have gone mad!’ Marion protests, until he explains that he just
wanted to stop the children in Starbucks from crying.
Once we’re on the plane, Joe and Emily sit together, and Cate and Will in front of them. Despite the fact that this is a budget airline – and the best they can do is a flaccid cheese
sandwich and warm white wine – Cate and Will look so euphoric to be in each other’s presence they could be in First Class on a British Airways flight.
Esteban, having been separated from Jilly during the rush for the gate, ends up sitting next to me. I’m not at all unhappy with this development – he’s good fun, a nice bloke
and it’s fascinating hearing about his life back in Lima.
But two problems become apparent the second we take our seats.
Firstly, his biceps – which are so big that by rights they should each have had their own allocated seat – leave me with as much personal space as a family of hippos playing
Sardines.
Worse, despite Esteban being seventeen stone and built like a brick privy, it emerges that he is terrified of flying – to the point of hysteria.
‘I thought I was over this,’ he whimpers, as sweat bubbles on his brow. The engine hasn’t even started yet. ‘But this . . . this is terrible . . . horrendous . . .
INSANE.’ At that he begins hyperventilating.
‘Esteban, don’t worry. Take deep breaths,’ I reassure him, as he grabs my hand and nearly breaks three fingers.
When the plane’s wheels lift off the ground, the noise he lets out of his mouth is not even human; it’s like the sound those creatures in
Avatar
make when they’ve been
harpooned. And nothing I can say or do seems to help.
‘Hold me, Lauren!’ he implores, as Joe and Emily spin round to see what’s going on. I smile unconvincingly as Esteban throws his massive arms around my neck and trembles with
terror.
‘Um . . . how did you get to the UK? You must have flown here?’ I mumble, my cheek squashed into his armpit, his hairs tickling my nose.
‘Sleeping tablets.’
‘Didn’t you bring some this time?’
His eyes ping open. ‘Good idea,’ he breathes, rifling round in his bum bag, before producing a tablet the size of a nuclear warhead and washing it down with a bottle of sparkling
spring water.
It doesn’t just make him sleep. It sends him catatonic.
He slumps into his seat, and half of mine, with a lobotomised look in his eyes as I try and interest him in reading the in-flight magazine, just to check he hasn’t slipped into an actual
coma.
Still, he settles eventually – at which point I close my own eyes, put on my headphones and flick through the music, until ‘You Send Me’ by Sam Cooke comes on. I then allow
myself to drift into the most blissful dream, in which Edwin and I are sitting in the sunshine on the terrace of the Raffles Hotel, sipping Singapore Slings with a cool breeze in my hair.
Edwin reaches over and touches my chin and is about to kiss me. His lips sink into mine as I experience a rush of warmth through my body – followed by a rush of cold
on
my body.
My eyelids fly open as Esteban flails about, his sparkling water all over me, as it becomes apparent that he has realised we are about to land . . . and is no longer catatonic.
More’s the pity.
Chapter 13
Despite the overblown title, the Grande Princess Royale Mar resort is a clean but uninspiring two and a half star hotel on the outskirts of Torremolinos. On the plus side, it
overlooks the Bajondillo beach, with a sweeping view of the mountains and sea. It’s early afternoon before we check in to the ‘family suite’ Emily, Cate and I are sharing. This
arrangement was organised by Marion, who was either oblivious to the fact that Cate and Will are an item, or wanted to make sure that the only exercise in which they indulged was dancing.
The room consists of one queen-sized bed and a bunk apparently pilfered from the set of
Orange Is the New Black
. We toss a coin and I end up on the top. A
wanted to stop the children in Starbucks from crying.
Once we’re on the plane, Joe and Emily sit together, and Cate and Will in front of them. Despite the fact that this is a budget airline – and the best they can do is a flaccid cheese
sandwich and warm white wine – Cate and Will look so euphoric to be in each other’s presence they could be in First Class on a British Airways flight.
Esteban, having been separated from Jilly during the rush for the gate, ends up sitting next to me. I’m not at all unhappy with this development – he’s good fun, a nice bloke
and it’s fascinating hearing about his life back in Lima.
But two problems become apparent the second we take our seats.
Firstly, his biceps – which are so big that by rights they should each have had their own allocated seat – leave me with as much personal space as a family of hippos playing
Sardines.
Worse, despite Esteban being seventeen stone and built like a brick privy, it emerges that he is terrified of flying – to the point of hysteria.
‘I thought I was over this,’ he whimpers, as sweat bubbles on his brow. The engine hasn’t even started yet. ‘But this . . . this is terrible . . . horrendous . . .
INSANE.’ At that he begins hyperventilating.
‘Esteban, don’t worry. Take deep breaths,’ I reassure him, as he grabs my hand and nearly breaks three fingers.
When the plane’s wheels lift off the ground, the noise he lets out of his mouth is not even human; it’s like the sound those creatures in
Avatar
make when they’ve been
harpooned. And nothing I can say or do seems to help.
‘Hold me, Lauren!’ he implores, as Joe and Emily spin round to see what’s going on. I smile unconvincingly as Esteban throws his massive arms around my neck and trembles with
terror.
‘Um . . . how did you get to the UK? You must have flown here?’ I mumble, my cheek squashed into his armpit, his hairs tickling my nose.
‘Sleeping tablets.’
‘Didn’t you bring some this time?’
His eyes ping open. ‘Good idea,’ he breathes, rifling round in his bum bag, before producing a tablet the size of a nuclear warhead and washing it down with a bottle of sparkling
spring water.
It doesn’t just make him sleep. It sends him catatonic.
He slumps into his seat, and half of mine, with a lobotomised look in his eyes as I try and interest him in reading the in-flight magazine, just to check he hasn’t slipped into an actual
coma.
Still, he settles eventually – at which point I close my own eyes, put on my headphones and flick through the music, until ‘You Send Me’ by Sam Cooke comes on. I then allow
myself to drift into the most blissful dream, in which Edwin and I are sitting in the sunshine on the terrace of the Raffles Hotel, sipping Singapore Slings with a cool breeze in my hair.
Edwin reaches over and touches my chin and is about to kiss me. His lips sink into mine as I experience a rush of warmth through my body – followed by a rush of cold
on
my body.
My eyelids fly open as Esteban flails about, his sparkling water all over me, as it becomes apparent that he has realised we are about to land . . . and is no longer catatonic.
More’s the pity.
Chapter 13
Despite the overblown title, the Grande Princess Royale Mar resort is a clean but uninspiring two and a half star hotel on the outskirts of Torremolinos. On the plus side, it
overlooks the Bajondillo beach, with a sweeping view of the mountains and sea. It’s early afternoon before we check in to the ‘family suite’ Emily, Cate and I are sharing. This
arrangement was organised by Marion, who was either oblivious to the fact that Cate and Will are an item, or wanted to make sure that the only exercise in which they indulged was dancing.
The room consists of one queen-sized bed and a bunk apparently pilfered from the set of
Orange Is the New Black
. We toss a coin and I end up on the top. A
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