Kay shakes her head in a dismissive way. ‘We may rent a jeep to explore the island. We prefer to go alone.’
With obvious reluctance, Sam turns towards them. Only now does Trevor’s face light up. ‘Who’s this?’ he says, and rears back, his mouth gaping open in a silent, terrified scream. ‘That reverse thrust can really catch you out, eh?’
Jody freezes inside, while Sam issues a pretend chuckle. ‘I haven’t flown before,’ he says.
‘Genuinely?’ Kay couldn’t sound more shocked if Sam had just announced that he used to be a woman. Fortunately Dylan chooses this moment to contribute, using a forearm to wipe off his Coke moustache before declaring: ‘We’re gonna see doll-things!’
‘Dolphins,’ Grace corrects him.
‘Oh, how lovely for you!’ Kay gushes, overdoing the enthusiasm.
‘Just remember they can’t guarantee the creatures will make an appearance,’ Trevor cautions. ‘If they don’t, all you’ve done is paid to look at the sea!’ And he guffaws, seemingly oblivious to the hurt he might have caused.
His wife is slightly more perceptive. ‘I’m sure you will see some,’ she says. ‘And we’re all entered into the prize draw, of course.’
Sam gives a snort. ‘Dunno why they think we’d want to go off to some other hotel, when this one’s got all we need.’
The Baxters look at him as though he has duly met their low expectations. After a moment, Trevor says, ‘The Conchis has an extraordinary reputation – though granted it’s not for everyone. Horses for courses and all that.’
By now Sam’s got a scowl so fierce you could toast bread from it. Jody puts on a big fake smile and says, ‘It’s been lovely to meet you, but we need to go and feed these two hungry kids.’
‘Three,’ says Sam, and unexpectedly gets a laugh. ‘I’m starving.’
‘What a couple of total–’
‘Mm. No need to say it.’
Sam checks the kids aren’t listening too closely before imitating Trevor’s deep and phlegmy voice: ‘“Not for everyone.” Not for the chavs, that’s what he means.’
Jody glares at him. In their house there are two forbidden c-words. Fortunately the sight of the restaurant brings an end to the conversation. It’s a vast room with dozens of tables and a serving area in the middle. While they’re taking it in, a senior-looking man in a grey waistcoat approaches and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Your first night?’
Jody nods. ‘Yes.’
The head waiter, or whatever he is, goes on staring at Sam. ‘For the evening our dress code is for trousers. Smart clothes. But as it is your first night...’ He winks at Grace. ‘Come, I find you a table.’
Sam feels about six years old as he’s led across the room and seated next to a pillar that hides them from most of the people nearby. The head waiter takes their order for drinks, then explains that they can simply help themselves to whatever they like. ‘Enjoy,’ he commands, and Sam isn’t sure whether he detects a certain bitterness.
It’s probably not necessary, but now they’ve been allocated a table, Sam doesn’t like the idea of leaving it unattended, so he and Grace wait while Jody and Dylan go off.
‘You’ve been really good today,’ Sam tells Grace. ‘Thanks.’
She shrugs. Although pale and tired, she still looks extraordinarily pretty and grown-up. Sam can’t ever quite believe that he’s allowed to take any credit for how she’s turning out.
‘It seems really nice here, but... I dunno. I’m not as excited as I thought I’d be.’
‘Probably because we were up so early. A good night’s sleep will help.’
Jody and Dylan are back sooner than he expected. He peers at Jody’s plate: a bit of salad, a bread roll, something that might be fish.
‘That’s hardly anything.’
‘It’s my starter. I’m going back for more, and so are you.’
He’d forgotten about having different courses. On the rare occasion they eat out, it’s usually a pizza, a burger, a curry. But she’s right – even if he’s not feeling particularly hungry, he ought to make the most of it.
He and Grace find where the plates are stacked, then choose some food. In the centre of the room it’s very noisy, with the constant sharp clatter of crockery and steel echoing off the tiled floor. He discovers that you have to be on your toes, dodging through a busy stream of kitchen staff collecting empty trays and bringing fresh ones. And some of the other diners are a pain: it isn’t all good manners and ‘After you, my dear chap,’ but sharp elbows and an urgent every-man-for-himself attitude, as though they’re competing for the food instead of sharing far more than they could ever eat.
In fact, both the choice and the sheer amount of it is staggering. Sam wonders how much is wasted. Do the staff get to take the food home to their families? And how would that feel, night after night, eating the lukewarm leftovers of the rich?
The rich. It shocks Sam to include himself in that category, but here it’s true. He’s sensed it already in some of the looks he’s had from the waiters – a mix of fear and respect, envy and contempt that he knows all too well. My job depends on you, but don’t expect me to grovel.
Jody had fears about the quality of the food, given the challenge of catering on such an enormous scale, but it turns out to be delicious. And the beauty of this system is that you can sample several dishes, then go back for more of what you like best.
Not tonight, though. They’re simply too tired to overindulge.
Outside, they get lost on the way back to the room, but it turns into a lovely experience, wandering around the main part of the hotel complex. It’s dark now, and the buildings and even many of the flower beds are floodlit in warm colours. The air is rich with fruity, unfamiliar blossoms and the heat, which is still noticeable but no longer oppressive, adds to it a taste like burnt sugar. The only disappointment is a sign forbidding use of the pools at night. In Jody’s view this would be the perfect time for a swim.
By the main pool they discover a thriving bar area with twenty-five or thirty tables, nearly all of them occupied. The focus is on a makeshift auditorium at one end, where a young man is playing what sounds like traditional music on a violin. Not the sort of thing they’d normally go for – the kids especially – but in this setting it’s an enchanting sound.
They all stop to listen, and Sam gestures at the bar. ‘We could get a drink.’
She looks at the children, who actually seem to have revived a bit. It’s Jody who is ready to drop. ‘Do you mind if we don’t?’
Back in the room, they take it in turns to use the bathroom. The kids investigate the TV, but all they find is an ancient episode of The Simpsons, dubbed into some incomprehensible language. Grace reads for a while, and Dylan is allowed to play games on Jody’s phone. At nine o’clock it’s lights out for that end of the room, and within minutes they’re both sparko.
Thirty seconds later, Jody and Sam are in bed, too. The air-conditioning’s up high and it’s cooled the room enough for them to snuggle together without discomfort. They laugh about how early it is, bemoaning their own lack of energy. Sam says he’s as tired as if he’d spent the day painting ceilings.