Page 83 of Hot to Go

‘No?’ Charlie retorts. ‘Never. Alcohol is not good for you, at all.’

‘We’re very good, Mark. Did you have a good night?’ Charlie and I look at each other, a flashback coming to us of having to tiptoe past his room because of the pretty vocal sex sounds we heard last night.

‘It was alright. When in Rome, you know?’

‘Except we’re in Seville, you plonker,’ Jackie says, appearing behind him, sunglasses and a colourful kaftan top on, her hair a light frizz. He slaps her on the bum and she shakes her head at him affectionately to almost say he can but she’s also hungover and he needs to watch himself.

‘That’s romance that is, Charlie boy,’ Mark tells him.

I laugh because he’s right. Until I see their room door ajar and something hanging from the bunk bed frame. Is that a fan of some description? Maybe a fly swat? Whydo they get one? Until I realise there’s something next to it. That’s a whip. Christ alive. Mark. You old romantic, you.

Charlie

‘PLEASE CHECK THROUGH THESE ROOMS, EVERYONE! I do not want you on that coach telling me you’ve left your phones on your beds,’ Lee shouts out into the corridors, as our Sevillian trip comes to an end.

It’s been a busy day of going to the Royal Alcazar, me admiring the Moorish architecture and beautiful ceramics, the kids less so.My nan’s got these tiles. It’s very hot, Sir. Why didn’t they build this palace with air conditioning?After that there was a wander around the shops and markets so the kids could practise their language skills, an exercise in crowd control and making sure they all bought items that were at least legal and avoiding, as Lee reminded us, a repeat of Paris three years ago where a group of lads bought PSG shirts from a man on the pavement and ended up being arrested. As we are in charge of our own sets of kids, I’ve seen less of Suzie – maybe more from a distance, under an arch, laughing with her group, picking out souvenirs. Snapshots of someone I can see a little more clearly now.

Our room door open, she packs the last of her things, zipping up her bag. She’s changed out of her summer clothes into leggings and a hoodie tied around her waist preparing for the autumn chill that awaits us when we go home. I look around our room, it has all the simplicity of a basic university dorm, stucco walls and the furniture all doesn’t quite match compared to that fancy villa in Mallorca. But I’m starting to think I prefer this, maybe this is more me. Maybe this is a better memory to hold on to.

‘Ready?’ she asks me, rising to her feet and dragging her bag along.

I nod, but I also feel nervous. We’re leaving a holiday again, leaving the sun behind to go back to school and normality. Maybe we’ve laid a better foundation this time round, but there’s something in the pit of my stomach that’s laden with worry. Back in England, we have the worries of my siblings, work and a thousand odd kids getting in the way of anything happening. This is still in its infancy. For all that can go right, there’s also plenty that can go wrong. I linger by the door.

‘Can anyone tell me what the Spanish is for key?’ Lee announces to all the kids, collecting keys and trying his best to organise this chaos. There are no replies. I see Lee with a clipboard trying to focus his eyes. If Suzie and I are hungover, it turns out he’s in a worse state. After we all disappeared from that rooftop, Jorge persuaded him to go to a flamenco bar in town. If you walk past him, you can still smell the faint whiff of tequila. ‘Mr Shaw, can you just check those rooms on the end, give them a knock.’

I stand by the door, a little paper bag package in my hand. I was trying to create a memory to mark the end of the trip. It was a silly gift I picked up for Suzie in the markets today but I guess it can wait. I slip it into the pocket in her bag and make my way down the corridors.

‘Sir, I can’t fit this into my bag?’ a voice cries out.

I look into a room and see a girl holding a guitar in her hands. Never mind legal, it would have been good to buy something that could fit in your case.

‘Do you play the guitar?’ I ask her.

‘No, it’s for my dad. Isn’t it great?’

I nod. It’s super pretty but I reckon that’s going in their loft within three months. Behind her, I see someone who’s bought a whole hock of Spanish serrano ham, wielding it like a weapon. We will possibly have to hustle her through Customs.

‘Sir, what do you think of this?’ I turn around. Lola. Lola has been a pure source of comedy this trip. From constantlystressing about the state of her eyelashes in this heat to speaking to everyone in her Spanish with a London accent, there is something endearing about her. She holds up a little keyring with a golden bull on the end.

‘That’s quite classy, Lola.’ …and more importantly, it fits in your bag.

‘It’s for Josh. I’m just trying to work out if it’s not enough, or too much? Maybe I should just get him some Spanish M&Ms or something. What do the Spanish call M&Ms?’

‘M&Ms…’ I tell her.

‘Oh.’

‘The keyring is cute. You realise you’d have to talk to Josh though to give it to him,’ I joke.

‘You’re hilarious, Sir. How’s things going with Miss Callaghan?’ she teases, pointing a finger down the corridor.

I try and hold in a smile. ‘Miss Callaghan is a colleague in my department. I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Smoochie, smoochie, Sir. You think we’re all looking at our phones and don’t notice you looking at her. She likes you, you know?’ she says. ‘It’s kinda obvious.’

‘Is it?’ I say, my guard dropping for a moment.

‘Well, yeah. Josh is always saying she has an eye on your room whenever she’s teaching him. This trip confirmed it. There is some chemistry there. You got it on, didn’t you?’

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