Page 36 of Another Lucky Number (Lucky Number #2)

Chapter Thirty-Two

A n hour later, we’ve retrieved our beach gear from our suites and trekked across the sand to claim three empty loungers, shaded by large parasols.

They’re located on a section of the beach with a cluster of towering palm trees, giving us some extra protection from the afternoon sun.

We unpack our things and get comfortable, then I look around me and sigh.

‘I may be dreading whatever you have in store for me this afternoon, but I am happy that I get to do it here.’

‘It is stunning.’ Cat follows my gaze. ‘This view… the powdery white sand and that water. It’s mesmerising. I could never get bored of it.’

‘Me neither.’

‘Are you ready for your next task then, Emma?’ Amber terminates our moment of zen.

‘Sure.’ My reply is empty of any enthusiasm.

‘Honey, before we start…’ says Cat suddenly. ‘I want you to know that your instinct about this activity is right. It’s not going to be comfortable for you, but I’ve agreed to it because I genuinely think it’s going to help you. Please keep that in your mind. ’

‘There’s a statement that fills me with confidence… and it is…?’

‘We’ll get to that in a minute,’ says Amber. ‘First, let’s go back to your personal development stuff that we talked about the other night. What were your areas for improvement again?’

She’s testing me rather than asking me to help her remember, and this time I know better than to back chat her while she’s in coach mode. I close my eyes to divert my brain to where it needs to be focused.

‘We talked about… building my assertiveness… working on my impulse control… keeping things in perspective…what else?’

‘Getting over setbacks quickly and making more of your natural skills in empathy and relationship building,’ she fills in for me.

‘Ah, yeah, that was it.’

‘Any thoughts on those since we discussed them?’

‘Not really. But I’ve been busy with other stuff.’

‘That’s true, but try to keep them in your mind, so you can catch yourself in the moment and avoid continually making the same mistakes.’

‘OK, sure. I’ll give that a go.’

‘Great, then let’s get to it.’ Amber puffs herself up like she’s about to announce the winner of the BAFTA for Best Supporting Actress.

‘Emma, this afternoon, you’re going to do a presentation, but not the one you’re doing tomorrow.

I want you to pick a subject – anything you like – and prepare ten-minute’s worth of content.

Then you’re going to deliver it to Cat, myself and some of the people on this beach. ’

‘ What? ’ I sit bolt upright. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

‘I’m not kidding.’

‘But… I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it’s terrifying … and humiliating .’

‘Emma, do you want to get that job tomorrow?’ Amber’s tone is calm and reassuring, which tells me she was one hundred per cent expecting this reaction from me.

‘Yes… but—’

‘Then you need to do this. A dry run with a crowd will let you feel all the unpleasant feelings you’re going to experience tomorrow, which means you’ll be ready for them and you can manage them.’

‘Or it’ll be the single most humiliating moment of my life.’ I cover my face with my hands. ‘What the hell are all these people going to think of me?’

‘That you’re brave and someone to admire,’ says Cat.

Amber gets up from her lounger and sits down next to me. ‘Emma, you need to care a lot less about what others think of you. You don’t know these people, and you’ll never see them again after this holiday, so who gives a shit what they think?’

‘What if they film me and I end up as a meme online? I’d die.’

‘They won’t do that. I’ll ask them not to, and we’ve picked this part of the beach on purpose, so that the trees provide some privacy. No one will be able to film from a distance, and I’ll be watching your audience like a hawk to make sure there are no phones out.’

With Amber already having thought of everything and Cat supporting this activity, my only remaining option is to hurl my toys out of my adult-sized pram – something I’m not prepared to do, given all the effort my friends have put into helping me.

I’m going to have to suck it up and try to reap the benefits I’m assured it will provide.

‘Fine. Let’s get it over with.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ Amber pats my knee. ‘First thing then: choose your topic. It’s totally up to you what you talk about.’

‘OK… um… I have no idea. Why do I suddenly feel like I don’t know anything about anything?’

‘Because you’re panicking, honey.’ Cat adopts a soothing tone. ‘There are lots of things you know about.’

‘Like?’

‘You just bought a new car. You could talk about that experience. Or you could cover a subject like report writing. You did lots of board reports in your last job.’

I grimace. ‘That sounds boring as hell. But then I do know that stuff inside out.’

‘Think of your audience,’ says Amber. ‘Do you think a bunch of holidaymakers are going to be interested in report writing?’

‘Ugh, no.’

‘What about something light-hearted that you can have a bit of fun with?’ she suggests. ‘It’s not about the content, it’s about your presentation skills. You could talk about why street food is the best thing since McDonalds fries, or what you’d do if you ruled the world?’

‘Don’t think I could talk about street food for ten minutes, but I guess I could do the one about ruling the world.’

‘Excellent, that’s sorted then.’ She grins at me. ‘We’ll leave you in peace for an hour to prepare.’

‘ An hour? ’ My eyes widen. ‘That’s not long enough.’

‘OK, ninety minutes. That’s all you’re getting.’

‘But—’

‘Clock’s already ticking.’

‘ You’re so cruel! ’ I wail after her, as she and Cat leave our spot and approach a sunbathing couple nearby.

They appear to have a quick conversation with them, then move onto a small group, and it dawns on me what they’re doing: they’re recruiting my audience.

My heart starts pounding. This is awful.

No, it’s worse than awful. It’s borderline my worst nightmare.

Karaoke now seems like a breeze in comparison.

After working myself up into a substantial lather, it dawns on me that I need to pull myself together or I’ll find myself in front of an audience in – I check the time on my phone – eighty-four minutes time with nothing to share.

Fixing my gaze on a point on the horizon, I take some deep breaths – resurrecting the self-help approach I used when I was having anxiety attacks after Dave dumped me.

This helps a little, but I’m still a long way from being able to focus.

Then I have an idea. I quickly slather on some sun cream, grab my notepad and pen, and make my way down to the water’s edge.

The moment my feet are immersed in the cool, clear water, the heat of my panic is extinguished.

I wade in up to my knees, and the deeper I get, the more in control I feel.

Within minutes, I’m capable of coherent thought, and I start to play with ideas in my mind, noting down the those that appeal the most.

Twenty minutes later, I’m back on my lounger, scribbling furiously.

The content isn’t a problem once I get going, but I need as much time as possible to be confident presenting it.

Every time I think about my impending audience, I feel nauseous – and also tempted to do a rain dance in the hope that a tropical storm materialises and we have to call the whole thing off.

Who am I kidding? It’s a perfect cloudless day, and even if that were to happen, Amber would make damn sure to mobilise the troops somewhere indoors.

Man, I hate her sometimes (in a really loving way).

By the time my friends return, I’m nowhere near ready to do this – but given that that time would be never , it’s probably irrelevant.

‘You all set?’ Amber gives me an encouraging nudge that nearly knocks me on my arse because I’m feeling so faint.

‘How about some water?’ says Cat. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky… and damp.’

‘No shit.’ I look at her glumly. ‘I think I’ve sweated out the entire water content of my body. ’

‘It’ll be over really soon.’ She hands me a bottle of water and I take a sizeable glug.

I catch her giving Amber a look to move things along, and without warning Amber puts her fingers in her mouth and gives a loud piercing whistle.

Then, like a scene from The Walking Dead , about two dozen people get to their feet and start moving in our direction.

And I feel a crushing dread like I’ve never experienced before.

Watching the sea of people gather around us, some chatting and laughing while others are talking in hushed tones, I feel an urgent urge to take off up the beach towards my suite. But I know I have to see this through, so I fight it and focus on my breathing.

‘Hey, everyone,’ Amber greets them. ‘Thanks so much for agreeing to this. This is Emma… and as I said, she’s got a big interview coming up, so she’ll be presenting to you to get some practice in. She’ll talk for about ten minutes, then you’ll have the opportunity to ask her some questions.’

They’ll what? My face drains of any remaining colour. Amber didn’t mention there would be a Q&A session as well. No doubt on purpose, because she knew it would send me over the edge.

I’m on the verge of hyperventilating, when a calming hand makes contact with my waist, and Cat pulls me into a squeezy side-hug.

‘You’ve got this,’ she whispers in my ear as Amber says ‘Emma, you’re up’ and gestures for me to take ‘centre stage’.

After (too) long a pause, where I’m willing my body to move but it’s refusing to cooperate, I step forward on Bambi legs and smile weakly at my audience.

Clearing my throat a couple of times while rustling my notes (more for the security of knowing that they’re there than anything else), I take a shuddering breath and let out what can only be described as a cross between a croak and a squeak.