‘It’s true,’ she agreed. ‘Husband, kid, mortgage, self-assessment . . . God, I’m dull. Did I ever tell you that I spent the night in the cells when I was twenty?’
Lucy’s glass hit the table with a loud thunk. ‘Shut. Up. You did not!’
She nodded proudly. ‘Yep. I fell asleep on a bus, gave the driver grief, passed out again and he called the police. I was far too drunk to remember where I lived so they banged me up for the night. I USED TO BE WILD AND IRRESPONSIBLE.’
A couple in their sixties glared at us as they exited the dining room. It seems Hazel was just as tipsy as Lucy and also a hooligan in a previous life. It seems we’re all struggling with the realisation that being an adult is shite.
Sunday July 2nd
Devoured a massive, sausage-heavy breakfast at the hotel this morning so felt pretty sluggish most of the day. Lucy and Hazel recovered from their hangovers impressively quickly and were both delightfully chipper on the drive home – well, until a wasp flew near Lucy’s open window and she had a small heart attack.
When I arrived back at the flat, Oliver and Molly were having a jammies day and sat cuddled up on the sofa watching some old episodes of He-Man that Oliver had found online.
‘Enjoying yourselves?’ I enquired, chucking my overnight bag into the bedroom. ‘I haven’t seen this show in years!’
Molly was too engrossed to welcome me home, simply nodding in response.
‘I’d forgotten how brilliant it is . . . well, was,’ Oliver replied, motioning for me to come and join them, which I did, pulling the blanket from the back of the couch over me.
‘You smell like a Yankee candle,’ Oliver noted, sniffing my hair. ‘It’s nice.’
‘I’m freakin’ exhausted,’ I replied. ‘De-stressing has de-stroyed me.’
‘You’re such a lightweight.’
‘That’s blatantly untrue.’
Twenty minutes later I was asleep on Oliver’s lap with the sound of Skeletor laughing in the background.
Monday July 3rd
I’ve checked the holiday board at work and I can take ten days from the 19thJuly so Oliver and I will need to plan our holiday around that. Guaranteed it’s going to cost a bajillion pounds because it’s the school holidays, so we’ll have to choose wisely. I’ve explained to Molly that we can’t afford to hold a big party for her birthdayandgo on holiday but she’s fine with that. Apparently nothing will top her bouncy castle party last year anyway. Thank God she’s not a difficult child.
Frank was hovering around my desk at work today, asking questions about Sarah Ward-Wilson. How long have I known her, was she married, how many children does she have . . . it couldn’t have been more obvious that he was fishing for her number, which thankfully, I don’t have.
‘Jesus, Frank, just Google her like a normal stalker! Pretty certain she’ll have a Facebook or a Twitter account or something.’
‘I looked,’ he said sheepishly. ‘Couldn’t find anything useful.’
‘Oh well . . .’
‘But you could give hermynumber . . .’
Oh God, no. I was not getting involved in this. He seems to have forgotten that I helped him snag his last wife Vanessa – this is not part of my job description. Besides, it means I would have to go out of my way to talk to Lord Wilson and I’d like to not do that.
‘Sorry, Frank. School holidays. I won’t see her until the new term starts in August,’ I replied. ‘You’ll just have to figure this one out on your own.’
He sloped away back to his office, tail between his legs. If there’s one thing I know about Frank, however, it’s that he’s determined. If he wants to get in touch with her, he’ll make it happen.
Tuesday July 4th
‘Egypt is pretty cheap.’
I looked over at Oliver who was scrolling away on his phone. ‘There’s loads of kid-friendly hotels,’ he continued. ‘We could do the pyramids and stuff, too.’
‘They’re cheap because no one wants to get terrorised by terrorists,’ I replied. ‘I’m not even sure the tour operators fly there at the moment. Same with Tunisia.’
‘Phoebe, I don’t think anywhere hasn’t been targeted by nut jobs.’ He continued scrolling. ‘This place in Turkey looks pretty decent. Four-star, all inclusive. Big waterpark.’
