what he likes. If I’d had to go on a holiday like this at short notice, I’d probably have spent something like the same amount. In fact, I’d probably have spent more on clothes and beachwear than he has, and I’d have bought a couple of micro bikinis, items which I know he would never have bought. I’ve never had a micro bikini. I wonder if I’d have to get a Brazilian? I think I would.
I’m sweaty. When we get back I’m going straight in the shower. I’ve still got the taste of that horrible toffee muffin in my mouth. I’ve got a splitting headache. Mark is humming happily to himself.
Sunday 15th
Well, today’s the day. I sit down, staring out of the window, sipping a coffee, but really I’m watching Mark out of the corner of my eye. He got all his stuff together last night but is leaving it until today to actually pack his suitcase. Predictably, he’s having trouble closing it. He’s also faffing about with what to with the stuff in his new carry-on bag. He wants to put all the books he bought in it, because he still can’t make his mind up which one of them he wants to read on the flight over.
I tell him to pick the two most likely and to put the other four in his suitcase. He has two jumpers in his suitcase and a sweatshirt. I tell him if he took those out and put the books in, he’d be able to close the suitcase. The likelihood of him needing a jumper in Greece at this time of year is remote; the average temperature is about 28 degrees. If he gets there and he’s in the middle of a blizzard, then he can go and buy a woolly coat in a shop or something. To be honest, I’m a little sick of giving him advice now. He’s lucky that Danny is dealing with all the money, as he’d never had had time yesterday to sort out traveller’s cheques and local currency.
Callum, before his tragic drunken idiot bike accident, had paid Danny to get him all the tedious money stuff (sensible boy!), so all Mark has to do is to give a cheque to Danny, which he will then give to Callum. The cheque, it goes without saying, would be written out to Callum. Does that sound too complicated for a banking lecturer? Well it was.
Mark was fretting about Danny and/or Callum ripping him off with the exchange rates and bank charges for using cheques or something like that. It’s as if even thinking about money makes Mark go all edgy and weird, although he seemed to be OK yesterday when he was treating himself to about seven hundred pounds worth of holiday goodies. What is it about guys and money? Why is it so important? Is it fear of uncertainty in a baffling, confusing world or something? Crippling insecurity combined with the conviction that everyone is trying to work you over? Did he get it from his parents? Who knows.
‘I’m not sure about these flip flops now.’
‘Well, it’s too late. You’ve bought them now. You’ll probably hardly wear them anyway.’
‘Maybe I can pick up another pair at the airport. It’s just that these ones feel scratchy when you put them on.’
‘Did you try them on your bare feet in the shop?’
‘No.’
‘Then, sweetie, you only have yourself to blame!’
His voice changes. It’s suddenly petulant and mean.
‘You’re really uptight about me going on this holiday, aren’t you.’
‘What brought that on?’
‘Just then. Having a go at me about the flip flops.’
‘How was I having a go at you?’
‘You were blaming me for buying a pair I hadn’t tried on, but everyone knows that nobody tries on flip flops in the shop.’
‘I do.’
‘Well of course you do. Little Miss Perfect.’
‘Oh, fuck off Mark.’
As you can imagine, the atmosphere in the car on the way to the airport was not filled with deliciously sparkling wit and light-hearted repartee. I’m holding the steering wheel so tightly that I’m worried it might come off in my hands.
I thought I’d be a little nervous or angry or intimidated when I finally met Mark’s holiday chums, but by the time we got to Heathrow I was in a far more balanced state of mind. Mark and I are both adults. Someone asked him to help them out by taking the place of a friend who, though no fault of his own, was no longer able to join them