Summer on the Turquoise Coast Read online

Alice snatched the brochure off the table, went straight to the relevant page, and read. ‘All rooms have twin beds, a private bathroom, balcony or terrace, blah, blah, blah. An additional charge is made for single occupancy. Single occupancy! Next excuse?’

  Nina cast around for one. ‘Ha! I haven’t got a passport.’

  ‘Yes, you have.’

  ‘I haven’t seen it in years.’

  ‘That’s because it’s in my dressing table drawer,’ Alice said.

  ‘What is it doing in there?’

  ‘You left it at home after the last time you went abroad.’

  ‘Six years ago? Surely it can’t still be in date?’

  Alice smiled like a Cheshire cat on happy pills, and Nina realised her mother had set her up. ‘It is, I checked.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll go,’ Nina said, giving into the inevitable, sounding more like she was spending two weeks in prison rather than two weeks in a hotel for the discerning traveller.

  ‘Is Nina coming?’ Flossie asked Alice, cupping a hand around her ear.

  ‘Yes, Gran, I’m coming,’ Nina shouted, plastering a smile on her face and trying to make the best of it. After all, what could be so bad – sun, sand, sea, and total relaxation for two whole weeks? All she needed to do was load up her iPad and plug her ear buds in when the bingo and karaoke started.

  Despite the way her mother had railroaded her into going (she’d get her back sooner or later), Nina had a sneaking suspicion that she was starting to look forward to it. Then she realised how sad that sounded, when two weeks babysitting her gran was going to be the highlight of her summer. Great.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Let’s have a look?’ Nina held her hand out and Flossie passed her the brochure, already open at the correct page. Nina smiled – her gran was so looking forward to their holiday. She wondered how many people had been subjected to the dubious pleasure of having the old woman shove the brochure under their noses. Everyone at the Salvation Army she guessed. Gran wasn’t a member, but she liked to go along to their meetings on Wednesday afternoons because they did “a lovely cream tea”, though the singing was “a bit of a nuisance”, the Old Age Pensioners (‘I only go to keep the old biddies company,’ Gran argued), and anyone else in the village who was unfortunate enough to come within ten feet of her.

  Nina studied the brochure whilst trying not to walk into any other pedestrians. Or lamp posts. She narrowly missed smacking straight into a post, as Flossie grabbed her arm, almost yanking her off her feet. For such a little woman, her grandmother could really pack a punch.

  If the photos were anything to go by, the hotel looked gorgeous; right on the beach and a stone’s throw away from the lively main street. The interior was tasteful, and it had a little courtyard and a fountain, and boasted a Turkish bath, though Nina had no idea what one of those was). It also had an impossibly-blue pool, and the rooms seemed spacious, though she suspected the single rooms wouldn’t be quite as nice.

  ‘I’ll come in with you, shall I?’ Nina offered, as the pair of them came to a halt outside the travel agent’s shop.

  ‘It’s alright dear, I can manage. You go and find yourself a nice bikini and I’ll meet you in Marks and Sparks when I’m done. I’m in desperate need of some new knickers.’

  Right, she can sort those out on her own, Nina decided.

  She kissed her grandmother on her softly wrinkled cheek, reminded her to see if the booking could be amended from a twin room to two singles (‘I don’t mind if it costs extra – I’ll pay,’ Nina said), and headed off to search for suitable swimwear, with a little butterfly of anticipation skipping about in her stomach. It had been a long time since she’d been beachwear shopping, and she had no idea what suited her, nor what other clothes to buy.

  The sales assistant in Debenhams was lovely.

  ‘Where are you going?’ the girl asked.

  ‘Turkey. I can’t remember the name of it, but apparently, according to my gr-friend, it has a beautiful blue lagoon.’

  ‘Ooh, I know it. Me and my boyfriend went there a couple of years ago. It was lovely. The water in the lagoon is like bathwater.’

  ‘Will the weather be hot?’ Nina asked with trepidation. She wasn’t too good in the heat, or the cold. She didn’t like rain much either, come to think of it. Rain made her hair stick to her head like it was painted on whenever she was forced to put her hood up, and she broke every umbrella within a few days of purchase. No, she wasn’t too keen on rain.

  The assistant nodded emphatically. ‘Really, really hot.’

  ‘Should I take a cardi?’

  ‘Nah. I took a couple of bikinis and lots of skimpy dresses. Oh, and a baggy T-shirt to pop on over my bikini for when the sun got to be too much and I wanted to cover up. Tell me what size you are and I’ll bring you a selection of things.’

  She showed Nina into a cubicle, and five minutes later was back with a huge armful of clothes.

  Nina eyed the assorted wisps of next-to-nothing with dismay. Was that what women on holidays wore these days? The last time she’d gone abroad she’d worn pretty, long floaty dresses, and she distinctly remembered her bikini had more than enough material to cover her modesty. The tiny triangles the assistant held up were barely large enough to hide her nipples, let alone the rest of her boobs.

  Nina crossed her arms defensively, imagining how exposed she’d feel wearing so little. It was almost pornographic. The other tiny offerings the assistant showed her weren’t any better; worse in fact, because one of them appeared to be made of some kind of loosely knitted wool, and she shuddered when she imagined the effect water would have on it.

  ‘Er…’ she said, ‘have you got anything a little less revealing?’ She didn’t want to give any of the old folk in the hotel a heart attack. Nicely covered and modest would do. She guessed she’d stand out enough as it was, because she’d be younger than everyone else in the hotel, without drawing any more undue attention to herself. She suspected she’d feel self-conscious enough already.

  ‘How about a one-piece? You’re too small up top for the bikinis that really cover you up more. They’re designed for the larger or older lady.’

  Nina nodded weakly. ‘A one-piece is fine.’ Great, not only was she a prude, but she’d just been informed that she didn’t possess enough in the breast department to be prudish about.

  While she waited for her tormentor to return, Nina sifted through the rest of the clothes. Strappy, plunging necklines were complimented (if that was the right word) by hemlines short enough to reveal what she’d had for lunch. No thanks, but at least she now knew what she wanted – loose and floaty, preferably in cotton or linen, though linen did have a nasty tendency to crease.

  She eventually left Debenhams with several bulging carrier bags and a seriously depleted bank balance. Who’d have thought such lightweight clothes would cost so much!

  Flossie was already seated in a corner booth in Marks and Spencer’s café, with a pot of tea in front of her. As soon as she saw Nina she called ‘Coo-ee’ to a waitress, who smiled and brought a coffee for the new arrival. Nina dumped her bags on the floor and dropped into a chair with a harried sigh.

  ‘It’s official,’ she announced. ‘I hate shopping.’

  ‘Show me what you’ve bought,’ Flossie said, and Nina bent down to retrieve the first thing which came to hand – a swimming costume.

  She soon sat up straight again when Flossie produced a miniature bottle of vodka and poured it into her tea. ‘Gran,’ she hissed, ‘what are you doing?’

  ‘Drinking my tea,’ the old lady said, a picture of wide-eyed innocence.

  ‘Put it away, you’ll get us thrown out!’

  ‘Don’t be such a wuss,’ Flossie replied, sucking up her tea with relish and smacking her lips.

  Nina had difficulty getting her head around the fact that her eighty-four-year-old, frail grandmother had just called her a wuss, and that she carried vodka in her handbag and was brazen enough to flash it in the middle of an M
&S coffee shop, without even batting an eyelid.

  Her grandmother was a secret lush.

  ‘Want some?’ Flossie asked, waving the half empty bottle.

  ‘Put it away,’ Nina repeated, scanning the café like a spy expecting an ambush. ‘I’m sure they’ve got to have a license or something if they intend serving alcohol.’

  ‘They’re not serving alcohol,’ Flossie pointed out. ‘I’m serving myself.’

  Nina sighed and looked away when a couple on a neighbouring table gave her a dagger-like stare. Anyone would think she had some control over what her grandmother did. She snorted and thought, ‘I wish!’

  She’d forgotten she was still holding her one-piece, until Flossie jabbed a finger at it and asked, ‘What do you call that?’

  ‘A swimming costume, Gran.’

  ‘It looks roomy enough to fit a horse inside. Did you pick up the right size?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ Nina was indignant; there was nothing wrong with her costume.

  ‘Bit old-ladyish, innit?’ Flossie slipped the now-empty bottle into her voluminous bag.

  ‘Not at all. I like it!’ Nina changed the subject. ‘Did you manage to alter the name on the booking, or do I have to take all this back for a refund?’ Nina relaxed a little now the vodka was hidden away.

  Flossie blinked owlishly. ‘What name?’

  ‘My name, remember? You were going into the travel agent to change the booking from Grandad’s name to mine.’ Please don’t let her really be losing her marbles, Nina prayed silently.

  Her grandmother looked relieved, as if her memory had suddenly come back. ‘Oh that,’ she waved a hand airily. ‘All done. Nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘What about the rooms?’

  ‘Booked. As I said, nothing to fret about, all sorted.’

  ‘Shall I check the paperwork, just to make sure?’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of sorting it out myself,’ Flossie said, sitting straighter in her seat and doing a Queen Victoria impression. Nina could tell she wasn’t amused.

  ‘Okay, if you’re sure…?’

  ‘I am. Now, let’s not hear any more about it. Show me what else you bought, and I’ll show you mine,’ Flossie commanded.

  Nina glanced around, not certain she wanted to drag any more of her purchases out, especially since Flossie had been so dismissive of her swimming costume. Her grandmother had no such qualms, producing a huge pair of knickers and holding them up for the whole world to see.

  ‘Look, they’ve got a pretty bow on them,’ Flossie announced.

  Several titters from nearby tables had Nina wishing she could slide under her chair and hide.

  ‘Lovely, Gran. Now put them away.’ What on earth had gotten into the old woman, Nina wondered. She’d always been a bit odd, flighty some might say, but she never used to be as bad as this. Maybe it was grief; Nina had read it could do funny things to people. She just hoped it was nothing more sinister – like the start of dementia.

  Her first phone call after she dropped her grandmother home was to the travel agent. Just to make sure.

  ‘I’m ringing about a booking my grandmother, Florence Gibbins, made. She was in this morning, changing one of the names. You see, my grandfather, her husband, died and—’

  ‘Florence Gibbins, you said? Yes, she was in this morning, booking an all-inclusive holiday for two people to Turkey, for two weeks, flying from Birmingham.’

  ‘That’s right, but I’m worried about the names. Did she manage to get one of them changed?’

  ‘Mrs Florence Gibbins and Miss Nina Clarke are the names on the booking. Is one of them not correct?’ The voice on the other end of the phone was rather impatient and Nina didn’t blame him, not if he’d had to put up with her grandmother’s peculiar brand of logic for an hour or so this morning.

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. That’s what it should be. Thank you for sorting it out for her. She wouldn’t let me help you see, she wanted to do it by herself and—’

  ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ he interjected, then maybe sensing the possibility of an add-on purchase, his tone became rather sweeter when he suggested, ‘In-flight meal, additional luggage allowance, extra leg room?’ The last was said with reverence.

  ‘Er, no thanks. What about tickets?’ she asked.

  ‘Tickets are a thing of the past,’ the man on the other end of the phone announced grandly. She used the term, “man”, loosely – he sounded about twelve. ‘It’s all done via email now.’

  ‘But my grandmother doesn’t have email. She doesn’t have a computer. I’d be surprised if she even knew what one was.’

  ‘It’s all sorted. I printed everything out for her before she left, and I’ve checked you in for both flights.’

  Nina shook her head in consternation. ‘How are people supposed to check in without tickets?’

  ‘Mrs Gibbins knows what to do. Just turn up at the airport with your passports and a copy of your booking, which Mrs Gibbins already has, and everything will be taken care of by our excellent airport staff.’

  ‘Oh. Good. That’s it then, all sorted.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  Nina ended the call, relieved her grandmother seemed to have it all in hand, though she was still a little concerned about her gran’s mental health. She phoned her mother, to put her own mind at rest – just to be sure.

  ‘I’m a bit worried about Gran,’ Nina said, as soon as her mother answered the phone. ‘Oh, and by the way, thanks again for landing me with her.’

  ‘You’ll have a lovely time,’ Alice said. ‘Sun, sea, sand, sangria, and sexy waiters.’

  ‘Sangria is Spanish isn’t it? And I don’t want a waiter, however sexy he might happen to be.’

  ‘I’m sure Turkey has a sangria equivalent, just don’t drink too much of it.’

  ‘You should be giving that advice to your mother,’ Nina replied dryly. ‘She drank a whole bottle of vodka right in the middle of Marks and Sparks coffee shop.’

  ‘A whole bottle? Is she alright? You didn’t leave her on her own, did you? What if she vomits – she could choke.’

  ‘A whole miniature bottle,’ Nina amended, ‘and you sound as if you’re talking about a teenager, not an eighty-four-year-old woman.’

  ‘I did think a whole bottle was a bit excessive,’ her mother said, ‘but there’s not much in one of those little miniatures, is there?’

  Nina rolled her eyes. She really did seem to be doing a lot of that lately. ‘Anyway, the reason I rang, was to ask if Gran is alright.’

  ‘She’s fine. Missing your grandad of course, but this holiday is just what she needs to take her mind off it. They used to love their holidays. Always off gallivanting, they were. They used to call your gran Judith Chalmers down at the WI.’

  ‘Who’s Judith Chalmers?’

  ‘She used to present a travel show on the BBC. Went all over the place, just like your grandparents and had more holidays than hot dinners.’

  ‘So you think she’s okay? Not forgetful or anything?’ Nina persisted.

  ‘She’s fine. There’s nothing wrong with her.’ Alice was adamant, and Nina had to accept her verdict. After all, her mother spent more time with Gran than she did; if she said Gran was fine, then Gran was fine.

  Chapter 3

  Nina had been abroad before but Turkey was nothing like Majorca, or Paris, or Prague. It was hot (even at three-thirty in the morning) and the air outside the airport smelled different – exotic, strange, exciting, and definitely not English.

  She was amazed at the amount of people around at such an early hour: tourists, reps, airport staff themselves, drivers, and other assorted men (they seemed to be mostly men), whose business she could not even begin to guess at, milled around the exits and spilled onto the concourse beyond.

  Her grandmother was totally unfazed. Marching towards the bay where one of the tour reps had told them their bus was parked, as though she was the only person there, she forced people to move asi
de or risk getting trampled. Nina was left to manhandle both cases on her own. Her grandmother might be tiny and a bit on the scrawny side, but woe betide anyone who got in her way, or stopped her from doing something she had set her mind on doing. The fact that she’d drank several vodkas on the plane merely added to the old lady’s determination. Nina wondered if her grandmother was as tipsy as Nina herself would have been under the same circumstances, and she suspected not.

  Nearly two hours later, with Gran asleep in the seat next to her, the old lady’s head lolling back and her mouth open, the coach dropped off the edge of the world.

  Nina let out a gasp.

  Spread out below was a glittering, illuminated resort, the flat silver light of dawn showcasing the steep, high sides of the mountains surrounding it, with the sea sprawling in front of her. They were so high up she felt as though she was on the aircraft again.

  The coach, brakes squealing and with an alarming stench of burning rubber, descended the steep, winding road. A wall of rock rose above them on the right, and certain death lay on the left. She was pathetically glad Turks drove on the opposite side of the road to the Brits, because it meant there were at least a couple of lanes of tarmac between her and infinity. Then the horrible realisation that they would probably have to come back up this road on the return journey to the airport struck her. She closed her eyes, then opened them again in a hurry as an image of a moped with a goat riding on it flashed across her eyeballs.

  She hastily twisted in her seat for a better look as the coach overtook the small vehicle, just in time to catch a glimpse of a man, a woman, three children, and a goat, all precariously perched on the too-small seat.

  The boy clutching the resigned-looking goat gave Nina a big smile. Nina smiled back, with more of a sickly grimace than a grin. Dear lord, where were the traffic police? Had the moped’s driver any concept of health and safety? What if they were to have an accident?

  She was still shaking her head as the coach reached the bottom of the valley and manoeuvred its length through a narrow street, cars parked haphazardly on either side, before pulling up outside a grand building with Aphrodite Hotel emblazoned in enormous illuminated letters above the entrance. They’d arrived, thank goodness.