Page 18 of It's All Sun and Games

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.

‘My bones are just… oh, boy,’ she says again. ‘An ortho… ortho… ortho-whatsit surgeon had a look and she says I need emergency surgery, asap, to sort it all out, so that’s what we’re doing next.’

She sounds so casual considering she’s about to have an operation. I reckon that, even if I were on strong painkillers, I would probably still be panicking about it right now. I mean, I’m panicking for her, and I’m not even the one going under the knife.

‘It doesn’t look like I’ll be going to Italy with you all,’ she says with a heavy sigh.

‘Priya, I’m so sorry,’ James tells her.

‘Forget about the trip,’ I reassure her. ‘You just focus on getting the help you need and we’ll go anywhere you want after. Somewhere nice, with no work to do.’

‘And, you never know, they might say you’re okay to go,’ Liz says optimistically – optimistically but stupidly.

James and I both turn to look at her.

‘What?’ she says softly.

I can just about see the guilt, lurking beneath her stony exterior. She would probably do well to show it a bit more.

‘Anyway, thanks for looking after me, and for getting me here,’ Priya tells us. ‘I’ll be having my op soon, so there’s no point sticking around.’

‘Message me later, when you can, okay?’ I say, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘Let me know what’s going on and how you’re doing – and know that you can ring me anytime.’

‘Thanks,’ she says sincerely.

‘You sure you’re okay on your own?’ I check.

‘So long as they keep pumping me with drugs,’ she replies. ‘Honestly, go, you’ve got a trip to get ready for.’

We say our goodbyes and head outside.

‘I’ll let Rick know what was going on,’ James tells us.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ I reply, sighing, because I’m already worried that this is somehow going to be made out to be my fault and, with Liz controlling the narrative, there’s an even higher chance it’s going to be me who looks bad.

I take my phone from my bag, instantly spotting the email from Rick, but then as my eyes scan down my screen, I notice another email – oh my gosh, it’s from Andrea! Not only did she get my message, but she has sent me a really long reply too.

I’m staying at my parents’ house tonight, so that my dad can give me a lift for my flight early in the morning, so I’ll head there and then reply to her. Oh, but not before I head back to the office, which is where I left my shopping. Definitely can’t forget that.

My gosh, it’s going to be like old times, sleeping under the same roof as my parents, chatting with my pen pal. It will be nice, going back to a simpler time (or pretending to, at least) because things have certainly got messier today.

I’m definitely happy to feel like a kid again, even if it is just for one night.

8

I’m sitting at the table with my parents, practically shovelling my dinner into my mouth – weirdly, going to the gym has made me hungry, not that I did anything while I was there.

I’ve just been telling them all about Priya’s accident – if we’re calling it an accident – and how she needs an operation, so won’t be going on the Italy trip.

Obviously, first and foremost, my concern is for my friend and all that matters is that she gets better. That said, I’m really not looking forward to this trip now that I won’t have my ally with me. Priya is my friend, the one I have a laugh with, the one who sticks up for me. I can’t even imagine what it’s going to be like without her – although I’m sure it’s preferable to an operation, so I’ll give it a rest with that particular pity party.

‘Oh, poor Priya,’ Mum coos sympathetically. ‘She must be in agony – and devastated she’s missing out on the trip to Italy.’

‘I think all she cares about right now is just not being in pain,’ I reply with a shrug, stabbing a chip and popping it into my mouth. I mentally tick myself off for continuing to eat when I’m already full, because if I keep going like this, the plane might struggle to lift off the runway. What is it about visiting your parents that turns you into a bottomless pit? Perhaps it’s a nostalgia thing, something about your mum’s cooking taking you back to when you were a kid, or perhaps I really am just working overtime to try to pretend I’m a kid again today.

‘That Liz sounds just awful,’ Mum continues, her brow furrowing as she shakes her head – it takes a lot to rattle Mum.

‘I honestly don’t know what her problem is,’ I reply with a sigh. ‘I don’t know how to get her to back off.’

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