Destination Thailand

‘Hmm. Well, we’re just glad to have you both back in one piece. I couldn’t cope over there with that foreign food and UV factors. No, much better to stick with what you know.’ My mum shook her head, looking queasy at the thought of a dodgy dim sum.

‘I don’t know, love.’ My dad turned to my mum. ‘They say travelling is a great soul enricher.’

‘Ha,’ she snorted, ‘a soul enricher! Well, you tell me that when she’s lying in some third world hospital after eating a steak that turned out to be a rabid dog. The muggings, the rapes, the murders. Oh no, I’m much happier she’s staying here. She couldn’t cope with all that.’ She wafted her hand around.

It was as if those things didn’t happen in the UK – well, maybe not the dog steak – although the kebab shop by Marie’s did smell a little dodgy at times. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ I mumbled.

‘Oh Georgia,’ she sighed, ‘you’ve been in a pickle here, but you can’t just up and leave. What about your job, your friends…us? I think you’re being ridiculous. You’re 28 years old and have had a bit of a shock, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean running away and leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.’ She looked appalled at the thought.

We sat in an awkward silence. Thankfully Marie understood that situations like these were not the time or the place for a heated disagreement, no matter how much she was chomping at the bit to stick up for me.

‘Well, I think it’s a cracking idea, love,’ my dad grinned, breaking the stifling atmosphere. ‘Before I met your mother, me and a couple of mates had a lot of fun interrailing around Europe. May not seem that exotic now, but we got up to some right adventures on that trip.’ He sighed wistfully, lost in a faded memory. Before he could get any more nostalgic, my mum swiftly dug a sharp elbow into his arm that signalled him to stop encouraging their daughter.

‘Well, it was just that. A silly idea, so don’t worry.’ I stared pleadingly at Marie to move the conversation on before my mum collapsed, but she was fiddling with a sachet of sugar, no doubt sulking that I’d ridiculed her travel wish-list plan. ‘So, how did you spend Saturday?’ I asked as breezily as I could, knowing that Alex hadn’t just hurt me when he’d called off our wedding. My mum had been bragging about it for months to anyone and everyone we knew. There’s going to be a chocolate fountain, a harpist and even rumours that Kate Middleton’s going to show up, I mean can you imagine?!

‘We just had a quiet day; the weather was very poor so we pottered around the house. The photos would’ve been awful with the grey skies, love,’ my dad said.

‘I guess. Did Marie tell you I gave him back my key last night? Well, not to him personally. I don’t even want to think about hearing from him again,’ I babbled, feeling that ache in my stomach at leaving our house last night claw at me.

My parents quickly fixed their gaze deep into the bottom of their cups, my mum shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘What?’ I asked, as confusion rose in my voice.

Her pale blue eyes filled with tears. ‘We need to give you this letter, Georgia. It’s from him.’ My mum slowly pulled a sealed envelope out of her handbag. ‘Your dad…well, he sort of asked him to write it.’

I rubbed at my forehead. ‘What? I don’t understand. Why would you be speaking to him? When did you speak to him?’ Marie looked as clueless as I did. My dad was tearing up pieces of the paper napkin under his shortbread, avoiding my stare, getting buttery fingers and crumbs everywhere.

‘Your dad found out some news that’s…quite upsetting. We only discovered this after you left to go to Turkey and we didn’t want to ruin your week away by telling you,’ my mum said blinking quickly.

Something was scratching my throat, my mouth had gone really dry but I’d already finished my cup of coffee. ‘Mum, you’re scaring me now.’

‘OK, well please don’t get too upset. So, your dad was picking up a few bits for tea from Morrison’s –you know we usually prefer to go to Asda, but it was on his way back from that new Homebase they’ve built down Larkberry Lane so he decided to stop there.’

‘OK…’ I willed her to speed things along, knowing it was unlikely given that her normal conversations involved describing things in inane detail, usually to do with a friend of a friend that I’d never met or heard of even though my mum was adamant I knew them.

‘Well, as he hadn’t been to this store before he wasn’t sure of the layout, and whilst walking down one of the aisles looking for blueberries, for a flan I was making for the church fete, he saw Alex…and that tart.’ She pursed her lips as if someone had just passed wind.

The thought of them doing mundane things like food shopping made my stomach drop. So they were together then. It wasn’t just ‘feelings’ he had developed or a drunken quickie. That explained why our, no probably their, house was so spotless. There must have been a new woman’s touch to the place. My stomach clenched like it did when I tried on skinny jeans in the January sales, squeezing in that extra roll of flab from devouring a whole tin of Quality Street.

My mum leaned over the coffee table and lowered her voice. ‘The other thing is they were stood in the baby care aisle looking at…nappies.’

I heard Marie take a sharp intake of breath. It took a moment for this all to click.

‘She’s pregnant, Georgia,’ my dad said sadly.

His words swam around me; I felt like I was in that stage between dreaming and waking, where you kind of know where you are, but everything doesn’t feel real. I could hear them loudly whispering to each other.

‘I knew we should have told her earlier.’ ‘No, you said to keep it quiet until the baby was born.’ ‘What the actual fuck?’ (That last one was Marie who looked as gobsmacked as I must have done, ignoring my mum’s shock at her potty mouth.)

‘How…how pregnant is she?’ I eventually managed to spit out.

‘Well, your dad’s no expert and I haven’t seen her, but Denise Williams, who works on reception at the doctors, said she’d seen her recently and she looked about five or six months gone,’ my mum said gripping my hands, that were now shaking.

The receptionist at Alex’s work, Stephanie something or other, for whom he had ended our relationship, was pregnant.

‘Wait, what’s in that letter?’ I was suddenly horribly aware of other diners staring at us. My dad prised the letter out of my mum’s grip and leaned forward, placing his hand on my knee and passing it to me.

‘I didn’t know what to do. I was so angry at him, after all these years treating him as part of the family and to do this to you. I just lost my rag. I marched over to him demanding answers and he started to make excuses and moved her out of the way. So I…swung for him.’

I gaped open-mouthed like a guppy fish. My dad punched someone! Not just someone, but my ex-fiancé! My dad, the kindest softest man I knew, had a hidden feisty Rocky Balboa inside his calm shell. I didn’t know what was more surprising.

‘I’m not proud of it and violence is never an answer but I just saw red.’ He looked at the floor, shamefaced. ‘This spotty security guard saw the commotion and marched me out of the store as Alex ran over to apologise and explain to the jumped-up teenager that he didn’t want to go to the police. It was there that I told him in no uncertain terms that I wanted the house paperwork to be fast-tracked, that he would make sure you received your share quickly and that it was highly favourable to you. I want him out of your life and thought by getting everything ready it would help. He’s nothing but trouble and I truly believe you’ve had a lucky escape.’ He paused for breath, having worked himself up retelling this tale.

‘Go Len!’ Marie shouted, almost high-fiving him.

I opened the envelope in a daze. Official bank and mortgage forms tumbled out. In a formal letter stating which document I needed to sign in order for Alex to buy me out, money I guessed that would be coming from the bank of his mum and dad, he added how sorry he was, but it was for the best that we not contact each other again. I didn’t know what to say.

‘He also sent us a copy so I could see what you were coming back to and that he didn’t try to get you back. He’s made his bed and now he needs to lie in it. I’ve looked over the bank’s terms on the house and the money you’ll get back is above the price you should have got. I just tried to protect you. I’m so sorry, Georgie.’ My dad looked like he was close to tears. Marie just sat there grinning, shaking her head in disbelief that someone had finally punched Alex. I let the news sink in as my mum rushed to the ladies’ room in a fluster. The sudden silence was filled with the dulcet tones of James Blunt playing out of the speakers above our heads.

I was suddenly reminded of an out-of-the-ordinary night a few months ago. Alex had taken me to dinner in this new restaurant in town, he’d just received a bonus at work and wanted to treat me, something that hadn’t happened in ages. We drank cocktails in a bar which overlooked the whole of the city, ate melt-in-your-mouth steaks with all the trimmings, followed by the best tiramisu I’d ever tasted. Embarrassingly, I’d even considered running to the kitchen to persuade the chef to let me have the recipe so that I could pass it to our wedding caterers. The wine flowed and we’d actually had a few non wedding-related conversations as he uncharacteristically showered me with clunky compliments. I remembered that his phone had seemed to buzz more than usual as it lay on the white linen tablecloth, but he took my hand and dismissed it as a problem with work, not even glancing to look at the persistent caller before placing it back in his pocket.

The alcohol had affected my thinking; Alex works for an accountancy firm, which doesn’t open at weekends, let alone 9.30pm on a Saturday night. It must have been her. Maybe she had just taken the test; maybe those two blue positive lines had just appeared. The start of a new life and little did I know, the end of ours.

I massaged my temples as my mum reappeared. Glancing down at her watch she gave her husband a sympathetic look: ‘We have to be going soon to get your dad to this appointment. They fine you if you’re late.’

‘Oh OK.’ I looked at their faces, creased with worry and pain for their only child. I remembered when Alex and I had got engaged (retelling the fake story of course); smiles all round, Cava corks popping and wedding chatter over the dinner table. They were so pleased that I was settling down and was being taken care of by a good man from a wealthy family. As parents they couldn’t have wished for more for their only daughter, even if I knew at times that they felt inferior compared to the very different social circles that his parents mixed in. My dad had shrugged it off, telling me they didn’t need to be bezzie mates with my in-laws, just as long as I was happy, and that hopefully longed-for grandchildren wouldn’t be far behind. Another disappointment.

‘You going to be OK, pet?’ my dad asked.

I shook myself together and plastered on a pathetic smile. ‘Sure. I’m fine. Like you’ve all said, I’ve had a lucky escape. Better to be a jilted bride than a divorcee at 28, eh?’ My joke fell flat as my dad gave me another bear hug.

‘You deserve better than him. This will be the making of you I’m sure of it. Look after yourself, kid,’ he whispered as tears pricked my eyes.

‘I will, Dad. Good luck at your appointment. I’ll call you later.’ I waved them off, my mum’s heels clacking on the tiled floor as she brushed the crumbs from the sleeve of my dad’s jumper.

‘Shit, I can’t believe it, what a bloody bombshell.’ Marie shook her head, flicking through Alex’s official papers which now had coffee ring stains on them. ‘Still, imagine his mum’s face when he comes clean about an illegitimate grandchild, they certainly won’t like that at the polo club.’ She looked up at my pale face. ‘Sorry. But you have to admit Ruthless Ruth will be having kittens at this. Right, I’m going to get a later train as we need a drink, or retail therapy or both.’

I let out a deep sigh. ‘No, no, don’t do that. You can’t be late for your new role, as much as a vat of vodka has my name on it I’m not going to be jumping off into the nearest canal or anything. Have a safe journey and call me when you get there, OK?’

Marie nodded uncertainly. ‘You sure? I really don’t want to leave you after that.’

‘Positive. He’s managed to screw up enough things and your acting career is not going to be one of them.’

‘You sure you don’t want to track him down and give him a piece of your mind?’ she asked, looking fired up for a fight. When we were in Turkey she’d tried to teach me how to master snappy comebacks and fierce confrontation, an area that I was useless at. I’d always leave a fight kicking myself over the things that I should have said. Marie had even written down a list of blush-inducing insults, telling me I needed to be confident, stay calm, and that above all ‘If you hesitate, you lose. Think like Eminem in his 8 Mile rap battle.’ She’d gone into acting-teacher mode, telling me to see confrontation as an invite to play then walk away with dignity, firmly instructing me that under no circumstances was I ever to repeat what the other person had said in a funny voice.

I’d tried coming up with my own putdowns including the corker: ‘Have you been on holiday to Greece, as you’re so greasy,’ but even I could tell that wasn’t going to be a classic. She’d even made me download the word a day app, hoping to extend my vocabulary with feisty retorts. But I was nowhere near ready to go all Slim Shady on Alex’s ass, my thoughts were too twisted up to be able to condense what I wanted to say to him into an eloquent put-down. Realising what a lost cause I was Marie had changed tactics, asking, ‘What’s the most powerful way of getting a man’s attention or driving him wild?’

I looked at her blankly.

‘Ignoring him. Moving on. Silent but deadly,’ she said wisely, ignoring my protests that that was also the name of a fart. Unfortunately, I had to agree with her. Realising that if Alex was getting on with his life then I had to get on with mine, I suddenly knew exactly where I needed to go.