Chapter 2

DAY 1

I caught the train to Luton and met them there. Why? Well they were five in the car already and I knew an extra passenger would be a nuisance; it seemed best not to be a difficulty so early. So, getting there early, as is my usual way, I sat in the Lingo’s Coffee Bar and drank a milky coffee. Cheryl had all the travel docs and had arranged a change of name for the lead traveller (to me!); so if I wasn’t there no-one else could go apparently. I saw them arrive in the minibus from the long stay carpark; Cheryl looked a little hassled. They walked in and I came down the escalator to meet them. None of the noticed me even though they were looking all round. That didn’t bode well. There was an air of panic or a storm coming.

“Hello? All ready?” I said

“Oh, ahh, yes, thank goodness. Such a journey! Oh, you were right to go by train!” said Cheryl, I could see her two daughters rolling there eyes. I didn’t say that I’d been there ages because of the times of the trains. “The traffic!! I thought we’d never get here. This was such a silly idea!”

“Mum, it’s fine”

I joined in, “Perhaps if I could suggest? If we check in and get rid of the luggage then we can go and get a coffee? We have loads of time” I smiled at her, was she a worrier? Oh dear. I noted that she was in her holiday wear now. High heels had given way to canvas flats. But these canvas flats would have cost her £50 I reckon; mine cost me a fiver. Her tight cotton trousers emphasised her well trimmed legs.

As we walked to check in – this was in the days before airlines decided we’d rather do the whole pallaver ourselves at a machine and then queue up just the same to drop our bags off – Tony poked me “Heh! Stop giving my Mum the once over, she’s my Mum!”

“She’s also hot ... but so are you.” I added quickly. Actually it was true. She was only in jeans, like me, but hers were tight and her teeshirt was stretched attractively over her bust. Fred, I noticed had opted for a looser fitting top. Probably sensible given the heat at the other end; and the competition in the bust stakes. Fred’s shorts, though; well, they were short. Her little bottom rotated back and forth as she walked in a most attractive way. I reminded myself of her age, and my religious scruples. Sarah and Joanne were walking behind, Sarah had dark hair, she actually looked rather Jewish, I thought, but didn’t get to ask her. Eventually it came out that her family had been Jewish up to the 1890s, when her grandfather (great grandfather?) had converted. I gave myself a bonus point for observation. She had dark eyes, dark hair and would (I think) have had a mono-brow without some judicious plucking. Instead she had striking eyebrows that rose at the outer edges. Her face would grab your attention; but then you would notice the rest of her. She was short, perhaps only five foot three? She might almost have been a clay model that had been squished down a little, with the result that her bust and bottom had stuck out more. She had a large bust, and a prominent bottom. Both of these were a disadvantage when the fashion was still for boyish figures. She looked right though, that’s what matters. Her legs might have been thicker than the others’, but thin legs would have looked like matchsticks under her body. As it was, in proportion as she was, her bare legs (she was in shorts, longer shorts than Fred’s) didn’t wobble as she walked, they were firm and sexy and led to shoes with slight heels. She was sensitive about her height, or lack of it, so she always wore slight heels to add half an inch or so. She would have to leave them off on the boat of course.

Beside Sarah, Joanne looked tall, but she wasn’t. She was, maybe, a couple of inches taller than Sarah in her heeled shoes. She had a permanent wave in her hair, I think it was natural because it always seemed to dry back to being wavy. She had long dark blonde or very light brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She had a habit of pushing it behind her ears, but it always flopped back to frame her face. She had, I remember, unusually long fingers; which she would wave when she spoke, like she was weaving a spell. It was certainly spell-binding. Of all the younger women, she was the only one who could challenge Cheryl for elegance. She actually had Gucci loafers on. I pointed out that they’d get ruined by the salt water, but she didn’t seem to mind. When sailing, I’d heard that she had been unusually aggressive in competing with other boats; not a trait expected of someone who took fifteen minutes every morning to paint her finger and toe nails. She wasn’t a particularly good sailor, but she was willing to learn. Walking with Sarah, they clearly were keen to come for the holiday but not sure how to fit in to the family group. I could see there was a danger there, the McKintricks and the others.

We were early for checkin, it wasn’t really meant to be open for our flight, but the male attendant looked at the bevy of lovely girls and women and melted (of course). I commented after that if I’d turned up on my own I’d have been turned away. “Oh, well Chris, you should have tried the guy two desks down, he’d have let you through” said Cheryl.

“Why?” I said

“Bent as a paperclip. Stood out a mile”

“Mum! You can’t say that!” exclaimed Fred, she was into political correctness, even then. I stopped walking, I couldn’t walk for laughing. Looking back in my mind, I realised that she was spot on. She was observant.

“I’m not judging him, he just was. The two women who wanted to check in for Prague were turned away because they were five minutes too early”

We went through to departures, to another branch of Lingo’s, where I bought a round of coffees and toast. Luton hadn’t gone continental with croissants (and increased prices) yet. “Here, Chris, let us pay for ours” Sarah, Joanne, and Cheryl all said, in so many words. I told them not to bother.

“You’ll all get the chance to buy me a Greek coffee – grit with sugar from what I can gather – during the two weeks. Two weeks! I am so looking forward to this!” It was true, I hadn’t expected a holiday this year. It was also true I was supposed to be revising and stuff for the final year. I didn’t, and it made no difference as far as I could tell. I got a very good 2:1 and went on to do a PhD and become a lecturer. I like to think it made me a better tutor for my students later.

Cheryl calmed down. It seemed that Fred hadn’t been ready when Cheryl wanted to leave and that had caused a row, which, of course, meant they left even later. Then they hit the road works on the motorway and the three lanes became two lanes became one lane of immobile traffic; and Cheryl started to fume. She came close to sitting her hand on the horn – only Tony’s insistent arguments stopped her. They had intended to stop at the services for a break, Cheryl wasn’t a comfortable driver, but now there was no time and this made things worse. And when they got to the airport she missed the turning for the long stay and had to drive round the one-way system again. All of which meant she was in explosive mood when the man at the long stay check in was relaxed about when the next minibus would pick them up. He looked shell shocked, according to Fred’s highly descriptive and amusing (even to Cheryl) telling of the story. “Oh, dear was I really that rude to him? I’ll have to apologise if he’s there when we get back”

“I wouldn’t worry too much Cheryl” said Sarah “He’s probably used to it”

“You mean” added Fred “that he’s used to histrionic women verbally flaying him alive?”

“Fred, you’re a stirrer aren’t you?” I laughed

“A girl’s got to have some fun” she replied “On which point, Mum, have you told him the news”

“No, not yet, I was waiting for a good time. Why don’t you all go shopping?”

“I’m off to the loo” said Tony, and pulled a reluctant Fred with her. Fred wanted to see my reaction to whatever it was apparently. Sarah and Joanne went off with them.

It transpired that no-one had thought of the sleeping arrangements. The boat had a forward cabin, two bench seat/beds in the saloon, and an aft cabin under the cockpit. There was a narrow walkway from the saloon to this rear cabin. So each room slept two; and there were six of us. I saw the problem. I suggested that we might be able to re-arrange something, but she said no, she’d considered it all and thought the best route was for us – her and me – to share the rear cabin if that was alright. She stressed that it wasn’t because she didn’t trust me, but, well ... I could see her predicament. I understood why this holiday had to work from her point of view, and again, conscious of my status I did not wish to rock the boat. I smiled at my own pun, and said it out loud. She smiled too. “You’re very understanding. Thank you, I’ll let you pick whichever bunk you want”

The girls came back forty minutes before boarding, already Cheryl was starting to stress. This was the first time she had ever steeled herself to take the family away without Kevin. Secretly she was pleased that Tarquin had opted to go off with a friend’s family, he could be a handful; but she did worry that he might be difficult for them. In the event, Tarquin fell in love, well into a crush; his friend’s older brother was a bronzed god (he was, I saw the pictures) and Tarquin apparently turned into an obedient puppy for the whole holiday. Max, it transpired, was also gay, which was used to teased Tarquin for several years after he started chasing girls ‘remember your first boyfriend Tarq?’

We headed for the gate. I was sitting with Cheryl, Fred with Tony, and Sarah with Joanne. I suggested to Tony that she swap with Sarah or Joanne, so Fred could get to know one or other of the girls a little better, which they did. This was in the days of being fed on airlines, so, at 3pm, we took off, and, at 3:20pm they came round with drinks. Cheryl wondered if the girls would drink. I suggested she put her worry beads to one side and enjoy the flight. She looked out of the window, over clear sky and said “Is that a ship?”

Now to see if it was, I had to lean over her, I was conscious of my ear stroking her bust, and tried to ignore it; after all, she had asked me to look. “Oh yes, there’s several, you can see the wake from them” We drank our wine (I opted for white wine rather than beer; trying to appear sophisticated) and then received our heated plastic containers of late lunch (or was it early dinner?). Food was a way of keeping customers happy and occupied. The food was okay, it wouldn’t get an Egon Ronay star. When I went to the toilets in the middle of the plane, not long after, I passed the four girls. Somehow that were seated together, two pairs of seats behind each other, where we were several rows away. All had a plastic glass in front of them. I smiled and deliberately didn’t ask what they were drinking. Back at my seat, Cheryl said “They came round with drinks and coffee, I got you a whisky and a white coffee, is that okay?” Clearly her concern for the welfare of her female charges didn’t include me, I was an adult and expected to drink. I noticed she had a gin. We chatted and that was when I heard about the sins of Kevin. Not the adultery ones, the sins of omission with regard to his family. He was a shit, no question. Missing school concerts, cancelling holidays. It wasn’t favouritism; he was no better to Tarquin than to the girls; it was just that Tarquin used it as a role model, where as Tony and Fred just came to expect little from their parent. That was why this holiday was important. “Probably the last one with Tony, I wanted to make it happen despite Kevin. One day he’ll wake up and realise what he has missed I think. Sorry, I’m embarrassing you,”

“No, not a bit. I just don’t know how to respond I suppose. I’ve been lucky, my parents always took two weeks off every year and we’d do something as a family. I know they didn’t always have loads of money, but the best holiday I ever went on was the second camping holiday we had. We camped in Scotland, in a wood. Do you know I still don’t know where it was? I’ve tried to work it out; I must make Dad show me on a map. It was semi-wild camping. We had a fire at night, and it rained half the time – this was Scotland after all – but it wasn’t cold. So we ran around in muddy shorts and teeshirt and no shoes and I saw a red squirrel. I can’t remember one place we visited; only the pervading sense of joy in that holiday”

“You’re lucky, I envy you. Not the wild camping, not that.” No, she didn’t look like someone to rough it. “But the happy holidays.”

“It wasn’t all wonderful. Mum wasn’t the most wild camper either. She gave us a half a tin of fruit one day for dessert, and the next way we had the other half and there was a crunch in my mouth. She swore it was just a hard piece of fruit until I produced the half wasp that was left. I’d swallowed the other half. She’d just left the open tin beside the cooker you see. Still, it’s a memory isn’t it?”