They worked bloody hard to save for this holiday. It cost them more than they could afford, to be honest, but now it’s done, and whether they enjoy it or not is pretty much in their own hands. So either he goes on fretting, ruining it for himself and probably for his family as well… or else he puts his worries aside and focuses on having a good time.
He pulls Jody into his arms, and when they’re squashed up together, he says, ‘Sorry I’ve been such a dick. You were right.’
‘Was I?’
‘Yeah. We need this, don’t we? A proper break.’
He kisses her on the cheek, then on the lips. The kids are peeking out of the alcove, and seeing this embrace through their eyes, Sam is aware that he doesn’t have a single memory of his own mum and dad like this: cuddling, laughing, showing affection for one another.
5
The blinds are opened to reveal a sliding glass door that leads to a small patio area, divided from its neighbours by a low wall on each side. There’s a table and two chairs, and a lovely view across the manicured gardens to the nearest of the three pools, less than fifty metres away.
The en-suite bathroom doesn’t have a bath, just a complicated-looking shower, but the room is large and clean, with plenty of space in the cabinet for their toiletries. Jody is inclined to get started on the unpacking, but she can’t find it in her heart to disagree when Dylan insists they should go straight to the pool.
She changes into her new bikini, excited but also apprehensive about how she’ll compare to everyone else around the pool. At least they all have plenty of new clothes, courtesy of her mum. A few weeks ago she admitted that she’d been saving up, secretly, on Jody’s behalf. Two hundred pounds, which she, her mum and Grace had spent in Primark, New Look and TK Maxx during a fantastic girls’ day out in Crawley.
She hadn’t told Sam about the windfall until afterwards, when she showed him the chinos, shorts and T-shirts she’d bought him. His reaction was oddly subdued; not ungrateful or angry, not going on about all the practical things they could have got with the money. Instead he’d sunk into one of his moody silences for a day or so.
But he wolf whistles when she emerges from the bathroom, which almost makes her blush.
‘Don’t. Is it all right?’
‘You look great.’
‘You really do, Mum,’ Grace adds, as if she already knows that a partner’s verdict can’t be taken at face value.
‘My thighs, though...’
Sam shakes his head. ‘Don’t be silly.’
His turn in the bathroom. He changes into a pair of swimming shorts and a Brighton & Hove Albion shirt. She’d prefer him to wear one of his new tops but it’s not something to make a fuss about. At twenty-six Sam still has quite a narrow, boyish frame, but his job as a painter and decorator has given him good muscle tone. The sight of his pale spindly legs makes her smile, though – as does the fact that he’s left his socks on.
He bends over and hooks a sock with his thumb, flicking it off in her direction while giving her a knowing look. Later, he’s saying, and the thought makes her stomach muscles clench for a second.
I’ll ask him tonight, when we’re in bed.
Before they head out, she insists on slathering them with sun cream. ‘No one’s going home burnt, and that’s a promise.’
It’s nearly three o’clock when they step outside. They collect swimming towels from a cabin by the pool, then find a group of unclaimed sun loungers and make camp beneath a couple of umbrellas. Sam accompanies the kids to the pool while Jody adjusts the lounger to sit up and watch them.
She lets out a brisk sigh, as if to say, Right, what’s next? And realises the answer is: Nothing. After all the packing and preparing, it’s a difficult transition to make. For weeks she’s been carrying a mental checklist inside her head, and now it’s complete. There is literally nothing she has to do. Nothing but relax.
That thought brings a tremor of doubt. Can she still remember how?
Sam’s never been one for swimming, although he and Jody regularly take the kids to the local pool. Grace is already a confident swimmer, and Dylan is fearless even when he’s floundering. To stay afloat he kicks and thrashes, never minding if his head goes under and he catches a mouthful of water: he just spits it out, laughs, and starts again.
From the safety of the pool, Sam studies his fellow holidaymakers, hoping for pointers as to how he and Jody can blend in. There seems to be quite a mixed bag: young couples and family groups and a few older people. No one’s wearing much, which adds to the challenge of guessing nationalities. What he takes to be the Germans (maybe Danish or Swedish as well) seem more evenly tanned, with better skin. The men have longer hair and wear rings and necklaces and dodgy sandals, while the women are more likely to be fit – elegant, perhaps, is a better word, even when they’re only wearing a few scraps of fabric.
The Brits, on the whole, are paler, flabbier, and have far more tattoos – his own are pretty understated compared to some – although there’s one guy with a massive white gut, a shaved head and ink all over his arms and chest who, when he calls to his wife at the bar, turns out to be Russian or something. Sam had him down as a solid Essex geezer.
Lots of people are smoking, and the drifting aroma of tobacco makes him dizzy with longing. He set out to quit nearly two years ago, channelling the money into their holiday fund, and since then he’s only lapsed on a handful of occasions, but it’s going to be much harder to resist temptation in a country where smoking isn’t banned – or even disapproved of, by the look of it.
Once he’s got out and towelled off, and the kids have announced that they’re starving, Sam volunteers to investigate what’s on offer at the pool bar. He’s happy to go alone but the other three tag along, curious to experience what all-inclusive really means.
The bar is staffed by two young guys, dark-skinned and cocky in a way that doesn’t rile Sam like it would at home. They’re serving a man who’s ordered a load of complicated-looking cocktails, and knocking back a beer while he waits. At one end there’s a glass cabinet with fresh fruit, pastries and various filled rolls, then a chest freezer with three flavours of ice cream. And it’s self-service, which the kids cotton on to with broad smiles.
‘So we can get ice cream whenever we want?’ Grace asks.
Jody shakes her head. ‘Only when Dad or I agree. Otherwise you’ll burst.’ A negotiation follows, the deal being that they can have ice cream now, as long as they choose a roll and some fruit to eat afterwards. ‘Back to front, but what the hell?’ she says to Sam.
While they’re sorting the food, he orders drinks. Out of habit he reaches into his pocket, then remembers and lifts his wristband into view, although the barman seems uninterested. Even so, Sam can’t help patting the empty pocket of his swimming shorts, still a bit doubtful that he’ll be given the drinks and not asked for money in return.
But that’s what happens, and it’s weird in a nice way. After a happy little picnic, Jody makes the kids play games for ten minutes, then she takes them for a swim. Sam stays where he is, feeling pleasantly full and lazy. He admires Jody’s body as she walks across the paved area around the pool – only that causes a stirring, so he switches his attention to a large group wandering across from the direction of the restaurant, chatting and laughing together. He counts four couples and eight or nine children. It makes him think of his own extended family, and how they would never come away together like this – not even if someone won big on the lottery.