Holiday Fling Read online

‘No, seriously, David. I’m fine. I just need some time alone to think about stuff … I’ll be OK. I’ll see you later.’

  I watched him walk away, head down, shoulders hunched, once again probably unaware of what he’d done or said to upset me … I sighed. It really wasn’t going anywhere, was it? Such a shame …

  I wandered into the village, through the maze of hilly narrow streets, looking in tiny shop windows, marvelling at the lilac tinge of the sky over the pewter sea as the sun set, and eventually finding peace.

  It was growing dusk by the time I felt calm enough to return to the hotel, but I’d done a lot of thinking. I’d been lazy in my relationship with David, I knew that. I had never pushed for supremacy or tried too hard to change things because we got on well together, and I honestly enjoyed being with him and didn’t want to lose him. And if it was, as my mum kept saying, the oddest relationship she’d ever known, it had suited me fine. Until now.

  Always, in the back of my mind, was The Grand Passion. How or when this was going to happen was never clear, but I just knew it would. It would arrive with full celestial trumpets, cascades of rose-petals, and silver moonlight. Exactly like it did in the novels I adored.

  ‘Oh! Sorry! Are you OK?’

  Lost in my abstraction I’d cannoned straight into someone.

  I nodded. ‘Yes, yes – it was my fault anyway. I wasn’t looking where I was going … Sorry …’ I looked up into concerned grey eyes. ‘Oh …’

  He grinned, crinkling the grey eyes. ‘I was daydreaming, too. I was admiring the light over the sea. I love this time of the evening – the light and the shadows never fail to inspire me.’

  ‘Inspire?’ I leapt on the word. ‘Are you a writer?’

  He shook his head so that the sun-bleached layers of hair feathered over his forehead, and laughed. ‘No. I paint. Nothing exceptional. I’m a bit of a tourist-dauber, really. The holidaymakers love a locally-painted landscape to take home.’

  Wow, I thought. An artist … A kindred spirit … ‘And you live here?’

  He nodded. ‘Born and bred. I love this place.’ He fell into step beside me. ‘Are you here on holiday?’

  As we walked, I told him about the holiday, and where I was staying, and about my job as a florist, and then about David and his mother – and probably far too much, really. I never know when to stop talking, and I so needed to let off steam to someone. And who better than a total stranger I’d never see again?

  ‘I’m Matt Weston,’ he grinned at me when I finally ran out of puff. ‘And we’ve nearly reached your hotel.’

  ‘Louisa Farr. And thanks for walking back with me. And for listening.’

  ‘My pleasure.’ The grey eyes danced wickedly. ‘I’m a good listener. Maybe I’ll see you around …’

  I crept quietly into the suite, but not quietly enough. David’s mother woke up and grizzled, then she wanted the windows and balcony doors tightly closed, and when she did go to sleep she snored, stole the duvet, and took up all but six inches of the queen-sized bed. I lay awake for ages, holding myself away from Her, unable to read my book in case it woke Her up, not even bothering to switch on my e-reader. Through the archway I could just see David’s humped form looking unhappily alone in his little single bed. At least he didn’t snore …

  I eventually went to sleep and dreamed of crashing black waves and laughing grey eyes and sun-bleached hair, and woke to a clear blue sky and golden sunshine. David and his mother weren’t in the suite and I presumed they’d already gone down to breakfast without waking me. It didn’t bode well …

  I found them in the restaurant, both looking very unhappy. I sighed as I poured myself a coffee and buttered a slice of toast. This was going to be another awful day …

  It was. David hardly spoke to me, not that I could blame him really. David’s mother whined a lot. She wanted to go shopping but when we walked miserably into the village she declared the shops ‘rubbish’. Lunch gave her indigestion; dinner was just this side of food poisoning; then she wanted to play bingo and sulked when she couldn’t.

  I must admit that I’d spent the day trailing between David and his mother, trying to ignore the simmering atmosphere that was rising to the surface like bile, hoping for another glimpse of those wicked grey eyes … But Matt Weston was nowhere to be seen.

  We all retired to our suite after a silent dinner and several equally silent drinks for a miserable repeat performance of the previous night. I curled unhappily in the darkness and really, really wanted to go home.

  However, the next day dawned hotter and sunnier and it sent my spirits soaring. I would try to be a nice person today, I promised myself. I really would …

  ‘I’m going down to the beach,’ I announced over breakfast. ‘I’ve got a great book to read and it’s such a fabulous day …’

  ‘You really are so selfish, Louisa,’ David’s mother snapped. ‘I want David to take me into the nearest town so I can go shopping. Proper shopping. I don’t want to sit around on a beach getting sand in everything and being splattered by seagull poo. This is my holiday too, you know.’

  David looked at me imploringly, but I refused to budge. David’s mother grabbed her handbag and stomped angrily from the restaurant.

  ‘Oh, not again …’ David sighed. ‘I’d better go after her. Are you coming?’

  ‘David,’ I said evenly. ‘You can take your mother shopping until midnight if you wish and if it makes you both happy. I’ll be on the beach if you want me …’

  And I walked from the restaurant with my head held high, knowing that every other diner had been watching the whole thing with avid interest.

  The little cove with its fine silver sand and scattering of black rocks was practically deserted, and the towering cliffs formed a natural windbreak. It was gloriously hot, and I sat on my beach towel, knees drawn up to my chin, letting the sun warm the bits my lilac bikini didn’t cover, thinking deeply murderous thoughts. My copy of Frenchman’s Creek went unread.

  A tall shadow fell across me and I tensed but didn’t look up. ‘I’m sorry, but if you’ve come to try and make me change my mind, you’ve had a wasted journey. I’m perfectly happy here and I don’t want to go shopping. I thought you’d be on the third floor of Marks and Spencer at least by now. I’m fine here, thank you, so you can just go back to your mother …’

  ‘Tricky,’ he said. ‘She happens to be in Canada.’

  ‘What?’ I looked up into a pair of laughing grey eyes and blushed all over. ‘Oh, sorry – I thought … Um – well – I thought …’

  Matt Weston, all suntan and faded denim, chuckled and dropped down beside me. ‘Morning, Louisa. Was I interrupting some private debate there?’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said brightly, trying not to stare too much at his gorgeousness. ‘Nothing so mundane. I’d just been working out the best way to murder David’s mother.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Matt grinned. ‘That’s an easy one.’

  ‘Is it?’ I turned to look at him. ‘What do you suggest? Arsenic in her morning coffee? Strangulation with one of her gazillion silk scarves? An unfortunate little accident on the cliff path?’

  ‘Nothing so grisly.’ Matt laughed. He really did have a great laugh. ‘It’s very simple. Just tell her you’re going to marry David.’

  ‘What?’ I stared at him. ‘Marry David? I can’t marry David!’

  ‘Why not?’ Matt gave me the full force of the sexy grey eyes. ‘His mother will probably have an apoplexy when she hears the news – and voila! All your problems sorted in one go and no blame attached.’

  I giggled. ‘You really don’t know me and David. We’re not – well – we’re just not the marrying kind. And anyway, David loves his mother. He’d be devastated. I wouldn’t want to kill her really …’

  ‘I do know that,’ Matt grinned. ‘I was just playing the game. Anyway, it’s made you smile – and you’re very pretty when you smile … And – oh – er – actually, I’d better be off now …’ he stood up quickly. ‘That’s m
y tribe up there.’

  I followed his eyes to the top of the cliff steps where a blonde woman with a swarm of children was scouring the beach.

  ‘You’re married?’

  Matt nodded, already looking agitated. ‘That’s why I said you should marry David. I recommend it all my friends. I’d be nowhere without Jess. She works hard to support me, the penniless feckless artist. She’s one in a million, is Jess.’

  After he’d gone, I sat there open-mouthed. So much for my starry-eyed dreams! Just because Matt Weston had wickedly sexy eyes and enthused over sunsets, and was an artist, I’d thought he’d walked out of the pages of a romantic novel just for me! And in reality he was just another chancer … How pathetic! I groaned at my stupidity. Maybe I was destined to be an old maid and live alone with cats. Maybe The Grand Passion simply didn’t exist.

  I picked up Frenchman’s Creek with a sigh.

  ‘Good book?’ David looked down at me.

  ‘Very.’ I hadn’t heard him coming across the sand and looked over his shoulder for his mother, but he was alone. ‘I’m really enjoying it.’

  ‘You must be,’ David squatted beside me and gently removed the book from my hands. ‘You’ve got it upside down.’

  ‘I know,’ I grabbed the book back from him. ‘I prefer it that way.

  David laughed. ‘Louisa, you’re crazy.’ He sat beside me. ‘What a fabulous beach. And it’s scorching – have you been in the water yet?’

  ‘Not yet. And there’s no need to make small talk. Where’s your mother?’

  David wriggled out of his chinos and polo shirt and my eyes widened. He had a spectacularly fit body and was wearing a very un-accountant-like pair of Bermuda shorts in hot pink and lime green.

  ‘Where on earth did you get those?’

  ‘Like them?’ David grinned.

  ‘I love them,’ I smiled. ‘But they’re a bit – er – unexpected.’

  ‘Yes, well, I thought I ought to buy something on the dreaded shopping trip. So this is the holiday me. I knew I had to lighten up a bit or I might lose you to one of those sun-bronzed surfers or something – and I’d hate that.’

  I had the grace to blush. ‘David – I’m sorry. I’ve behaved badly. Very badly.’

  ‘I think we all have,’ he leaned over and pushed my hair gently behind my ears. ‘I know how much you were looking forward to this holiday … I should never have mentioned it to Mum. It was never going to work out … Oh, and by the way, she’s packing.’

  ‘Packing?’ I yelped. ‘As in …?’

  ‘Going home, yes. We talked a lot on the shopping trip, and I said things I should have said a long time ago. Anyway, she’s decided that we – you and me – need time alone and that as this place isn’t a patch on Lanzarote or Benidorm – apparently – she’s more than happy to leave us to it. I’ve bought her a ticket. She’s catching the 3.30 train.’

  I gulped. Well … Who’d have thought? ‘You mean you’re not driving her home?’

  ‘No,’ David let the silver sand trickle through his fingers. ‘This is our holiday and I don't intend to waste any more of it away from you. I let her emotionally blackmail me into bringing her along … I was wrong to do that, I’ll admit it now. She can always make me feel guilty and I gave in to her when I should have said no. I’ve regretted it ever since …’

  ‘Is that an apology?’

  ‘Yes,’ David sighed. Sorry, Lou. I’ve been one massive idiot.’

  I laughed. ‘No you haven’t. You’ve been your lovely caring self. The fact that me and your mum will probably never get on is a shame, but you tried your best to make us both happy. And I should apologise too. I’ve been childish and rude and behaved very badly – but I was so looking forward to spending some time alone with you at last …’

  I stopped, amazed by own words. I meant it. I really meant it. What on earth was happening to me?

  David hauled me to my feet. ‘Ok, we’ve both apologised – oh, and there’s something else I have to tell you. When we get back to the hotel, we’ll have to pack, too.’

  ‘What? Nooo! We’re not leaving?’

  David pulled me into his arms and kissed the tip of my nose. ‘No, of course not. But the hotel has had a cancellation in one of their double seaview rooms, so with mum out of the way, they can use the family suite and they thought we’d be better suited in a new room…’

  I laughed delightedly. ‘A new double room… for just the two of us?’

  ‘Just the two of us,’ David nodded. ‘As it should have been right from the start.’

  I kissed him then, and he kissed me back and it all got very steamy indeed.

  ‘Wow,’ he said eventually, looking down at me. ‘Just wow. And maybe we ought to go and cool off before we get too carried away in public … Come on, dreamer, race you to the sea!’

  And hand-in-hand we ran across the white-hot beach, laughing like children.

  Just supposing Grand Passions didn’t strike like thunderbolts, I thought, dizzily. Could they, maybe, just develop slowly and quietly, and grow?

  I smiled happily at David as the Atlantic breakers curled round our feet. I thought they probably could – and had – but we had the whole of the rest of the holiday to find out.

  The Cruise

  Jane Bidder

  It wasn’t fair … Here we were, almost at the end of the summer, and we still hadn’t gone on holiday.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind, love?’ asked my husband.

  I gave him a loving look across the travel pages of the Sunday supplement. ‘Of course not.’

  Well how could I tell him the truth? It wasn’t Mike’s fault he’d been made redundant at the beginning of the year.

  That afternoon, Mike went shopping and came back with a pile of holiday brochures. ‘We’re going on a Mediterranean cruise!’ he said excitedly, pulling me down on the sofa next to him.

  Had the lack of sun gone to his head? But as I listened to his plan, it began to make sense so that night, we packed our suitcases. The following morning, we found ourselves in Paris, munching croissants in a corner café.

  ‘Isn’t this nice?’ said Mike, reaching out for my hand. I nodded happily.

  ‘Great coffee,’ I murmured.

  ‘Only the French can do it this way,’ agreed my husband. ‘Now how about visiting that impressionist exhibition?’

  We spent the afternoon absorbing French culture; Renoir, Monet, you name it. By the end of the day, I was almost fluent. ‘ C’est magnifique,’ I said to Mike as we made our way to Le Baton Blue for dinner.

  ‘Absolutement,’ he replied. ‘But we can’t be too late or we’ll miss the boat.’

  The following morning was Venice. I’d never been before but I’ve always dreamed of being punted along the canal. I lay down next to my husband and trailed my fingers dreamily in the water as a tall, dark boatman punted us along.

  The next stop was Athens. I’d always wanted to go to the famous son et lumiere at sunset and here we were! I could hardly believe it. It was slightly chilly but that wasn’t going to put us off. Besides, it was a good excuse to wear my new sea-mist blue mohair cardi, a second-hand charity shop find that I’d bought specially for the holiday.

  We were so busy enjoying the sights during the day that we were too exhausted to enjoy much of the night life on board. But one evening, just before docking at Turkey, Mike persuaded me to do a turn on the dance floor. And as I rested my head on his shoulder, I knew that I was the luckiest woman in the world.

  The final stop was Barcelona. Mike insisted on buying me a Spanish silk scarf even though we couldn’t really afford it. We also had a mouthwatering paella at a lovely little restaurant in a cobbled square where Mike took even more photographs.

  On the way back, we sat on the deck and sipped cold lemonade. It wasn’t baking hot but it was warm enough for me to wear one of my summer tops and for Mike to be in shorts. ‘This has been one of the best holidays we’ve ever had,’ I said, looking up from my book.r />
  ‘Hello, there,’ said a voice from over the fence. ‘Haven’t seen you for a few days. Been away, have you?’

  Mike and I giggled from the top of our decking platform that Mike had built earlier in the year. ‘You could say that.’

  Bert, our neighbour, looked at us suspiciously. ‘You’re not very brown. Where did you go?’

  Mike shrugged. ‘Oh, you know, all over the place. France, Spain, Greece, Turkey …’

  Bert frowned over his rhubarb sticks. ‘A week’s cruise? You packed a lot in.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘But actually, it wasn’t an ordinary kind of cruise.’

  ‘No,’ added Mike. ‘It was a magic cruise.We couldn’t afford a holiday so we had days out and pretended we were abroad. We imagined that we were going to Paris and had croissants at that new café down the road. Afterwards, we went to the new Impressionist exhibition in town. For Italy, we visited Oxford for the day and hired a punt with someone to row us down the river. We even packed a suitcase first of all, to get us in the mood.’

  ‘For Athens, we went to a musical soiree in Bath,’ I chipped in. ‘We took a fantastic picnic with feta cheese that we got from M&S. And for Turkey, we tried out one of those Turkish baths not far from here. In the evening, we danced around the lounge and pretended it was the ship’s ballroom.’

  ‘We didn’t have any airport delays and we didn’t have to bother with foreign currency,’ added Mike. ‘But the best thing was coming back to our own bed at night, instead of a lumpy mattress that sank in the middle like the one we had last year in Corfu.’

  Bert nodded. ‘I can see that all right. Don’t hold with going away myself. I went to Weston-Super-Mare twenty years ago and I hated it.’

  ‘You ought to try Barcelona,’ I said with a naughty smile. ‘That was our last port of call yesterday. We visited a Spanish church in London and Mike bought me a real Spanish scarf from a stall in Oxford Street. In the evening, we found a Spanish restaurant and had a great paella although I must say, it’s given me a bit of a funny tummy this morning. I hope it wasn’t the chicken.’