Page 11 of Hot to Go

‘Which would be mildly hilarious,’ Lucy turns to me. ‘It’s what we called Meg all the time when we were teenagers,’ Lucy explains.

‘It’s whatyoucalled her,’ Emma clarifies. ‘Please stop it with the smegma talk so early in the morning.’

‘Oh, do lighten up, Emma. It’s her fortieth. We’re on holiday.’

‘You may be. But we’re still on British soil. They can ban us from the flight for inappropriate behaviour… clothing,’ Emma informs her, pointing a finger over her cleavage.

‘Inappropriate? There’s a girl over there in a fishnet dress. I can see her pubes poking out the holes.’ Do we all turn around? Of course we do. Christ, it’s like a sea urchin down there.

Lucy looks down at her top. ‘Instead, I look like a desperately sad groupie of a band that peaked in the nineties.’

‘The T-shirt is funny,’ Emma tells her.

‘It’s not. I’ll tell you what’s funny though. I stayed at Em’s last night and saw her pack. How many pairs of knickers did you pack for a five-day holiday? Fifteen.’

The sisters all laugh and I do my best to hold in my giggles.

‘I travel prepared…’

‘For having diarrhoea?’ Lucy retorts.

‘You’re such a cow.’

‘Mooooooo,’ she says loudly, attracting attention from the tables next to us.

Emma takes a deep breath before getting up and walking away. To where, who knows? But it’s to avoid a fully fledged fight with her sister in this harshly lit terminal building so early in the morning. I love this familiar banter, and the fact that Emma will eventually come back because what binds these sisters is more than just knicker talk.

‘Are we doing shots yet?’ Lucy asks, unperturbed by her sister’s storming off.

There’s a collective no, but I see the disappointment in her eyes and I put my hand to the air.

‘SUZIE! Yes!’ she says, pointing at me, scuttling off to the bar. There is a collective eye roll around the table but the truth is, I owe Lucy, big time. Back when the Pad Thai hit the fan (quite literally), she was the first person I called. I was floored, distraught and a big seething ball of emotion. Paul had cheated on me with someone he’d met at the gym. It was such a cliché and I felt like such a damn fool and had no idea what to do. Lucy knew. She got on a train to Brighton, she came to find me, she burst through my door and offered to defecate on his clothes. And she was the one who told me to come back to London.Come back home, Suzie. London will look after you. We’ll look after you.I idolised Lucy and her four sisters growing up. They treated me like a surrogate little sister, and being an only child, they were a force to be reckoned with, strong female energy that was embracing, warming. They’ve always made me feel part of their gang.

‘You don’t have to do shots with her, you know?’ Beth tells me. ‘She can do that on her own. We can’t carry both of you to the plane.’

‘I could do just the one? Or toss it over my shoulder.’

Beth laughs. If Lucy saved me, then Beth and the others dragged me on their lifeboat. They saw a girl in need and revived her. Everything from temporary digs to financial advice; they were there, and I’ll forever be grateful.

‘Well, this is at least better than my hen where she waited until I passed out and put a fake penis tattoo on my forehead,’ Meg says, plainly, watching Lucy as she flirts with Pete the barman while sneakily putting quite a lot of ketchup sachets in her pockets. There’s always been a brazen confidence about her that is entertaining but, man, I wish I could bottle it.Inhale it for all those moments you need to be a touch more badass. Her sisters watch her and you can see a collective look of pride but also questioning if it’s too late to leave her behind.

‘Thank you again, for letting me be here,’ I tell Meg.

She swats away the compliment. ‘It saves one of us having to bunk in with Luce,’ she winks. ‘You are family. This is where you belong.’ I beam at her kindness. ‘Plus, we need a touch of youth on this trip too. People to remind us how to party. We don’t trust Lucy. Last time I went out with her, the shots were on fire and I nearly lost my eyebrows.’

I forget how the Callaghans are in a different stage to life than me – apart from Lucy, they’re all mums and either married, divorced or living with someone. It feels like they’re light years ahead of me in maturity – a place I wanted to be with Paul. I hate how he hurdles into my thoughts like that. Fuck Paul.

‘Well, I can definitely do that,’ I tell her. ‘Plus, this is a celebration. Yesterday, I signed my contract,’ I say, pointing at Beth who claps excitedly on my behalf.

‘Work buddies,’ she says, holding her drink to the air.

Grace puts a congratulatory arm around me. Signing that contract felt good, freeing. It means I’m still moving in the right direction, away from Paul, reclaiming my power.

‘It’s all good. New home, new job, new chapter…’ I tell the sisters.

‘And new wanger. Plenty of it in Spain, I’m sure,’ Lucy adds, returning to the table.

Grace rolls her eyes, hitting Lucy round the head. ‘Lovely. I am sure that’s what Suzie needs.’ She looks over at me. ‘Ignore her, take your time. When your heart is broken, you don’t need wanger to fill the cracks.’

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