Katy Colins - Destination Thailand

‘We’ll walk slowly then.’ She shushed me by shoving a pale gold dress in my hands. It was the same one I’d bought on a whim a few years back, all hail Beyoncé. I’d never taken the tags off it after Alex had commented how it looked like I’d stolen it off a cheap hooker; I did have to admit that Queen Bey wasn’t going to be quaking in her rhinestone-studded boots at the sight of me. Marie must have packed it in secret. I wished that I’d had time to change into the baggy linen trousers and safe blouse I had picked out before Marie had hidden them. That had been a fun game.

We eventually made it out into the balmy evening to the chirp of crickets and smell of petrol fumes and headed to the harbour, where fifty-foot masts swayed on the inky blue water highlighted by white sugar-cube villas that shone from the hillside in the distance, their lights twinkling like fallen stars. This stunning setting was unfortunately butchered by the line of identical bars and nightclubs opposite the water’s edge. Every bar had A boards advertising fishbowls, free shots and buy-one-get-three-drinks-free offers in neon swirly handwriting. A girl wearing furry boots, tiny sequin hot pants and a bikini top that just covered her nipples danced over to us, wrapping her tanned arms around our shoulders trying to steer us into the bar she was working for.

‘All right, ladies! My name’s Mel, you ’ere on ya hols? Well you’ve come to the right place. The cheapest and best drinks in town are right ’ere. I’ll do ya three cheeky Vimtos for the price of one, any triple spirit an’ a mixer for just a paaand and chuck in a couple of shots too!’ The manic-eyed blonde half-screeched at us in a thick cockney accent without taking a breath. I glanced at Marie who looked as uncomfortable as I felt at having this strange woman half-woven around us.

The bar she was adamantly pulling us into was deserted. A sad bucking bronco waited patiently to chuck overweight tourists around in the corner, and the bar staff were leaning on the bar smoking while pathetic strobe lights bounced off the empty tables.

‘It’s like waaaaay early but trust me, this is the place to be. In a few hours you’ll be wantin’ to lezz up with me for nabbing you a table, as it’s gonna be kerazy!’ Manic Mel explained, looking at our half-terrified, half-disappointed faces.

A couple of other bar touts were peering over to see if she was going to get her catch or if they could have a go once we’d walked on. Seeing them eyeing us up like vultures, working out the commission they could get from us made me want to grab Marie’s hand and run back to the safety and quiet of our hotel room.

‘Yeah, go on then,’ Marie said, instantly crushing my hopes for a speedy exit. It’s your last night here, don’t be such a square, Georgia.

‘Awesome!’ Manic Mel cracked her thick make-up into a fake smile. ‘Follow me, ladiez!’

Back home the wedding guests would be dancing to ‘Come on Eileen’, hitting the free bar and trying to ignore Alex’s arrogant best man Ryan wafting his willy about as he streaked round the marquee with his tie on his head Rambo-style. But here I was, trying to drown out the Freddie Mercury tribute act, listening to Marie being chatted up by a group of baby-faced lads wearing matching ‘I got off my tits in Turkey’ T-shirts, and feeling my shoulders throbbing from sunburn. I wasn’t quite sure which was the lesser of two evils.

‘Georgia! This is Rickaaaay!’ Marie shouted over the music, doing her best Bianca Jackson impression as the lad she had her arm around looked on bemused. He was either too young or too drunk to know what the hell she was on about. ‘Him and his mates are from Cardiff.’

‘All right?’ Ricky headed in for a peck on the cheek but stumbled and half head-butted my cheekbone. Once all this cheap alcohol wore off that was going to sting like a motherlover.

‘Oww. Yeah fine,’ I said, rubbing my face, messing up the make-up that Marie had carefully applied following a YouTube contouring video in our room. I went to head back to our table to grab some ice – Manic Mel was right, this place had livened up since we’d arrived – but Marie caught my arm.

‘Come on, don’t stop now!’ she pleaded, her eyes alight with what was either happiness or a vodka-glaze before pulling me back out to the dance floor. ‘This is bloody brilliant. It’s so amazing to see you smiling again,’ Marie shouted over a Bohemian Rhapsody remix. ‘Also I think you’re well in there,’ she sang in my ear, nodding her head towards Ricky who seemed to have learnt his dance moves from the Inbetweeners film.

I scrunched up my face. ‘I dunno.’

‘I’m telling you, he’s gagging for it!’

I winced. ‘I really don’t think I’m ready for that.’

‘Maybe you just need to get it over with. Rip that plaster off?’ she suggested as an enthusiastic dancer hip-bumped past us.

I stared at Marie, remembering the last time she had tried encouraging me to ‘get it over with’. Memories of being 15 and waiting in the cold bunker, flooded back. Marie clocked my deadpan expression and wrapped her arms around me.

‘Sorry, forgot I’m not the world’s best cupid,’ she said gingerly.

‘It’s fine, but I need to take it at my own pace. And I don’t want to be rude but Ricky may still be a virgin.’

‘You could be a cougar!’ She burst out laughing. ‘No, I understand, but hey, it’s nice to know you’ve still got it. Plus, I read somewhere that if you don’t use it then it’ll seal back up,’ she giggled before spinning me around.

As she was teaching Ricky and his mates our signature lawn mower move there seemed to be some sort of commotion near the entrance. Expecting to see some ‘Z list’ Turkish reality TV star, Marie pulled us through the partygoers to get a better view. But where a fame-hungry wannabe should have stood was in fact a pretty woman wearing a long white dress, grinning and holding hands with a guy wearing a black suit. They were soon followed by energetic ladies all in matching sage green prom-style dresses as it dawned on me…we were being joined by a wedding party.

You’ve got to be kidding me. I glared up at the sky. On the night when, by this time, I should have been slow dancing with Alex, I was now face to face with an actual wedding, in the company of the kind of fun hosts who got the wedding customs out of the way before hitting the clubs to really party together. Alex would have hated that.

Actually, Alex would have hated this entire trip, from the plastic sun loungers, to the karaoke bars, to the flashiness of the Turkish men. He probably would have looked down at what I was wearing and commented on how much slap I had on. Grabbing Marie’s hand I led her to the ladies’ room.

‘OMG! Are you OK?’ Marie asked with concerned wide eyes. ‘I take it you saw the unwanted visitors. I can go and ask the bouncers to remove them if you like?’ She began bouncing on the spot Rocky-style.

‘No, it’s OK. I might be a little bit sick, but that could also be the luminous fishbowl we drank.’ I leaned onto the cold stone of the basin. ‘Oh Marie, seeing them has made this feel so real.’

‘What do you mean? Do you need to sit down?’

I shook my head. ‘Did you see the look that groom was giving his new wife? Did you see that? God! I could sense the hormones from way over here. It’s been years since Alex looked at me like that. Years! Maybe I’ve had a lucky escape, like you said. Maybe this is the perfect time for me to make some serious changes in my life. I’ve made a list like you asked.’ Marie looked totally confused, forgetting her brainwave on the beach. I rooted around in my clutch bag, spilling half of the contents on the tiled floor, and thrust the paper at her.