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Unfortunately for us, it turns out that the other group is going to Mallorca, and one of them is sitting next to me on the plane. I’m not a fan of beery breath at the best of times, but it’s particularly hard to stomach first thing in the morning. I turn away from him to try to avoid getting a lungful.
‘All right, ladies? Off on your holidays?’
I sigh. Ignoring him is obviously not going to be an option, so I steel myself for a trying couple of hours making small talk with my semi-plastered neighbour. I’m quickly proved wrong, though, as, apart from the occasional strong whiff of beer, he’s actually good company. He introduces himself as Mike, the best man on the stag do. He points out the bridegroom, who is sitting a few rows in front, and the rest of the party, although it’s not hard to work out who they are from the amount of noise they’re making. I learn that the wedding is in two weeks, and they’ve rented a villa for a few days for the stag. They’re planning to swim, drink, and generally take it easy. He asks about us and is genuinely surprised when I tell him that we’re sisters. The two hours pass quite quickly and, before I know it, we’re descending into Palma.
The immigration queue is not quite as long as the one we encountered at check-in, but it still takes us over half an hour to get through into the baggage hall. I locate the carousel and I’m relieved to see that our bags are patiently circling, waiting for us to pick them up. I always have a niggle of worry that they will have somehow found their way onto the wrong plane, are not going to arrive, and we’ll be stuck in a foreign country with nothing but the clothes on our backs. As we come out into the arrivals hall, I see Mike and the rest of the stag party negotiating with a couple of taxi drivers, and I give him a farewell wave. Katie and I follow the majority of the other holidaymakers towards the transfer buses.
‘That guy on the plane was totally flirting with you,’ Katie remarks, after we’ve found our bus and clambered aboard.
‘I don’t think so,’ I reply. ‘He was wearing a wedding ring, for starters. I reckon he was just being friendly.’
‘I’m not so sure. I think he was hoping for a bit of “what goes on tour stays on tour” action.’
‘Yuck. Where on earth did you learn that phrase?’
‘Where do you think?’ Idiot rugby boys boasting at school. They like to hint that they’ve got up to all these amazing exploits, but I bet its nothing more than a couple of sneaky cans of lager and a bro-mantic snog in the hot tub.’
‘Ouch!’
‘Honestly, you should hear them. How some of them managed to get into sixth form is a total mystery to me.’
‘So, nobody’s caught your eye then?’
‘No. It turns out boys are just as stupid and immature in the sixth form as they were in the lower school.’
Typically, our hotel is pretty much at the end of the bus route, but I don’t mind too much, as it gives me a chance to check out where other people are staying. The first few hotels we stop at, fairly close to the airport, are pretty grotty, but the standard seems to improve the further we go. Katie and I are booked into the four-star Villa Blanca and, as the bus finally turns into the driveway of our hotel, I sigh with pleasure. It looks amazing. The gardens are well-tended, with green lawns and brightly coloured flowerbeds. We’re checked in quickly and efficiently, and I gasp with delight as I swipe the key card and open the door of our room.
It’s massive, with an enormous double bed against one wall, a separate seating area with table, sofa, and chairs, and sliding glass doors that lead out onto the balcony. The air conditioning is running, so it’s pleasantly cool in here. I stick my head into the bathroom to discover a good-sized tub and a separate walk-in shower with one of those rainfall heads.
‘I think we’ll be able to put up with this for a week, don’t you?’ I call to Katie, who has stepped out onto the balcony.
‘Come out here and check out the view!’ she calls back.
I slide open the insect screen and step outside. It’s beautifully warm out here, without being stifling, and there’s a gentle breeze. The balcony looks out towards the hotel’s private beach and the sea beyond. The hotel and beach are in a bay, so the water is calm and the sea is just lapping gently at the sand. Only around half of the sun loungers appear to be occupied, and there are a number of people swimming in the water. Further out into the bay, there are a few anchored boats bobbing lazily. It’s perfect.
‘Let’s get our costumes on and hit the beach,’ I suggest.
Katie doesn’t need telling twice and, after slathering on some factor 50 sun cream, we pack a bag with our beach towels, more sunscreen, and books, and follow the signs. I kick off my shoes as soon as we get there and enjoy the sensation of the warm sand against my feet. We take up position on a couple of free sun loungers and I pull out my book. The rest of the afternoon passes very pleasantly; we read, swim in the sea, and chat about nothing in particular.
‘What’s the deal with Paul?’ Katie asks, as we’re making our way back up to our room to get changed for dinner. The hotel is all-inclusive, with a number of different dining options, but we’ve decided to pile our plates high at the main buffet tonight. Breakfast was a long time ago and we’re both starving.
‘What do you mean?’ I reply.
‘Do you think you’ll get married?’
‘I doubt it. I think we’ll probably just carry on as we are until one of us finds someone we like better, and that will be it.’
‘That sounds a bit depressing. Aren’t you in love with him?’
‘Do you know, you’re the second person to ask me that in as many days. What is this, quiz Daisy about her boyfriend week?’
‘Sorry, I wasn’t trying to pry. I’m just interested.’
‘Because?’
‘Well, because you two have been together for ever. I heard Nan and Grandad talking about it the other day, speculating about whether you’d move out to live with him.’
‘No. I don’t think I could live with him. He’s a good guy, but I don’t really share any of his interests, and his flat is a bit of a shithole. Besides, I couldn’t leave you behind!’ I put my arm around her and give her a squeeze, and she rests her head on my shoulder.
