Crappily Ever After (25 page)

each other through our mirth. The slam of a car door and a screech of tyres indicates Kasia’s pissed off departure.

‘So, what did you say to her?’ I ask Mary, when the children are settled with juice and crisps in front of
Ballamory
.

‘I just politely asked her to speak English to my kids,’ is her reply.

‘So what’s a
krowo
then?’

‘A cow,’ replies Josh. Oops, I didn’t think he was listening.

                                                           Chapter Twenty
                   

All too soon, the time comes to head off to Manchester airport for the Australian leg of the trip. With my fear of flying this is, undoubtedly, the ultimate test for me. Actually, I don’t have a fear of flying. I have a fear of crashing! Why do people say that it is flying they fear? That’s the easy bit. I work myself into a complete state of anxiety; I feel physically sick. Mike and Becky try their best to reassure me. I hate feeling like this. It’s so unfair to the others, but completely out of my control. Armed with my panic attack brown paper, I’m sitting in the aisle seat. That way I am free to bolt to the loo to throw up if need be – and it also lessens the fear of claustrophobia. The only thing worse than having to take a flight, is being penned in at the window seat. Urgh! I attempt some deep breathing exercises, resisting the urge to hyperventilate. I’ve never flown on a Jumbo before. It looks clumsy and lumbering – and incapable of taking off. Mike assures me that the bigger the plane, the less turbulence – and lets me squeeze his hand on take off. He doesn’t complain once, even though I notice that his fingers have turned purple. Becky is quiet and subdued. Like something is on her mind.

‘Is she OK? I nudge Mike, when Becky falls asleep.

‘Call from Bob,’ he whispers. ‘It’s unsettled her, been quiet all week. I don’t know if he’s hoping to get back together with her. I can’t see why else he’d call.’

‘She won’t seriously be thinking of getting back with him, Mike. No way, she loves you too much. You’re going to get married, and he was a total shit to her,’ I whisper back.

‘I know,’ he sighs, ‘she reckons he’s heard from her Mum how well she’s doing in Tenerife. He want’s her to be pining for him. Her life must seem so exciting to him now. That’s all,’ he says with finality. Subject closed.

I glance over at Becky and her eyelids flicker. I reckon she’s awake and has been listening.

No, Becky, I try to tell her telepathically. Don’t even be considering it. I ponder on this thought; what if she and Bob did get back together? Becky would have to leave. I would miss her so much. I don’t know if I’d want to continue with it, she makes it so much fun. It would be down to just Mike and me to keep the business going. I just can’t imagine it without Becky. And if they did break up, I would lose faith completely in love. I shake my head in an attempt to physically remove the thoughts. It won’t happen, so why worry?                  

After what seems like an eternity, I wake to hear the announcement that we will be shortly be arriving at Sydney airport. I shift in my seat, no longer able to feel my bottom. I’m numb all over and desperate to stretch out horizontally.

‘I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome all our passengers to Australia. The temperature in Sydney today is thirty-six degrees and sunny. Please fasten your seatbelts as we begin our descent,’ the Australian pilot says chirpily. Easy for him, he does this every day.

‘Nooo,’ I mumble. This is the worst bit. Actually, just before take-off I say that was the worst bit; on coming into land, I declare that’s the bit I hate most. Mike smiles reassuringly and offers his hand. I grip on tight, gratefully. The liar Mike is! Less turbulence in a Jumbo, my arse! He also forgot to mention there would be a four-hour stop off in Abu Dhabi to refuel. Said it was better I didn’t know there were two take-offs and two landings to worry about. He was right. It meant they got a bit of respite from my stressing. It’s actually impossible to stress constantly on such a long flight.  It’s far too exhausting. I had actually calmed down around two hours into the journey. About the same time the fourth vodka kicked in, come to think of it.

With shaking legs, I make my way to the baggage claim. All of us still smarting indignantly at having been sprayed with some kind of disinfectant on the plane. How rude! We collect our bags and head off to find a cab to take us to our hotel. Mike is exhausted with jetlag and heads off for a sleep. Becky seems a bit cheerier, so I suggest heading out into Sydney for lunch. We walk through Hyde Park to Oxford Street and find a café bar with an outside seating area. Great! I now have a chance to grill Becky about Bob. We sit down under the shade of a tree and eat our lunch of Thai noodles and two glasses of Australian white wine. The sun is glorious after the chill of Scotland. Australian summertime: how strange and un-Christmassy. On the way to the bar Becky and I had laughed at the Christmas cards with snow and robins, that we saw in shop windows. Why would Australians choose to send those to each other? We decided to ask a passing Aussie. He had no idea, but said they always had done.                                 

I wait until after we have finished lunch and then tentatively approach the subject of Bob.

‘So, Mike says you had a random caller the other day.’

Becky screws her face up.

 ‘Yes, Bob called. Wanted to see how I was.’

‘And how did Mike take it?’

‘Oh, fine, I guess. He was a bit weird though. He wants to come out to Tenerife to visit us soon, maybe in January.’

‘And do you think that’s a good idea?’ I enquire.

‘God, I don’t know,’ Becky shakes her head sadly, putting down her chopsticks, ‘I mean, I thought I was totally over him, but I’m not so sure any more.’

‘You’re not thinking of taking him back, are you?’

The very thought leaves me aghast, and not just because it will end in tears and two months of soup-making duties – again. I feel really bad for poor Mike. Dumped by Sam, and now possibly by Becky too. He deserves better.

‘I really don’t know, Lucy,’ Becky looks pained. ‘I honestly can’t say I don’t want to. That would be a lie.’ She looks down at her hands in her lap. ‘It would kill me to leave Mike, but I don’t know if I want to be with him anymore.’

Good God no! It’s the worst-case scenario.

So, until Becky makes her decision, I am left stuck between a rock and a hard place. I care about both of them. I don’t want to worry Mike in case this is just a blip and things settle down when we get back to Tenerife. I do my best to constantly remind Becky what a shit Bob was to her, and how he didn’t care about her feelings when he broke it off. His work fling didn’t last. He wanted a bit of excitement as he had felt he and Becky were stagnating. He quickly realised he had nothing in common with this other girl, out- with the sheets, and woke up to the terrible mistake he’d made.

‘He would do it again,’ I reiterated over and over. Hoping some of it may stick in her brain. I try my best to have a good time. Becky cheers up and Mike is seemingly oblivious to the dilemma in her head. We visit Circular Quay, Coogee, Bondi, Manly and Palm beaches. We climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge and explore the markets around the Rocks area of the city.

 ‘We have definitely got to come here again,’ Mike says to both of us. Becky and I exchange a look. Will there be a next time? I know it’s what we are both thinking. I decide to head off to Adelaide for the last week and let them have some space. Maybe without me around, Becky will rediscover what she loves about Mike and we can all live happily ever after.                  

I have the most amazing time in Adelaide. I love Australia, the climate, the laid back people, the food, everything.
I
will definitely be back. The space Becky and Mike had last week seems to have helped their cause a bit. I notice this when I meet up with them for the flight back to Tenerife. This was just what I needed – proper time off without worrying about anyone else. I’m sure that once we get back Becky will be fine. She’ll be too busy even to think of Bob. I had stayed with Emily’s sister in Adelaide for the week I left the other two. It was hard to imagine someone louder and more over the top than Em, but Kate surpassed her by far. We had a great week of going to bars, eating out and, for the last night, a traditional Aussie Barbie. I even managed to get some interest from a cute surfer called Jude.

‘Jude the dude,’ I laughed, when he introduced himself.

‘Hey! I never thought of that, man,’ he snorts with laughter. Hmm, perhaps he’s been caught in a few too many rip tides. Jude is heading off to backpack around the world in three months and is looking for a bit of bar work over next summer. So, it wasn’t my dazzling good looks he was interested in after all. Not that I’m interested. I’m off men. I give him my email address and hope he doesn’t contact me.

One Manuel-type per restaurant is quite enough, thank you. Poor Gino, bless him. Still hasn’t quite got used to the combination of Scottish and Irish accents, and no longer has Nick to translate. He spends most of his time looking blankly at us when we ask him to do something.                              

We arrive back at Sydney airport, running late due to traffic. I head towards the bar. I have never once flown without at least two drinks in me. Becky grabs my arm and drags me towards check-in. We make it. In fact, there were actually a spare two minutes. It was a horrible journey, just horrible. The most horrendous turbulence I have ever encountered. I used the panic bag twice

and asked four times,

‘What’s that noise?’ and ‘should that wing be wobbling like that?’ or similar. But I didn’t throw up at all. By the time we land on mainland Spain for our connecting flight, I was a nervous wreck.

After what feels like forever, we are making our way back to our restaurant. Bliss! Tomorrow we have a day off. Pablo and his wife have been in to clean and have placed the food and drinks orders. Wonderful people they are. I may have to give Pablo a hefty Christmas bonus. We get ready to go out for dinner. Mike heads off for a shower. I wander past Becky and Mike’s bedroom on my way to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. I pause outside, about to knock and ask Becky if she would like one. I can hear her muffled voice through the door, arguing with someone on the phone. I would never normally listen, but when I hear,

‘No, Bob, please listen,’ I feel I have no choice. I’m sure she’s not telling me everything. ‘Look Bob, I can’t come home before Christmas, It’s going to be so busy. I owe it to Mike and Lucy to help out. Yes, of course I’m sleeping in the spare room now. I told you I’d ended things with Mike. You just need to wait ‘til January and I’ll be home. I’ve already booked the flight. You know that, you were with me.’

A few short sentences, but already I’ve heard enough to know exactly what‘s going on. When? She was in Aberdeen with Mike before Australia – she didn’t even go home to Ireland. How could he have been with her when she booked the flight home? I turn to walk away.

‘She went to spend a night with her “Great Aunt” in Stonehaven.’

 I turn to see a dejected-looking Mike, towel round his waist and hair sticking up at funny angles. A small puddle of shower water is collecting at his feet. He has been listening too.

‘You read my mind,’ I say sadly, shaking my head. ‘I’m so sorry Mike. What are you going to do?’

‘Let her go,’ he shrugs, ‘just let her go.’ He gives me a sad little smile, walks into the bedroom and closes the door.                        

Two hours on and there’s quite a bit of shouting from Mike and Becky’s room. Actually, it’s from Becky and, surprisingly, not Mike. He seems to have resigned himself to it all. I try hard not to listen and even turn the TV up as loud as I can bear it, but still the unmistakable, panic-stricken voice of Becky is all I can hear. She is persuading Mike to let her stay; she can’t let me down. I don’t hear what Mike says but Becky’s hysterical reply of:

‘Yes, Mike. I’m sorry, but it is what I want, I just don’t want to let you and Lucy down at a busy time of the year,’ gives me an inkling that he had asked if she really wanted them to be over. Eventually, Mike helps a very tearful-looking Becky down the stairs with her bags. She looks at me, ashamed. I walk over and give her a hug. The floodgates open.

‘I’m so sorry, Lucy,’ she bawls tears and snot onto my shoulder.

‘Shh-shh,’ I soothe. ‘Look, you keep in touch, OK? I want to know how you’re doing. I do hope it works out Becks, but I’m always here for you no matter what. We’re friends first, OK? We just happen to work together. That’s not what binds us together.’

She nods, sniffs and glances over at Mike, pleading forgiveness with her eyes. He looks away, resting his chin on his hand and swirling the remains of a pint around his glass. What did she expect really? I walk Becky to the taxi to wave her off.

‘I mean it,’ I tell her, ‘keep in touch. Don’t forget, you and I were friends before Mike. I’m not going to hold this against you.’

‘But the restaurant, I’m really letting you down.’

‘It’s fine, Becky,’ I reassure her, ‘people leave jobs all the time. It makes no difference to our friendship.’ Becky sniffs and pulls me to her. There is desperation in the hug.