Katy Colins - Destination Thailand

‘You deserve better than him. This will be the making of you I’m sure of it. Look after yourself, kid,’ he whispered as tears pricked my eyes.

‘I will, Dad. Good luck at your appointment. I’ll call you later.’ I waved them off, my mum’s heels clacking on the tiled floor as she brushed the crumbs from the sleeve of my dad’s jumper.

‘Shit, I can’t believe it, what a bloody bombshell.’ Marie shook her head, flicking through Alex’s official papers which now had coffee ring stains on them. ‘Still, imagine his mum’s face when he comes clean about an illegitimate grandchild, they certainly won’t like that at the polo club.’ She looked up at my pale face. ‘Sorry. But you have to admit Ruthless Ruth will be having kittens at this. Right, I’m going to get a later train as we need a drink, or retail therapy or both.’

I let out a deep sigh. ‘No, no, don’t do that. You can’t be late for your new role, as much as a vat of vodka has my name on it I’m not going to be jumping off into the nearest canal or anything. Have a safe journey and call me when you get there, OK?’

Marie nodded uncertainly. ‘You sure? I really don’t want to leave you after that.’

‘Positive. He’s managed to screw up enough things and your acting career is not going to be one of them.’

‘You sure you don’t want to track him down and give him a piece of your mind?’ she asked, looking fired up for a fight. When we were in Turkey she’d tried to teach me how to master snappy comebacks and fierce confrontation, an area that I was useless at. I’d always leave a fight kicking myself over the things that I should have said. Marie had even written down a list of blush-inducing insults, telling me I needed to be confident, stay calm, and that above all ‘If you hesitate, you lose. Think like Eminem in his 8 Mile rap battle.’ She’d gone into acting-teacher mode, telling me to see confrontation as an invite to play then walk away with dignity, firmly instructing me that under no circumstances was I ever to repeat what the other person had said in a funny voice.

I’d tried coming up with my own putdowns including the corker: ‘Have you been on holiday to Greece, as you’re so greasy,’ but even I could tell that wasn’t going to be a classic. She’d even made me download the word a day app, hoping to extend my vocabulary with feisty retorts. But I was nowhere near ready to go all Slim Shady on Alex’s ass, my thoughts were too twisted up to be able to condense what I wanted to say to him into an eloquent put-down. Realising what a lost cause I was Marie had changed tactics, asking, ‘What’s the most powerful way of getting a man’s attention or driving him wild?’

I looked at her blankly.

‘Ignoring him. Moving on. Silent but deadly,’ she said wisely, ignoring my protests that that was also the name of a fart. Unfortunately, I had to agree with her. Realising that if Alex was getting on with his life then I had to get on with mine, I suddenly knew exactly where I needed to go.

CHAPTER 5

Lobally (adj.) Lout, stupid, rude or awkward person

‘Totally Awesome Adventours’ travel agent was just opposite Kendal’s. Its bright lights beamed like a beacon of sunshine nestled next to a drab charity shop and boarded up pharmacy. The cluttered, colourful window display of a tropical beach scene complete with wooden deckchairs, hats with corks hanging from the rim carelessly tossed onto the striped fabric alongside a blow-up kangaroo, looked out of place on the grey Manchester street. ‘Learn Spanish in Argentina’ , ‘Peace out at the Taj Mahal in India’ , ‘Trek the Inca Trail in Peru’ , ‘Go raving in Thailand’ , an array of signs called out, each promising a new experience and adventure. I wistfully thought back to sitting in the sun writing out my travel wish-list, then finding my memory box full of trips I’d wanted to take for so long. This shop offered me the chance to go and see these places for real, and now I had the money to do it.

Taking a deep breath I pushed open the door.

Two guys in their early twenties wearing matching neon orange T-shirts looked up from computers on their kidney-shaped desks, took one glance at me then quickly looked back down again. Huge comfy-looking acid yellow and lime green beanbags were scattered in the corner next to a packed bookcase with stacks of glossy travel brochures, each containing hidden gems, exotic cultures and new worlds inside. I felt a shiver of excitement – until I took in the rest of the room, which made me feel ancient, out of touch and out of place. There was a map of the world with flags where customers could pin the countries they had been and their top tips. I could only add a sad flag to Portugal; my mum had found a cheap deal one year, but moaned constantly that it was too foreign. There had also been nauseating ferry trips to France, that my dad promised would be culturally enlightening but actually turned out to be a quick booze cruise to sell on nice bottles of plonk at mates rates in the local pub car park.

Music I vaguely remembered blasting out from the bedlam of bars in Turkey played with an irritating repetitive beat. Tacked to the colourful walls were photos of nubile-looking women with wet hair excitedly waving to the camera, bar tout Manic Mel could easily have been one of them. My determination vanished as fast as those bikini babes’ morals. Maybe this was a stupid idea; these sorts of places were for carefree students, baby-faced backpackers sharing a manky hostel dorm, not a nearly-30-year-old career woman, if you could even call me that. Without Marie’s unwavering support I suddenly felt foolish being in here; maybe I’d have a look online first from the safety of my bedroom, or maybe this was just an idiotic thing to do in the first place. I tried to sidle my way to the door but it was too late to walk out of the empty shop without going unnoticed.

‘All right?’ A guy with gelled-back ginger hair, oversized ironic black geek glasses and barely-there stubble beckoned me to take a seat on the Perspex chair opposite his desk. His name badge pinned to his skin-tight T-shirt read: ‘ Ask me about Awesomeness ’. The other guy was engrossed in his laptop.

‘Welcome to Totally Awesome Adventours, where our motto is “Escape, Explore, Evolve” or Triple E as we like to call it,’ he said in a deep monotone as if reading a script. His smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes which looked sleep-deprived and bloodshot. I couldn’t help but think ‘Triple E’ sounded like some dodgy drug found in the underbelly of secret raves that my mum had warned me about after recently reading an article in The Daily Mail , her newspaper of choice after spotting a copy at Alex’s parents’ house one time.

‘My name’s Rick. What can I do for you today?’ He pronounced the ‘ick’ part of his name as if licking the strawberry sauce off the top of a Mr Whippy. I shuddered slightly and shifted in the trendy but uncomfortable seat. What could he do for me today?

‘Well…I’m…erm.’

‘Sorry, can you speak up?’ he bellowed, making me jump.

‘I want to quit my job and go travelling,’ I blurted out surprising myself.

‘Don’t we all, luv,’ he sniggered, rolling his eyes. ‘So, where do you want to go as part of this radical plan?’ He signified speech marks with his fingers, looking pleased with himself, shaking his head in silent mirth.

I felt his eyes take in my practical ponytail, flowered blouse and straight-legged light denim jeans. I thought it was quite a nice look, but it just echoed the rest of my bland and dull wardrobe, a bit like the owner. I’d never been into fashion, always wanting to blend in rather than stand out. Alex had said he preferred it that way, saying it was less hassle having a girlfriend who didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but sat here I felt like I stood out a mile.