Page 54 of Never Gonna Happen

‘Oh, good lord,’ said Carol. ‘What else is there?’

‘Mr Hunter is going on a trip on Friday,’ said Emily, ‘and he’s asked me and Jamie to go with him.’

‘What kind of trip?’ Carol asked suspiciously, clearly still convinced that Mr Hunter was some kind of East Anglian drug kingpin.

‘He’s going to look at a hotel. He’s thinking of investing in it.’

‘He should come and look round here,’ said Martin affably. ‘There are some lovely hotels that could do with a bit of cash.’

‘Where is it, Moo?’ asked Carol. ‘The hotel?’

Emily took a deep breath. ‘It’s in Mauritius.’

Martin’s pint froze on the way to his mouth. ‘Where the bloody hell’s Mauritius?’

‘It’s in the Indian Ocean.’

Carol’s eyes were on stalks. ‘You’re flying there? How long will that take?’

‘About twelve hours.’

‘Twelve hours?’ squawked Martin. ‘You’re going to be on a plane for twelve hours? Each way?’

‘I’ve seen pictures of Mauritius. Remember, Martin?’ said Carol. ‘Linda went there on her third honeymoon, she showed us the photos.’

‘Linda went on three honeymoons?’ asked Kelly, revelling in the drama.

‘Well, she’s been married three times,’ Carol explained. ‘I think the first honeymoon was in Hove and the second in Llandudno, so she’s come a long way. How long are you going for, Moo?’

‘A week,’ said Emily, relieved that this was all finally out in the open. And excited, having said it out loud. I’m going to Mauritius on Friday. I’ve ordered a bikini and a sarong from a fancy swimwear website and Kelly’s going to trim my hair tomorrow. I’m off on a big adventure.

Emily sat on the bench with her mum, watching Kelly dance with her dad. The band were good, with a female lead vocalist who could really sing. Right now she was doing a very decent job of ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, and the place was heaving with writhing bodies. Kelly was giving it both barrels as usual, her scarlet hair flying as she waved her arms around her head and twirled her hips in Martin’s direction. He looked slightly terrified but was gamely trying to keep up.

‘Hey, Emma. It is Emma, isn’t it?’ Plague Syphilis had appeared in front of their table, clutching a pint and an unlit cigarette.

‘Emily,’ she replied. ‘Close enough.’

‘You look hot,’ he said, swaying a little on his feet with an appreciative ogle. Emily assumed this was a compliment, although you never knew with men around here. There was always a possibility he was telling her she looked a bit pink and sweaty. ‘Do you fancy a dance?’ he added, even though he could barely stand.

‘I can’t, sorry,’ she said cheerfully. ‘My mum can’t be left alone, it’s a condition of her day release.’

The man glanced at Carol, who crossed her eyes and bared her teeth, then snapped at him like a rabid dog. He nodded awkwardly and scurried off.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Emily.

‘No trouble,’ said Carol. ‘Look at the state of those two.’ She nodded at Kelly and Martin, who were now doing some kind of tango to Cheryl Cole’s ‘Fight For This Love’. She rested her head on Emily’s shoulder and did a tiny burp.

‘Have you had a good birthday party?’ asked Emily.

‘Epic, thank you.’

‘Sorry about all the news.’

Carol sighed. ‘It’s fine.’

Emily turned to look at her. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

Carol took another swig of wine and gave Emily a watery smile. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just being daft.’