Page 19 of It's All Sun and Games

‘Push her in the sea,’ Dad suggests, causing a momentary silence to fall over the table.

For a second, I just stare at him, surprised by his sudden input – I didn’t even know he was actually listening. He’s been quiet throughout dinner (as he often is through conversations I have with my mum), so his suggestion catches me off guard.

‘I’m sorry, what?’ I finally manage to utter.

‘Colin!’ Mum practically squeaks.

‘Push her in the sea,’ Dad says again, his tone still so matter-of-fact, as if this is a perfectly reasonable course of action.

‘I can’t believe I’m even engaging with this,’ I start, laughing to myself. ‘But why?’

‘When I was at school, there was this kid, Willy Lawn, who used to pick on me all the time,’ Dad explains. ‘And my father said to me: “Son, you need to show that kid who is boss and that he can’t mess with you.” So, we were on a school trip to Blackpool, and he was giving me a hard time, so I pushed him into the sea. Never bothered me again.’

Once again, I fall silent as I try to process my dad’s unconventional advice.

‘You know I’m in my thirties, right?’ I finally reply, my sheer disbelief evident in my voice.

‘Yeah,’ Dad responds simply. ‘Sorry it’s taken me so long to think of it.’

‘Ignore him,’ Mum interjects. ‘You’re a mature young woman – continue to rise above it, but make sure you land this client. That will really hit her where it hurts.’

‘And if not, you know…’ Dad’s voice trails off as he mimes shoving someone into the sea.

Unbelievable.

‘Well, thanks for dinner,’ I say, chuckling to myself. ‘I’m going to go upstairs and get my things ready.’

‘Do you not want to watch a movie?’ Dad asks. ‘I thought I’d put Con Air on.’

‘Dad, what the hell?’ I blurt in response.

My mum drops her jaw theatrically.

‘Colin, do you honestly think it’s a good idea to show your daughter a movie with a plane crash when, not only is she terrified of flying, but she is doing so in a matter of hours?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dad says, laughing to himself. ‘That must be what made me think of it – sorry.’

He giggles like a naughty schoolboy.

‘Okaaaay, so I’ll go get my things ready and try not to panic about the plane crashing,’ I say, pushing my chair out and making my way to the door.

‘There probably won’t be any convicts on your plane, if that helps,’ Dad quips, attempting to lighten the mood – it does not.

‘Try not to worry about that, my love,’ Mum adds with a reassuring smile. ‘I’ll be up to see you shortly – I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’

I head up the stairs to what was once my bedroom but is now repurposed as a guest room. All my things are stashed in the loft now, and the room looks so different, but I can still see the remnants of my time here, if I look closely. My formerly pink walls have been repainted to a very light cream but, if you know where to look, you can still see these faint marks from where I had my posters stuck up with thumbtacks. Also, and I’m not even sure if my parents know about this one, but there’s a dent in the ceiling, from a sleepover that got out of hand. It’s right above the bed and lying back and looking up at it makes me smile. In a weird way, I hope no one ever fills it in, because it feels like I’ve quite literally made my mark on the world.

Despite the changes, and all of my things being boxed up in the loft, this room still feels like the warm, nostalgic hug that I’m in need of right now.

The fact that I’ve been sending emails back and forth with Andrea all evening has also felt like a trip down memory lane – although emailing with her is significantly faster than posting actual letters back and forth, so I’m happy to accept that change.

Talking to her has been a welcome distraction from the chaos of the day, and I’m loving hearing about what she’s doing now, compared to what she told me she wanted to do when we were kids.

I couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness for Andrea when she told me that she was actually a chef, just like she’d always dreamed of. She may not be in her dad’s restaurant, or her own, but the fact that she’s creating recipes for products is still pretty bloody close. I remember how we used to talk about our future, and that for a good chunk of time I dreamed of becoming a radio presenter, although I can’t recall why that ever appealed to me, and what I’m actually doing isn’t even close. Not that I think Andrea is judging me for it, because what does it matter really?

What does matter is the excitement in Andrea’s emails, her genuine joy at hearing from me and her eagerness to catch up. It’s heart-warming to know that our friendship – one that only ever really existed on paper – has stood the test of time.

She is genuinely buzzing about me visiting Bari finally, asking for all the details, so I’ve told her my plans and asked for some good recommendations of places to eat and visit.

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