Authors: Marisa Mackle
to
swim because she would only ruin her blow-dry from the day before! Eh, okay!
We went for dinner that night in the hotel. There was a
huge buffet and you could help yourself to whatever food you wanted. I took this as a huge opportunity to fill my plate with as much salad stuff as I could. Tanya did the same. I declined the wine menu, but I cracked when it came to dessert. I just couldn’t resist the dessert trolley!
After dinner we retired to the hotel bar and I put John
down into his pram.
“We’ll just have the one, maybe,” I said. “I don’t
want to keep John awake too late and mess up his sleep pattern. We can sit outside by the pool area. It’s nice at night when it’s lit up and all the fairy lights are in the trees.”
“Okay,” Tanya agreed pleasantly as we took our
seats outside. I ordered a brandy and Sprite and Tanya asked for a sparkling water. John was happy with his little teddy, playing in his pram beside us. None of the other punters took a bit of notice of us as they listened to a man in a tuxedo play the piano. I loved the way the entertainment at the hotel was low-key and they didn’t have very loud music or flamenco dancers strutting their stuff in the evenings, like they do in some hotels. It was very mellow and just a nice way to wind down after dinner.
The waiter was quick with our drinks and gave John
a little smile as he served us.
“Isn’t it refreshing the way the Spanish are so family
friendly?” I remarked to Tanya after he had gone to serve the next table. “We haven’t had so much as a disapproving look from anyone. And do you remember earlier on when I was trying to get the pram up the steps and about three Spanish men rushed over to help? I must say I’m very impressed.”
“It’s very nice, yes,” said Tanya, fiddling with her
long blonde ponytail. She looked an absolute vision tonight as she took the sun well. She had a slight tan already and we were barely twenty-four hours in the place. I could only imagine the mahogany colour she would be by the end of the week!
Tonight she wore a short black lace dress and black
sparkly kitten heels. I thought she was a little overdressed for a three-star family hotel in Torremolinos but I didn’t say anything to her. It was nice that she had made an effort to dress up and look her best and I was actually proud of her. She knew how to turn heads. I had noticed that on the beach and on the streets. People couldn’t take their eyes off her.
We listened to about three golden oldies on the piano
before John started acting up a bit, throwing his teddy out of the pram. I didn’t want him to cause a scene or start shouting over the piano guy so I stood up. “I think I’ll take John upstairs,” I said. “I’d better do it before he gets cranky. But listen, if you want to stay down a little longer and listen to the piano, feel free, I don’t mind.”
“Okay,” said Tanya, not budging.
I wasn’t sure if that meant okay, she was going to stay down here, or okay she was coming upstairs.
“Will we see you later then?” I ventured.
“Probably not. I’m going to take a taxi to Puerto Banus and I’ll go clubbing a bit there – meet some people.”
She could have knocked me down with a feather, I
was that surprised. Puerto Banus of all places!
“I didn’t think you knew anyone on the Costa del
Sol?”
“That’s right, I don’t,” she said with a little smile.
“But hey, I’ll meet new people. Isn’t that what holidays are for?”
And so we said our goodbyes. I headed upstairs to
bath my baby and put him to bed while Tanya was heading to the port to mingle with the party people. No wonder she had dressed up to the nines that evening! Suddenly I felt very old and boring. The next morning I got up fairly late. When I emerged from my room I noticed the sofa bed was empty again. I wondered whether Tanya had come home at all and I was a teeny bit worried. After all, I did feel responsible for her. Yes, she was an adult but I was the one who had brought her here on holidays, out of her comfort zone. But I needn’t have worried at all because the next minute she came bouncing in again with warm croissants and more water and juice.
“That’s the second time you’ve missed the breakfast
downstairs,” she said, wagging her finger at me jokingly. “Tomorrow I must insist that we all go down together, at least to see what it’s like.”
“But they stop serving at ten,” I protested. “I mean,
who wants to set their alarm on holidays? Not I! Did you have a good time last night by the way?”
“Yeah, it was good. The port was packed!
So many people. I met some guys who were having a party on one of the big yachts and I joined them. It was great but I was back here by two so I don’t feel tired really.”
The joys of not drinking, I thought sombrely. You
could pack so much more into your life if you cut out the dreaded booze.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I’m not going to join you
for dinner in the hotel this evening as I’ve been invited for dinner in Marbella. You don’t mind, do you?”
I was quite taken aback. This had come from
nowhere. I didn’t know what to think. “No,” I said after a moment’s pause, “no, of course I don’t mind, Tanya.
But it’s going to cost a lot of money taking taxis to and
from Marbella every night if you keep this up! You do realise that, don’t you?”
“Don’t worry. I have a lift for tonight anyway! One
of the guys I met last night is picking me up. He says he might even take me shopping in Puerto Banus. I do hope so. I discovered an amazing little Armani boutique on the port. I had a look in the window last night and saw the most amazing boots. They’re to die for!”
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “Okay,
but stay safe. Phone me any time you need to, okay? But naturally your free time is your free time, so if you want to go out that’s absolutely fine with me.”
“Great – thanks so much!” she said, bright-eyed.
“Now, will we go back down to the beach again today? Or will we take it easy and just sit by the pool? You decide. If you like I can take John downstairs to the kiddies’ club in the basement where they have lots of soft toys to play with and a little ball-crawl. Babies can go in – as long as an adult stays with them, of course.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks. If you take John to the kids’
club, I can do a few laps of the pool and maybe read some of my book in peace. I appreciate it.”
“Hey,” she said, “it’s your holiday! This is all about
you having fun and relaxing. Remember, this is all about
yo
u
.”
How weird, I remember thinking to myself as I went
to wake Baby John up from his deep slumber. If it’s all about me, then why did it really not feel like that at all?
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Oh my God, I’m so broke after the holidays it isn’t even
funny! Not that I regret going on holidays even for a second. We had a wonderful time and it was so relaxing if a little bit boring at night. But hey, when you have kids you make sacrifices. Your life changes forever. Did I feel a slight pang of envy every night when Tanya went out clubbing in a different sexy outfit? Yes, a little bit, but credit where credit was due, her partying did not impact on her work one tiny bit, and she was great company for me. I honestly don’t think I could have managed with John on my own.
But yes, I’m down to my last fifty quid now
.
Yikes
!
I am just counting the days until pay day. It can’t come quickly enough. Okay, so I know modern mummies never have enough money, but this is the first time in living memory that I feel truly poor! Unlike our grandmothers who used to darn the family socks, regularly cut out savings coupons, and spend a week in a caravan in Ireland somewhere for the annual holidays, living economically does not come so easily to us modern Irish. My idea of saving the socks is not throwing them out every few weeks. That’s what I used to do. The extravagance of it! Every now and then I would gather up a huge lot of odd socks, chuck them in the bin and then replace the lot with brand new ones. Now I wash the socks and dry them and put them back in the drawer. Mind you, I can’t ever see the day where I will actually take out a sock from my drawer and start working on it diligently with a needle and thread. And I can’t ever see myself fussing at the top of the check-out queue with discount tokens for the groceries either.
My granny, God rest her soul, lived through two wars.
Her kitchen was always stacked with non-perishable goods such as tins of fruit. I presume that was because she feared the arrival of another war. She never wore her good shoes at home. She had slippers for walking around the house and the good shoes were kept in a box and were routinely brought to the cobblers when in need of maintenance. She never cooked without an apron. That was to save her clothes. I, on the other hand, don’t wear an apron and can’t think of a single friend who does. In my grandmother’s house there was no fancy tinned food for the dog and as far as I remember he was happy enough with leftovers from the dinner. I don’t ever recall him going to a beauty parlour either. He was washed down with soap and a bucket of water whether he liked it or not. I suppose we could learn a lot from the way our grandmothers lived. They filed their own nails instead of going to nail salons and I doubt they ever messed around with streaky fake tan. During the summers they would swim in the real sea instead of spending a hundred euro on a seaweed bath or a mud bath in a fancy spa. They were healthier too. For a start they cooked proper meals from scratch and that’s why their cooking was always so great. None lived in apartments so they had gardens to grow fresh produce. And very few were overweight as far as I can see from old photographs. Everybody always seems thin in old sepia photos. But I suppose back then they didn’t have fast-food chains and people didn’t drink wine with their dinner, and a glass of champagne was something only to be enjoyed at a wedding. Also, families were much larger back then so there wouldn’t have been as much to go around. And because so few people had cars everybody walked everywhere and kept fit. There was no such thing as disposable nappies back in our grandmothers’ day and cloth nappies were washed by hand as there were no washing machines. But, you know, no matter how bad the recession gets, I can never see myself doing this. God forbid! Nor can I ever see myself tending to the garden with a non-electric lawnmower, or swapping my beloved electric blanket for a woolly bed-jacket and hat. However, like everybody else, I must be realistic. I no longer order cocktails on a night
out
, I no longer buy shoes that are impossible to walk in but look nice, and I write a list when going grocery shopping, which is funny because I used to secretly feel sorry for people clutching lists in supermarkets as I would happily fill my trolley with wild abandon. Now I swear by lists. They save me indulging. Like once I realised that two small tubs of sun-dried tomatoes equalled a week’s worth of nappies, the decade-long relationship between
sun
-dried tomatoes and myself came to an abrupt end. Oh, well. I don’t think I ever really liked them anyway. The morning I was going back to work I walked into the kitchen and caught sight of something so exquisite it almost took my breath away.
“Wow, what a stunning bag!” I exclaimed out loud.
I ran my fingers over the soft buttery leather beige Chanel bag sitting on my pristine clean kitchen counter and found them circling the interlocking double silver Cs. I have always wanted a Chanel bag and, heavens
above
, this was love at first sight.
“Oh, thanks,” said Tanya with a smile. “I like it too!”
She was sitting on the sofa with John on her knee, looking like a supermodel with her long blonde hair swept off her face, accentuating her high cheekbones. She wore skinny blue jeans, black knee-high suede boots and a floaty lace white top. She looked like she could be the wife of a jet setting millionaire instead of a childminder. Once again I tried not to pinch myself.
“Where did you get it?” I asked. I knew the price of
Chanel bags and I couldn’t get my head around how Tanya would be able to afford one.
“It was a present . . . from a friend,” she said, looking
at John, not me. “Do you really like it?”
“Yes, I love it. It is a dream of mine to own a Chanel
bag one day. But that day seems very far away right now, unfortunately. And this is one of the nicer ones. It’s like a work of art.”
Tanya sat John up on her knee and burped him. “Good
boy,” she cooed. Then she looked up at me and smiled. “You can borrow it sometime if you like.”
“Thanks, that’s very kind of you. I think I would be
afraid to borrow it though just in case something happened to it.”