on holiday in a hot, sensual Mediterranean country like Greece. I’ve never been there so I can only imagine what it’s like. I have seen it on TV, though. Splashing around in the warm sea all day, sunbathing, visiting places of interest, sun tan oil, olive oil, exotic food washed down every evening with Retsina…
And it’s all going to be platonic. Two guys, one in a relationship back home and two girls who are probably single. Maybe they’re not single. Maybe they would tell their boyfriends or husbands that they were going on holiday to Greece with a couple of blokes, one of whom they hadn’t even met yet. What would a husband or boyfriend say to that? ‘Sure. Enjoy yourself. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Here’s five hundred pounds spending money. Here’s another thousand - get a boob job. Are you packing that really skimpy extreme micro bikini? I’ll go and find it for you. You look great in that. I love you.’
There are other alternatives, of course. The girls are single and want to work on their tan, get pissed up and have a well-deserved break from whatever. They might be hard-working secretaries or PAs. In the evening, they dress up and work their high heels, boobs and junk at some disco or other while Mark and Danny get completely hammered in the hotel bar and talk about old times or town planning. At the end of the evening, Danny falls in the hotel swimming pool fully dressed and Mark takes photos with his phone. They have a good laugh and that’s that. That would happen every night, obviously.
That scenario would explain why Danny didn’t want to go on his own without Callum. Two girls with one guy doesn’t work except in porn films. But what happens if the girls don’t pull? For some reason, I’m imagining that they both look like sexed-up versions of Angelia Jolie. What if they’re plain and dumpy? Would that be better or worse? Supposing they go out on the pull and no one pulls them? They stagger back to the hotel at three a.m. reeking of Vod-Bombs and the only two available males are Mark and Danny, both too pissed to know what they’re doing any more.
A few years ago, a friend of mine called Anna went on holiday to Tunisia for a few days with her best mate Wendy. Anna had affairs (polite term) with three different guys (separately, I think), but explained that it didn’t feel like she was being unfaithful to her bf Tim as he was really far away and it didn’t count. I’m sure Tim would have agreed wholeheartedly.
My eyelids are getting heavy. Mark has always talked about us going on holiday somewhere hot. It hasn’t happened because of me, I suppose. He’s always insistent that we go Dutch on everything, even splitting that damned shopping list item by item so everything’s fair. We’ve never had a row about it or anything. Never even spoken about it to any great degree, but sometimes I think to myself that Mark would be better off with a richer girlfriend. Someone whose bank account he could respect. Someone who he could invest in things with.
As I finally start to drop off to sleep I start thinking all sorts of stupid thoughts. You’re thirty-two, you’re a failed artist and your boyfriend is going on holiday to Greece with a couple of tarts and their pimp. You’ve always wanted to go to Greece, haven’t you? Go on – admit it. All that culture. You’re just jealous. You’re jealous of everybody. You are Mrs Jealous of Jealousyville. You’re even jealous of Danny. Danny Crump. Danny Crump and his bicycle pump. Top bloke, real laugh and town planner. Danny Crump’s embarrassing lump.
Saturday 14th
I wake up and, without opening my eyes, reach across for Mark, but he’s not there. This is unusual. On Saturday he lazes about in bed for as long as he can, while I do most of the tedious housework stuff. I check the time on my alarm clock. It’s 7.44. I can smell coffee and I can hear faint tapping on a computer keyboard. So he’s got up and made himself some coffee without making me one. Well, somehow I’m not surprised. I lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling, until my brain starts to function properly. I only had about half a bottle of wine last night, but that’s enough to give me a slight hangover. My