time it took to retrieve their luggage. The man appears to be talking directly to the rep’s chest. She seems well aware of this, leaning closer as if to make it easier for him to perv. Within seconds he’s nodding and smiling, thank you for listening, not your fault at all, blah blah blah...
Jody sighs, hoping Sam is right about their choice of hotel.
4
The five-star resort is their first stop, about twenty minutes in, and the only people to disembark are two elderly women in large sunhats. Sam starts to think he’s tempted fate.
Another ten minutes till the next stop, then two more in quick succession, by which time there are only three groups left on the coach, including the Smugs and Sam and Jody.
‘Okay,’ says the rep, ‘Adriana Beach is next, and then the Sunrise is our last drop-off today.’
Jody beams at him. ‘Us next, thank God.’
On the first part of the journey they learned a bit about the island – though it was a struggle to stop Dylan from talking over the rep. It’s sixty kilometres end to end and fifteen kilometres at the widest point, the second largest of some twenty-odd islands in a… here the rep used a word that sounded like ‘archie-pele-go’; then she giggled and admitted she could never pronounce it properly.
The part they’re in is the south-west corner, which has some of the best beaches and the larger resorts. The island is notable for its limestone, olive trees and pine forests. Other than that it’s mostly the scrubland he noticed as the plane came down. Small trees and rocks, a lot of mud and dust: nothing like the rich greens and rolling hills of Sussex.
Still, it’s the beaches that matter. And the climate. Gabby jokingly agreed to guarantee them temperatures of around thirty degrees over the next week, no rain unless they’re really unlucky – ‘Even then it’s likely to be a quick thunderstorm at night; the lightning’s incredible here sometimes!’
There’s a bit of history, stuff like when the island was first inhabited, and then Sam has to focus on keeping Dylan distracted, pointing out of the window at the rocky landscape and wondering if there could be any soldiers hiding out there.
‘Are there, Dad?’
‘Might be. This is probably the kind of place they use for training.’
‘Oh, wow!’ Dylan gets up on his knees, nose pressed against the glass. Jody goes to say something but Sam shakes his head. He’s just bought them some peace and quiet – not to be sniffed at, now the Haribos have gone.
Jody’s first impression of the hotel is far from encouraging. After driving past an orchard of sickly looking trees, they see a sign for the Adriana Beach and take a sharp turn into the approach road. The grounds are fenced off with barbed wire, enclosing yet more scrubland. They pass a dilapidated building that resembles a lock-up garage. The area around it is strewn with discarded equipment: rusting patio umbrellas and broken sun loungers; a coil of red hose pipe like a sleeping snake.
Then over a slight ridge, and the main building comes into sight. Five storeys high, dull grey in colour, at first it reminds Jody of a block of council flats. This isn’t a view that appeared on the website. Her whole body seems to crumple with disappointment, not just for herself but because she’s anticipating how Sam will react.
Gabby the rep is leaning forward in her seat, murmuring to the driver. Jody wonders what the woman will do if they refuse to get off the coach. This isn’t good enough. We paid a lot of money and we deserve something better.
Jody’s mouth goes dry as she imagines saying the words. If a complaint is needed, she knows she will be the one to make it. Sam has no stomach for dealing with authority, even in the form of a holiday rep barely out of her teens.
Earlier, when Gabby invited questions at the end of her introduction, there was some general grumbling about the chaos in baggage reclaim. Then a woman asked about the landing. Gabby didn’t seem to understand the question, and a man with a strong Lancashire accent chipped in: ‘No problems with our flight.’
‘This was from Gatwick,’ the woman said. ‘Third year running we’ve come here, and today we’re all set to land when the plane suddenly swerves and goes round to the far end of the runway. I think it was because a private jet had come past and got permission to land before us.’
‘Overtook you, like?’ the Lancastrian joked, and someone else muttered, ‘Boy racers!’
Gabby continued to look baffled. ‘I’m sure there was never any danger, but I’ll see if I can find out any more...’ The way she trailed off made Jody think she wouldn’t be trying too hard.
Now, taking a deep breath, Jody summons the strength for what might be a vigorous argument. Then a gasp from her daughter: ‘I saw the pool!’
‘What?’
‘Between the buildings. It looks really nice!’
The coach eases into a layby directly outside the hotel entrance. Hanging baskets offer a splash of colour, and there are potted palm trees spaced at intervals like a guard of honour. Jody can see movement within the lobby: a waiter carrying drinks on a tray. She spots a long bar glinting with optics, comfortable sofas and attractive lighting. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but she decides not to say anything, at least until they’ve had a look around.