Page 3 of Another Lucky Number

Throwing on the resort embossed silk bathrobe, I dash to the door, and on peeking through the spy hole, I see that it’s Cat. She’s still in her beach gear and she looks worried. I quickly pull open the heavy wooden door.

‘Hi, Cat. Everything OK?’

Her expression morphs to one of confusion. ‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You looked pretty hacked off when you left the poolside before. Did you have a fight with Amber? She kept saying it was nothing, but I know she’s not telling me something.’

I feel a rush of guilt for making Cat worry. She had no idea what was going on, and Amber would never admit to being the instigator of my bad mood.

‘Oh, Cat, no, I’m fine. It was a bit ridiculous, really, and I probably overreacted. Amber was her usual charming self, which of course, resulted in me looking like an idiot in front of half the resort. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.’ I quickly fill her in on the poolside debacle.

‘That must have been mortifying,’ says Cat. ‘And this is only day two. Are you sure it was a good decision bringing Amber on this trip?’

‘I’m already questioning that myself, believe me.’

‘Sorry honey, but at least I know you’re OK.’ Cat gives my shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. ‘I’m off for a shower myself. See you in the cocktail bar at seven-thirty? Same as last night?’

‘Perfect.’

We say our goodbyes and I resume my post showeractivities. For having arrived only the day before, my suite is already well lived-in, and I have to zig-zag across the refreshingly cool tiled floor, seeking items of jewellery, makeup and clothing which are strewn across the hard wood furniture and the cream fabric sofas. My idea of unpacking is clearly not how it’s meant to be done.

After trying on about five outfits, I settle on a slinky low-back black evening dress paired with chunky wedged sandals that make my legs look long, slim and graceful (I love an optical illusion). Outfit sorted, I style my hair (though sometimes I wonder why I bother because it doesn’t behave in hot and humid weather), then finish my makeup with a final volumising slick of mascara.

With half an hour to spare, I open the patio doors and step out onto the spacious balcony terrace, a wall of heat and humidity engulfing me as I leave my air-conditioned room. Leaning on the railing, I enjoy the feel of the warm sea breeze on my face while taking in the incredible view: the pristine white sand, luscious palm trees regally lining the shore, the sparkling deep turquoise water that hugs the coastline as far as the eye can see. All these visual treasures enhanced by the rhythmic crash of the surf and the cooing of the pretty Eurasian Collared Doves that have made the resort their home – the perfect habitat for an easy meal, just like Edinburgh city centre is to the less appealing urban pigeons back home. Never in my life have I experienced paradise like this.

I drink in the view for as long as I can, my normally busy, over-analytical mind astonishingly quiet. I promise myself that I will not – for even a second – take this experience for granted. This is a trip of once, maybe a couple of times, in a lifetime, and I’m going to make the most of it.

Prying myself away from the vista, I grab my handbag and room key, and head for the bar. I stride past the resort’s cluster of boutique-style shops before whizzing by reception, giving aquick wave to Charnice, the remarkably friendly receptionist who checked us in the day before.

On arriving at the open-air cocktail bar, I can see that most of the tables are already occupied by a melange of hotel guests: from smooching young couples to families, middle-aged groups of friends, and travelling companions who have reached the greater milestones in life. I grab the last remaining table overlooking the pool and as soon as I’ve settled onto the comfortable outdoor sofa, Cat and Amber appear.

‘Looking lovely, ladies.’ I say, as a waiter materialises beside us. ‘What do you fancy to drink?’

‘Rum Punch, please.’ Cat beams at the waiter.

‘I’ll have a Bahama Mama,’ says Amber.

‘And a Pina Colada for me, thank you.’ I complete the order and the waiter disappears.

We sit quietly, taking in the atmosphere, enjoying our freedom from the everyday demands of being at home. The tasteful lighting on the terrace and the approaching dusk create a relaxed evening ambience that chases away the youthful vibrancy of the daytime. Even when our drinks arrive and we clink glasses do we stay quiet and contemplative.

Until Amber breaks the silence.

‘Feeling refreshed after your dip earlier, Emma?’

Clear that this is an attempt to wind me up, I ignore her.

‘I hear the water’sreallynice.’

‘Amber.’ Cat calls her out on her goading. ‘You promised on the way along here—’

‘It’s fine, Cat,’ I say. ‘I’m over it. The more we react, the more she’ll continue. Best thing to do is ignore her.’

Amber looks highly amused by my assessment of the situation, but says nothing further. I use the opportunity to savour my first taste of Pina Colada, which is delicious – and stronger than the cocktails I’m used to at home – and change the subject.

‘Have you heard from Mike since we left?’ I ask Cat. She’s also recently met a new man and they’ve just gone exclusive.

---