Foreign Affairs (48 page)

‘Are you OK?’ Shay asked as tears glittered in her eyes. Brenda shook her head, unable to speak.

‘Come on. Let’s take a walk in the grounds,’ he murmured, leading her out through a side door. The breeze was cool against her hot cheeks, and in the dark Brenda bowed her head
and let the tears fall. Shay stood protectively in front of her with his arms around her.

‘She’ll be back from her honeymoon in two weeks,’ he tried to soothe her. ‘I suppose it’s a bit like a sister getting married. Is it?’

Brenda nodded, silently. At least Shay thought it was because of Kathy that she was crying. He hadn’t connected her tears to Eddie.

‘Don’t cry,’ he said kindly and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Any shoulder was better than none, even if it wasn’t Eddie Fagan’s.

‘I think I’d like to go home,’ she said shakily.

‘Right then, we’ll go so,’ Shay said briskly. He was mightily relieved that she wasn’t going to take him dancing in Leeson Street as she’d suggested earlier. He
wasn’t much of a dancer, discos weren’t his scene but Brenda really liked to boogie. A few hours on his own with her suited him down to the ground. He’d had enough socializing for
one day.

‘I’ll get your bag and stuff and tell your ma and da I’m taking you home, why don’t you sit in the car?’ Brenda nodded. They walked over to the car park and Shay
opened the door of his Ford Cortina. Wearily Brenda sat in and rested her head on the head rest. Her head was throbbing, but at least the ordeal was over. Brenda knew without a doubt that
Kathy’s wedding was one of the worst days of her life. All she wanted to do was to go to bed and blot it out of her mind for ever.

Chapter Forty-Three

‘You take your first tablet on the first day of your next period and continue taking them for twenty-one days. Then you take a break for seven days and after that you
start your next pack. Keep an eye on your weight and don’t smoke,’ the lady doctor in the Well Woman Centre instructed. Brenda nodded and slid the slim pack into her handbag.

‘If you’ve any problems come back to us. You’ve got to come back every six months to renew your prescription and to have a check-up. OK?’

‘Right, thanks,’ Brenda murmured. She was glad the ordeal of examination was over. It was the first time she’d had an internal examination and smear test. At least it had been
done by a lady doctor, she’d have died if it had been a man, she thought as she left the clinic. She ran up the steps onto Leeson Street and avoided the eyes of passers-by. Brenda was feeling
uncomfortable. She’d gone to the clinic to get on the contraceptive pill. The worry she’d endured when she’d been sleeping with Eddie was unforgettable. Never again would she put
herself through that trauma.

She saw a 13 bus heading across Leeson Street Bridge and raced across the street towards the bus stop. What a stroke of luck, at least she wouldn’t be hanging around for hours waiting for
a bus. She headed upstairs. There weren’t many other passengers on the bus, it was late evening, between the rush hour and the time when people started going into town. Settling back in her
seat she drew out the pill packet and studied the literature that accompanied it. She was a bit apprehensive about going on the pill. According to the contra-indications she could suffer headaches,
and perhaps a blood clot. Brenda was also feeling rather guilty. Pre-marital sex was a sin, according to the Church, and here she was, taking steps to prevent pregnancy and lead a life of
debauchery.

Well not a life exactly, she thought wryly. A fortnight would be a more accurate description. In two months’ time she was going on her first foreign holiday and if the chance to have a
foreign affair came her way, she was going to grab it. She’d listened to girls at work who had indulged in two weeks of passion with hunky sexy Spaniards. Being manless and almost twenty-four
was bad. Being celibate was a disaster. Sometimes it seemed to Brenda that everyone in the country except her was having a relationship.

The last time she’d had sex was with Eddie. She and Shay had never got that far. She’d broken it off with him three months after Kathy’s wedding. Much to his dismay. Shay was a
nice bloke, but she just wasn’t interested and that was the truth. If she couldn’t have Eddie, she didn’t want anyone, she’d decided. There had been a few casual dates with
other fellas but nothing that lasted. Now, she was almost twenty-four. Practically middle-aged. She was constantly thinking about sex. Brenda remembered her nights of passion with Eddie. If some
sexy Latin male in Puerto Carlos decided to seduce her, and she really fancied him, she had made up her mind to enjoy every minute of it. Hence the visit to the Well Woman Centre. Of course she
hadn’t told them she was going to have a foreign affair. They might think she was a slut. She’d fibbed and said she was getting engaged soon and wanted to be protected in case she and
her fiancé decided to sleep together. The doctor told her she was very sensible.

If only she knew, Brenda sighed as the bus conductor appeared at the top of the stairs and she shoved her bits and pieces back in her bag guiltily. Sensible wasn’t the word to describe
her. Horny was much more appropriate.

‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ moaned Joan Regan from the seat behind Brenda as the coach careered along a winding stretch of the Costa del Sol.

‘Here’s a sick bag,’ Brenda offered. She had taken the precaution of swiping a few from the plane. She felt a bit queasy herself. It was all that drinking. They’d spent
an hour in the bar at Dublin Airport lowering shorts and then they’d ordered drinks throughout the two and a half hour flight. She wasn’t used to drinking that much and the twisting and
turning of the coach wasn’t helping.

‘Be careful in the sun with those pale skins,’ the courier was saying from the top of the bus. ‘Use plenty of suntan lotion and don’t do too much sunbathing for the first
few days or you’ll end up like lobsters. Drink is very cheap here. San Miguel is the most popular beer. But be careful, you’ll get drunk a lot quicker on it because of the heat and
dehydration,’ the glamorous blonde cautioned. Brenda looked at her admiringly. Her skin was golden, her hair had lovely highlights that shone even in the subdued lighting of the coach. She
looked very healthy and athletic and had a terrific figure.

Brenda looked at her pale milky-white limbs. Having a tan invariably made you look better and she was going to take it easy and not get sunburned on her first few days. She settled back in her
seat and peered out the window. It was pitch-dark. All she could see was a swift blur of whitewashed or terracotta houses, their shutters closed against the night. She was dying to see what it was
like in daylight.

It had been incredibly exciting getting off the plane and feeling the cloying heat of a midsummer Spanish night. The sound of the crickets fascinated her. It was all so different . . . so
foreign
.

Brenda felt giddy and happy. The further the plane flew south, the giddier and happier she’d got. It seemed that all her mundane little problems fell far behind her.
This
was
living. Sipping drinks in airport lounges. Browsing through the duty-free. Treating yourself to perfumes and make-up. Brenda treated herself to a bottle of
Laughter
and some
Charlie
lipstick and matching nail varnish. She felt a bit like a film star, in her glamorous sunglasses and her white jeans and black T-shirt. She’d been nervous when the plane took
off but none of the others seemed to take much heed of it so she took her cue from them and relaxed.

She had been looking forward to this holiday for such a long time. Ever since the brochures had come out in January and four of them at work decided to take off together. They invited Brenda and
she invited her cousin Pamela. The excitement was mighty as they made their plans.

Three of them had been away on holidays before, but for Brenda and two of the others it was a totally new experience. She could hear Joan snoring behind her. Joan had never been abroad before
either and was even less used to drinking than Brenda was. She was pissed out of her skull.

‘Look at the sleeping beauty,’ giggled Tara across the aisle. Tara had been away several times and was a seasoned traveller and could hold her drink. Tara was one of the most
self-confident people Brenda had ever met. Even Bugs Bunny held no fears for Tara, who could put the pernickety supervisor down with ease.

‘As long as she doesn’t puke all over the place,’ grimaced Julia, who was sitting beside the comatose Joan.

Pamela nudged Brenda in the ribs. ‘That pair don’t get on the best, do they?’ she whispered.

‘Don’t mind them, they’re always arguing. At least we won’t have to put up with them. We’ve got our own studio apartment,’ she murmured. Because there were
six of them on the holiday, they had to split up. The other four were sharing a four-bed apartment, and Brenda and Pamela were to have an adjoining studio. Brenda was a bit disappointed that they
weren’t all together.

She and Pamela were given a tiny studio at the rear of the apartment block. The others were given an apartment in a completely separate complex because of overbooking. They were all furious.
Joan even roused herself from her stupor to mumble that if they weren’t put together she was going to sue. Then she sat on her suitcase and fell asleep again.

‘Look, I’ll fix you up all together tomorrow,’ the harassed courier assured Brenda and Pamela. ‘Just for tonight will you take the accommodation here and I’ll be
around first thing to get you moved.’ With bad grace, they agreed. It was three a.m. and they were too tired to argue.

‘This is a real pain in the ass,’ grumbled Brenda as she stared around the poky little studio. It had a sofa which doubled as a bed, underneath which was a small pull-out bed. Two
easy chairs, a small dining table and chairs, a kitchenette with a two-ring cooker, a fridge and a sink, comprised the rest of the contents. A tiled bathroom completed the accommodation. The Ritz
it most definitely was not!

‘Well what a dive,’ complained Pamela as she surveyed their abode.

‘Sorry about this,’ Brenda apologized, feeling dreadful. After all, she’d asked Pamela to come on holidays and this was what she’d found.

‘It’s not your fault, Bren. It was that smarmy little shit in the travel agency. Boy, is he going to get an earful from me when I get back home,’ Pamela fumed. ‘Come on,
let’s go to bed and tomorrow we’ll kick up a fuss until we’re put with the others,’ she declared, disappearing into the bathroom to wash her teeth. Two minutes later a
bloodcurdling shriek nearly gave Brenda a heart attack. Pamela flew out of the bathroom, babbling.

‘Brenda, there’s something
horrible
in the bath. It’s got huge eyes and a swivelly head and hundreds of legs. I . . . I’m not going in there again.’ Brenda
swallowed hard and patted her distraught cousin on the shoulder.

‘I’ll handle it, just let me find something to kill it with,’ she said dry-mouthed, her heart palpitating. This was not pan of the plan. Holidays were meant to be enjoyed. They
weren’t supposed to be dread-inducing ordeals. There was a mop beside the sink and, taking a deep breath, Brenda prepared to do battle.

Peering around the shower curtain, she could see the grotesque insect eyeing her balefully. She whacked the mop in the direction of its head and ran shrieking out of the bathroom when it flew up
into the air and started buzzing around. Frantically, Brenda slammed the bathroom door. ‘Oh God, I’m not going in there again,’ she jabbered hysterically. ‘It’s
huge!’

‘I’m bursting to go to the loo,’ wailed Pamela. Brenda groaned. Come to think of it so was she. She had a sudden brainwave.

‘There’s toilets down by the swimming-pool, I noticed them when the courier was bringing us here. We can go there.’

‘This is ridiculous!’ stormed Pamela as they walked along in the dark, towards the swimming-pool. The lighting was very poor when they eventually did reach the pool area. And the
toilets were in complete darkness.

Two very disgruntled young ladies finally lay down to go to sleep. They’d been asleep ten minutes or less when the occupants of the apartment above them arrived back home from a night out
and proceeded to have a party. This went on for about an hour and when silence at last descended, Brenda checked her watch and saw that it was five-thirty a.m. Fuming, she shoved her head under the
pillow and tried to go back to sleep.

They woke several hours later, heavy-headed and grumpy. ‘Let’s see what the place is like in daylight,’ Brenda suggested, trying to inject some holiday spirit into the strained
atmosphere. She felt a spark of excitement. She was looking forward to seeing the famous blue skies and sea of the Mediterranean. She flung open the dark green shutters. It was pouring rain!

Brenda couldn’t believe her eyes. Great sheets of rain from low-hanging lead-grey clouds pounded the roads and buildings. The sea, across the road, was as grey as the skies. The beach was
a dirty pallid brownish colour. To the west, behind low hills, deep rumbling peals of thunder accompanied spectacular sheets of purple-hued lightning. To think she’d spent a fortune to come
to Spain and escape from the rain at home. Life surely was a bitch, she sighed in disgust.

‘I think I’ll go back to bed,’ she told an equally crestfallen Pamela. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘No don’t,’ Pamela said, tousle-haired and bleary-eyed from her bed on the floor.’ Let’s be waiting for the courier in reception. We’ll take our luggage with
us. I’m not spending another minute in this hole.’

At this stage Brenda was too fed up to care. She dressed in the clothes she’d worn the previous day and, desperate for a pee, ventured gingerly into the bathroom. It was still there on the
wall by the ventilator, its swivel eyes gazing malevolently at her. She went to the loo and shot out the door. She’d wash her teeth and have a shower in their new apartment.

The girls sat at a table in a small bar facing reception so that they could pounce on the courier the minute she arrived. They were hungry and the waiter assured them that ‘The Big English
Breakfast’ was their speciality.