Page 4 of Take a Chance on Greece

‘I meant a coffee, not booze,’ said Kat. ‘And I’m afraid you are very much awake. We didn’t hold you down and force the liquid down your throat. Whatever Jim thinks, you are a grown woman and perfectly capable of making your own choices and decisions.’ Her tone softened. ‘Look, I know you don’t mean it and you’re really upset right now, but this isn’t the best way of handling it. While we’d all love to check out of reality and continue our Greek holiday, we have lives we need to get back to. Besides, I don’t think the driver would take too kindly to you living on his bus for the rest of time.’ She laughed. ‘Bloody hell, it’s a sorry state of affairs when I’m turning into the voice of reason. Come on now, things will look better once you’ve had a proper breakfast.’

Begrudgingly, I allowed myself to be led off the bus and into the terminal building. I felt vulnerable among the crowds, wary of someone bumping into me and making my back sting. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, no, not talking, shouting, which set my head throbbing again. I’d have been grateful for the noise if it had distracted me from my tattoo-induced terror, but it just made me feel even worse. Even though my newly acquired skin art was hidden beneath my clothing, I was so conscious of its presence that I feared everyone around me must be aware of it too, as if there was a giant arrow pointing at it. Every time someone smiled, I cringed, convinced that they were laughing at my situation.

I could barely concentrate as we went through the process of the security checks, and my dazed manner must have made me appear suspicious because I got selected for an extra pat down by a guard who ignored my pleas to be gentle when she reached my back. I supposed I should have been grateful that it didn’t extend into a strip search. The fewer people who saw my stupid new tattoo, the better.

Chapter Three

Despite Kat’s promise that breakfast would solve everything, funnily enough, the spinach and feta miniature pie which I managed to force down did not bring with it the answer to all my problems, although it did make me feel slightly more human. Amira and Kat tried to help me to remember the inspiration behind the inking, but I still drew a blank. For all I knew, the ‘Andreas’ could be the name of the tattooist himself. Or perhaps it could be nobody in particular. Maybe I had pointed at a stock image in my drunken state. I still couldn’t understand why I would have done such a thing.

We managed to switch seats on the aircraft and sit together, but despite our collective brainpower, the best solution we could come up with for my predicament was covering the tattoo with a bandage and hoping for the best. It didn’t exactly fill me with confidence. My face must have said as much because Kat offered another of her nuggets of wisdom.

‘Don’t overthink it, Lydia. Tell him you caught your back on the swimming pool wall, and if he asks more questions, distract him with some sexy lingerie and he’ll forget he ever noticed the bandage,’ she said. ‘You’d be amazed at the number of times a good pair of pants have got me out of a pickle, trust me. Besides, you’re moving in with him. Sexy knickers will help keep the magic alive when you’ve been bickering over whose turn it is to put the bins out.’

Privately, I thought Jim would be more startled by me suddenly starting to wear sexy lingerie than he would by the appearance of a bandage wrapped around my torso. But at this stage I was willing to give anything a try, so when we landed back in the UK, I did a detour to the duty-free shop on my way to the baggage collection and picked out a couple of sets of extremely uncomfortable-looking lacy concoctions. I felt like a massive imposter in the shop, as if all the other customers could tell that I was at heart more of a comfy pants kind of girl, but I told myself that if I could get a spontaneous tattoo, then surely I could have the gumption to style out a red push-up bra and French knickers.

Amira utilised her many years of medical training to make sure the bandage was firmly fixed over the offending inking, and then I stood in the baggage hall and listened to a pep talk from my friends in which they promised over and over again that everything would be absolutely fine, while having absolutely no basis for their assertions.

I was starting to wonder whether I could be like the Tom Hanks character inThe Terminaland live out the rest of my days in the baggage reclaim when my phone bleeped. My stomach flipped as I read the message.

‘Oh my goodness, Jim’s here. He’s come to pick us up so we don’t have to find a taxi or get the bus back.’

Normally I would have been touched by his thoughtful gesture and relieved to avoid the immediate post-holiday low of having to scrabble for transport home, but I had been relying on the journey to give me extra thinking time.

‘He can be a sweetie sometimes,’ said Kat.

I felt even more guilty at the secret I was nursing.

The phone bleeped again.

‘He’s not gone into the short-stay car park because they’ve started charging for it, and he’s in a layby over the road, so he says we need to get a wiggle on, or he might get a fine.’

I set off at the quickest pace I could muster while dragging my rather heavy suitcase. I’d gone a bit overboard buying presents for Jim from Kefalonia airport in a bid to assuage my conscience.

Kat and Amira scurried in my wake, grumbling between themselves as if I was out of hearing.

‘And lo, normality returns, a classic Jim move,’ muttered Kat. ‘How does he think we’re going to get our suitcases across the dual carriageway? And I bet you the short-stay car park will only be about three quid, and he wouldn’t think twice about paying that for a coffee, so why can’t he pay out now? Typical stingy so-and-so.’

‘Come on, Kat, it’ll be easier than fighting for public transport,’ replied Amira quietly. ‘And we can give Lydia some moral support. Knowing her, she’ll blurt out about the tattoo the second she sees him. You know how she is with him. At least we can be on hand to pick up the pieces.’

Determined to prove my friends wrong, I started rehearsing my greeting to Jim in my head so that I didn’t fall into the trap which they thought I would. Jim and I had been together long enough to know all of each other’s little habits, and just like I could tell from the way he put his key in my door that he’d stopped for a pint with his mates on his way to see me, he would probably know the instant I walked up to him that I was trying to keep something from him. And although it went against my every instinct to even consider lying to my partner, I told myself it was out of consideration for his feelings, and therefore for the greater good.

It was only later that I wondered what exactly Amira had meant when she’d talked about the way I behave around Jim.

‘Alright, Liddy-Lou, good holiday?’ Jim was waiting by the open boot of his car, ready to take hold of our luggage. ‘You look like you caught the sun. Was that factor fifty I got you not up to scratch?’

He kissed my cheek and I cringed as his hand rested on my back, mere millimetres from where the offending tattoo was lurking beneath its bandage. I only just managed to stop myself from flinching.

‘It was very good, but I probably wasn’t as diligent about applying the sunscreen as I should have been,’ I confessed.

Jim shook his head. ‘That’s a shame. You should be careful, sweets.’ His concern for my wellbeing made me feel even worse. ‘The sun can be terribly ageing for women,’ he added.

I caught Kat rolling her eyes.

‘But let me guess, as a bloke, you’re miraculously untouched by such concerns?’ she said. I shot her a glance. Now was not the time to go on a feminist rant to Jim, even if I agreed with the sentiment.

Jim laughed. ‘Duly noted. Right, hurry up, girls. I think that might be a police car on the other carriageway, and I don’t fancy getting a talking to from some jumped-up plod because I’ve parked here for all of five minutes.’

As if to emphasise his point, he jumped into the driver’s seat while we finished packing the car. Naturally I sat in the front passenger seat, but wished I was in the back with my friends, because my guilt and anxiety were growing every second I was spending next to Jim. How I was going to stand this long term, I had no idea.

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