Page 25 of Another Lucky Number (Lucky Number #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

A fter lunch, Cat and Amber go straight to the pool, while I divert to my suite to get changed into my swimwear and pick up my stuff.

I quickly apply some extra make up – mascara, eyeliner and lip gloss, to ensure I’m looking ultra kissable – then I throw my sun cream, makeup (for any additional touch-ups) and a book into my beach bag and head out again.

Joining the girls by the vast, glistening lagoon-style swimming pool, I strip down to my bikini, perch myself on the edge of lounger they’ve saved for me and begin the laborious process of applying my sun cream.

‘I’m so ready for this,’ I say. ‘Can I maybe have half an hour of downtime before we start whatever this afternoon’s task involves?’

‘Sure, why not,’ says Amber from her face-down horizontal position. ‘Better to have you fresh and ready for it.’

‘Exactly what I was thinking. You two could probably do with a bit of a break from the prep too.’ I smile at Cat, who looks super relaxed and simply nods in agreement.

Returning to my lotion application, I’m rubbing it into my legs when two young children run past me with water guns, spraying them at each other, and soaking me in the process.

‘ Argh … that’s freezing .’ I jump up and leap out of the way while they continuing their boisterous play battle along the poolside, seemingly oblivious to what they’ve done. ‘Surely a resort like this doesn’t allow water fights round the pool.’

‘What they gonna do?’ says Amber.

‘Um… tell them off?’

I dry myself down and resume applying my sun cream, but within moments, the same children are back, acting out an imaginary duel on the bridge that crosses the narrowest point of the pool – and which unfortunately is right across from me.

I retreat behind my lounger, hoping they’ll move on again. However, they seem to enjoy the added excitement the bridge brings to their game, and after a minute or so, I decide that, as long as they stay there, it’s probably safe to return to my spot.

‘Want me to do your back, honey?’ Cat offers.

‘Yes, please.’ I scooch to the end of my lounger to make things easier for her, and as I hand her the bottle, a powerful jet of water hits me square in the face.

‘ Arghhh! What the hell? ’

Snatching up my towel, I frustratedly wipe the water from my face just in time to see the two children giggling and pointing in my direction, then darting across the bridge to the other side of the pool.

‘ You’d better run! ’ I shout after them.

‘Oh gosh, honey, are you OK?’ says Cat. ‘That was… unfortunate.’

‘ The wee bastards . Did you see them laughing there? If they do that one more time, I’ll—’

‘You’ll what?’ Amber tips up her sunglasses long enough to shoot me a sceptical look, and I’m about to back chat her when Cat intervenes .

‘Let’s get some sun cream on you before you burn.’ She squeezes lotion onto my back and rubs it in.

‘Thank you. At least someone around here is helpful. Is my mascara running?’ I turn so she can inspect my face and she grimaces.

‘It is, yeah. That was quite a soaking you got. I have a compact mirror in my bag if you want to use it?’

‘Nah, it’s fine. I’ll nip to the ladies once you’re done. Thanks anyway.’

‘No probs. Do you know what time James and his friends are joining us?’

I shake my head. ‘He didn’t say.’

‘Well, that’s your sun cream done, so off you go.’

‘Thanks, Cat.’

Grabbing my beach bag, I hurry along the poolside, watching out for James as I go. I do not want to bump into him and his mates while looking like I lost an argument with a garden hose.

When I reach the mirror in the ladies toilets, I gasp on seeing that Cat was being kind.

It wouldn’t take too much imagination to think I’d secured the starring role in a new film called Zombie Vacation .

Using a wet paper towel, I wipe away the heavy black track marks under my eyes, reapply my eye makeup and pull my partially soaked hair into a (purposefully) messy ponytail.

Once I’m happy that I’m presentable again, I head back to rejoin my friends, and as my lounger comes into view, it looks like someone is on it.

Confused, I stop and double check my bearings, but I’m looking at the right spot.

I can see Cat and Amber stretched out on their own loungers, but there’s a woman lying face down on mine.

And on closer inspection, I can also see that my resort-branded towel and clothes have been discarded on the ground. How rude!

Unsure of what to do, I hover above the woman, hoping she’ll notice me and voluntarily move out of guilt or embarrassment, but she doesn’t even twitch – meaning I have no choice but to move on or speak up.

‘Um… excuse me?’ I keep my tone as polite as possible. ‘I think you’re on my lounger.’

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t even seem to notice me.

‘ Hello … excuse me, please?’

The woman finally twigs that I’m talking to her and cranes her neck so she can see me. ‘Yes?’

It’s clear from her expression that she’s irritated by the disturbance.

‘I’m afraid you’re on my lounger,’ I say. ‘That’s my stuff on the ground. I only nipped to the toilets.’

The woman turns over and looks me up and down. ‘It was free when I got here. Not my fault you forgot to put your stuff on it.’

‘No, but that’s the thing… my stuff was on it. You must have removed it.’

‘ Excuse me? I didn’t touch anything. As I said, the lounger was free.’

I hesitate, the discomfort of this interaction making me want to give up and walk away. Almost but not quite. She’s clearly stolen my lounger and I want to be next to my friends.

‘It wasn’t free though,’ I try again. ‘My towel and clothes were on it.’

‘Are you calling me a liar?’

‘No, of course not.’ I feel my cheeks start to burn. ‘But my stuff was there before I left, so… someone must have moved it.’

The woman scowls, making it abundantly clear that I’m pissing her off. ‘Well, if someone moved your stuff, then I suggest you go and have a word with that someone , and leave me in peace.’

Exasperation and a sense of injustice rears within me.

She has obviously seen that there are no other loungers available and taken mine for herself, rudely discarding my things in the process.

I glance across at Cat and Amber, hoping for some support, but they’re both lying face down, either asleep or unaware of the scene playing out beside them.

‘ I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my sun. ’ The woman takes another verbal swipe at me at me, this time in an even more hostile tone.

Cowed by her aggression, I give in and go in search of another lounger.

Luckily, a young couple are packing up not too far along the poolside, so I wait until they leave and then set myself up in their spot.

I’m annoyed that I’m now separated from my friends, especially because we’re meant to be doing my interview prep shortly.

But as there’s little I can do about it, I might as well enjoy what free time I have left.

Once I’m settled again, I take my book out of my beach bag and attempt to lose myself in it, but I find it difficult to relax. Not surprising really, given what has gone down in the last twenty or so minutes.

Discarding my book, I opt for some people watching instead and it’s a good choice.

In no time at all, I’m feeling more relaxed from simply drinking in the ‘summery’ scene around me: couples, friends and families frolicking merrily in the pool; people strolling past sipping rainbow-coloured frozen drinks against the luscious backdrop of the azure blue sky, palm trees and other tropical shrubbery.

The chill beats floating across the omnipresent sea breeze from the speakers of the outdoor entertainment system also enhance the holiday ambience.

It’s a mood lifter all right. An infectious atmosphere of happiness and contentment.

In fact, I become so lost in the loveliness of it all that I almost miss the empty lounger next to me being commandeered by a new occupier: a woman around my age with long blonde hair wearing an ankle-length blue beach dress.

I nod politely at her and resume my people watching.

However, after a minute or two, I become aware of a sniffing noise coming from her direction.

Assuming she’s got allergies or something, I pay her little attention, until she makes a noise that sounds like a hippopotamus choking on its lunch.

I glance across and see her lifting her sunglasses and wiping her eyes, which are unmistakably red and puffy. She’s crying.

‘Hey, are you OK?’ I ask, without thinking.

‘Oh… yes… I’m fine. Sorry.’

She seems embarrassed that I’ve clocked her emotional state, and this appears to upset her even more. Her body shudders as she tries and fails to quell her distress.

‘ Goodness , you’re not OK at all.’ I sit up and give her my full attention.

‘I’m… s… sorry,’ she stutters, between sobs. ‘This isn’t… me. I’m… being stupid.’

Taking her willingness to engage with me as a positive sign, I decide that it’s safe to offer her some support.

‘I know we’ve never met, but do you want to talk about it? You can tell me to get lost if you want – I won’t be offended at all – but I get the feeling you could do with a friendly ear.’

She stops sobbing momentarily and looks at me. ‘You’re Scottish.’

‘Yes, I am. And you are too.’ I smile kindly at her, understanding the statement: one of relief at having found a ‘kindred spirit’ during her moment of need.

‘I’m from… Aberdeen.’

‘I live in Edinburgh. My name’s Emma. What’s yours?’

‘Fiona.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Fiona. Though I wish it had been under better circumstances.’

‘Me… too.’ She lets out a heavy, faltering sigh.

Sensing that she’ll be OK with some physical contact, I move myself onto her lounger to sit beside her and put my arm around her while she silently works through her turmoil.

Her almost hopeless demeanour reminds me of how I felt after my break up with my ex, Dave, a few weeks back. It’s a heartbroken cry – no question.

‘This is my honeymoon,’ Fiona says eventually.

‘It was meant to be the holiday of a lifetime. Us starting a new adventure together. I was so excited to become Mrs Lawson… and now… now I find out he never wanted to get married. Says I pressured him into it… that everyone pressured him into it.’ She looks at me with devastated eyes.

‘But I didn’t. I would never do that. It was all in his head. He wound himself up.’

I keep quiet, giving her the space to vent as much as she needs, only speaking when it’s clear that she’s looking for input or emotional support from me.

‘Could it be a touch of post-wedding anxiety?’ I ask and she frowns.

‘I don’t think so. There were signs before the wedding. I just didn’t want to see them. I also think he might be cheating on me.’

I’ve been there , I think to myself, but I don’t verbalise this. Being cheated on by your boyfriend of four years is one thing, but by your new husband is quite another.

‘What makes you think he’s cheating?’ I ask instead.

‘He’s secretive with his phone. I’m not like that because I have nothing to hide. He knows my passcode, my email password, everything.’

‘But he won’t share his with you.’

‘No. I mean, I haven’t asked him to. I’d never ask that.

It’s more that he doesn’t volunteer it and he always has his phone with him.

He’s also stayed out all night a few times in recent months.

Tells me he’s slept on his mate’s couch, but why would he choose to do that?

We live ten minutes further down the road. ’

‘I’m really sorry you’re feeling like this on your honeymoon.’ I give her a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Have you tried talking to him?’

‘Yes.’ She blows her nose on a tissue she’s found in her beach bag. ‘But every time it turns into an argument. It’s like he resents me for everything.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to say it, but it doesn’t sound like he’s behaving like a grown up – and certainly not a husband.’

‘Maybe it is all my fault.’ Fiona hangs her head miserably. ‘Maybe I did unintentionally push him into this, and that drove him to—’

‘Hey, let’s not have any of that,’ I say.

‘You haven’t forced him into anything. Or driven him to anything.

He’s a big boy who’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions.

If he’s playing the victim and he’s allowed himself to get married without wanting to, then I’m afraid that’s on him.

You’re not responsible for his decisions or his behaviour.

And you certainly don’t deserve to be treated like this. ’

‘You sound like you’re talking from experience.’

‘I am. Sort of. I was living with an arrogant pig until recently. He dumped me in a very cruel way and then it turned out he was cheating. I blamed myself – as you’re doing right now – but ultimately, I realised that I’m better off without him.’

‘Good for you.’ She gives a weak smile. ‘I wish I was that strong.’

‘You’re stronger than you know,’ I assure her. ‘But you won’t find that out until you’re really tested. Could you perhaps find a way to work it through with your husband in a safe environment – maybe somewhere public? So you can ask the questions you want answers to without him blowing up at you.’

‘You know, I never thought of that.’ Fiona lifts her head and looks at me, the faintest glimmer of hope in her eye. ‘I’m going to tell Neil I want to talk over a drink in the bar. He’ll never make a scene there. Thank you, Emma. You’ve been so kind letting me vent like this. ’

‘Not at all. We ladies have to stick together, eh? Whichever way this goes, remember it’ll all work out in the long run. You deserve to be with a man who adores you, and if that man isn’t your new husband, then it will be someone else.’

‘You’re right, again. I do deserve more. Thank you for helping me see that. I’m going to do it now. Wish me luck.’

‘Good luck. You’ve got this.’

I feel sad for Fiona as I watch her gather her things and leave the poolside, but at least she’s looking more together than when she arrived. It must be awful being in her position – especially having it happen while away from home.

While contemplating this, I become aware of some activity behind me. I turn to see what’s going on, and before I have time to register anything, I’m hit square in the face by two powerful jets of water – and this time there’s no question that the two little shits have done it on purpose.

‘ Arghh! Are you kidding me? Right, that’s it... ’ I quickly wipe my face with my towel and take off across the poolside after them.