I saw Lucy’s eyes light up. ‘OMG. I’d forgotten about that song. I’m going to suggest it to Kyle.’
‘You should!’ I replied, slightly miffed that she’d stolen the song I wanted to use when I never got married. ‘As long as you get everyone up for the chorus. Or just me. Whatevs.’
I made some tea while we looked at dresses that Lucy had seen online, instantly dismissing anything bright pink and eventually agreeing to wear flower garlands in our hair to keep Kyle happy. Why does Kyle want us all to look like fairies? Doesn’t matter, I’ll rock that shit, regardless.
It looks like everything is coming together nicely. Hazel should do this full-time.
Tuesday July 17th
8 p.m.We’re all organised for tomorrow with only one smallwhere the fuck are the passports?incident late afternoon which was simply resolved by finding them. Surprisingly, Molly went to sleep quickly and Oliver is grabbing a shower now as I write this. Taxi is booked, suitcases are by the door and I’ve set four alarms to make sure we don’t all sleep in and miss the flight. Maybe I should set six alarms? Just in case . . .
Wednesday July 19th
3 a.m.We groggily got up and ready before making our way to Glasgow Airport for our 6 a.m. flight. Unsurprisingly, Molly was in good spirits because she’s four and won’t let something like lack of sleep interfere with her bouncing around plans. Check-in was painless enough with the majority of the queue behind us (all looking like cast members of theWalking Deadwho’d had emergency spray tans the previous day), which left us to make our way through security before finding coffee and sugar to keep us upright.
‘I am going to go on the biggest waterslide ever,’ Molly announced, sipping her apple juice. ‘I’m soexcciiitteeeddd.’
‘Your dad will have to go on the big slides with you, sweetie,’ I reminded her, wishing she had a volume switch. ‘And you’ll be a bit wee for some of the massive ones.’
‘Aren’t you coming on, too,Mum?’ she asked, ignoring my voice of reason. ‘We could have a race.’
I used to love waterslides as a kid but as an adult they scare the shit out of me. I think it’s a height thing. I don’t want to plummet to my death from anything, let alone attached to an inflatable doughnut, thanks very much.
‘Maybe the small ones,’ I replied, hoping she’d change the subject soon. ‘We’ll see.’ I felt like such a killjoy. I got up to collect some sweetener from a nearby table, noticing a woman in her twenties with a kid around the same age as Molly. She had the determined yet fucking demented look of a single parent and I felt nothing but admiration. She wouldn’t get a relaxing holiday – she’d get a week of being on constant stranger danger patrol, sunblock duty and being confined to her hotel room when her daughter decided to fall asleep. At least Oliver and I can take turns escaping for a bit of peace and quiet.
*
4 p.m.After a five-hour flight to Antalya, followed by a ninety-minute coach ride to the hotel and sixteen thousand ‘we’ll be there soon’ reassurances for Molly, we made it. Hotel is gorgeous, right on the beach, and we can see the waterpark, outdoor stage and main pool from our balcony, which thankfully has an extra-high balcony guard to appease my already-ridiculous fear of falling to death. There’s free water and snacks in the fridge, a wet room shower, a huge king-size bed and bunk beds that Molly has already claimed as her own. I think we chose well.
*
6 p.m.Back from the beach. It’s so fucking hot. I didn’t expect it to be this hot. Even my sweat is sweating. I helped Molly wash the sand out of every orifice before jumping into the shower after her and doing the same. This is why people sit on blankets on the beach.
*
7 p.m.All-inclusive buffet restaurants will be the reason I’m forced to buy two seats on the plane home. Food is amazing. Baklava is my spirit cake. The other guests seem to be mainly German, British and Russian, friendly enough but we’re only on day one.
*
10 p.m.Molly and Oliver crashed out on the main bed leaving me to sip a really bad white wine on the balcony before bottom-bunking it with a stuffed cat toy named Pablo and a piece of baklava I didn’t finish at dinner. I’m having a blast.
Thursday July 20th
8 a.m.We ate breakfast in the main restaurant, a large dining area with white table covers, really cool staff and food stations making omelettes and pancakes as well as a huge array of bread, cheese, olives, meats and the best honey I’ve had in my life. Man with Yorkshire accent at the next table complained repeatedly that his orange juice had bits in while his wife refused to touch ‘that turkey bacon muck.’ Molly had pancakes. All of them, I think.
*
9 a.m.Waterpark for three hours before lunch. Decided that I’d brave some slides with Molly and be a fucking adult about it. Realised I’d made a terrible mistake as I hurtled down a giant snake slide at warp speed, screaming uncontrollably. Luckily Oliver caught the whole thing on video, including my clumsy departure from the inflatable ring. Prick. I wasn’t alone, though; it’s heartening to hear so many different nationalities and languages all uniting in the same high-pitched terror shriek.
*
8 p.m.Kid’s mini disco was fun. Molly participated enthusiastically, wiggling along to unknown classics such as ‘Chocolate Choco Choco’, ‘A Ram Sam Sam’, ‘Veo Veo’ and others I’m sure I’ll be having night terrors about before the week is over. Oliver and I sat like proud parents who loved their child and were also off the hook for thirty minutes to drink beer and swear. We were only on our second day but already I was starting to burn while Oliver was getting a healthy glow.
‘I swear my shoulders are melting,’ I complained, pulling my shawl over them. ‘Can you rub some of that Aloe vera stuff on me when we get back to the room?’
‘I’ll rub anything you want when we get back to the room,’ he said, glancing at my cleavage. ‘That dress looks good on you. Really good.’
‘Oliver Webb, are you trying to seduce me?’
