Katy Colins - Destination Thailand

Marie laughed. ‘Ah not just yet, Sheila, it’s more Hackney than Hollywood, but don’t worry, you’ll all be invited to the premiere,’ she smiled, before pulling out a fiver for the Big Issue seller who wandered off grinning.

‘Oh I hope so. Isn’t that exciting, Georgia?’ She didn’t let me answer before she was off again. ‘I bet your mum must be so proud. Who would have thought all those years ago when Georgia brought home the new girl in class with a southern accent and an allergy to chips and gravy that she would transform into a successful movie star! It’s a shame we haven’t got long as I want to hear all about it. But Len has an appointment in town for his back. It’s been giving him gyp again,’ my mum said, linking Marie’s arm.

Ten minutes later we were settled on squishy sofas with a tray of cappuccinos and shortbread biscuits laid out in front of us. As my mum had a mouthful of coffee and Marie had nipped to the loo, my dad was able to start the conversation.

‘So pet, how’ve you been? You’ve caught the sun a little. Weather must’ve been good,’ he grinned pointing at my peeling nose.

‘It was great, but just being back it already feels like a distant memory,’ I said sadly, still unable to shake this cloud that had settled around me since last night. I’d cried all the way back to Marie’s after leaving my old house. Then tortured myself even more by opening the few boxes we had packed in her car. Under neatly folded clothes, CDs and Harry Potter books was a shoebox filled with ticket stubs and bottle caps from our first dates, blurry Polaroid photographs and pages torn from magazines with exotic beaches, advice on booking a couples trip and places you must see before you die. I’d tipped it all into the wastepaper bin along with my travel wish-list scrunched up at the bottom of my case. Who was I kidding?

‘Ah, holiday blues,’ he sighed. ‘That’s totally normal, especially after everything you’ve been through.’

‘So, did Marie have you dancing around till the small hours with attractive Turkish men?’ my mum asked. My dad cleared his throat and shifted on his seat.

‘Not really, you know it was never going to be one of those kinds of holidays.’

‘Well, probably for the best. I’ve read so many awful articles about women parading down foreign streets wearing hardly anything and drinking too much then waking up missing an organ, or worse.’ She raised a thin eyebrow. ‘So what was Turkey like? Was your hotel nice? Was it clean?’

‘It was lovely, beautiful in fact.’ I took a gulp of my latte. ‘It gave me a lot of time to think.’

‘Ah, so you’ve told them about your globetrotting plans then eh?’ Marie plopped on the sofa downing her coffee as if it held the elixir of life.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ My mum swiftly turned her head sparrow-like at me. I picked up my cup to stall for time. She scoffed at stories of confused women grabbing their passport to ‘find themselves’. She viewed them as irresponsible and selfish with heads full of hippy mumbo-jumbo.

I took a deep breath. ‘Well, not quite. When we were away Marie encouraged me to make a little list of the countries I’d like to see and the things I’d like to experience.’

She let out a shrill laugh. ‘Oh our Georgia has always been one for daydreaming, hasn’t she, Len? Remember that time when she decided to run off to join a convent after watching The Sound of Music on repeat? She was convinced the bus at the end of the road would take her to Austria but only managed to do the town circuit before we found her with a plastic bag full of Tesco strudels by the church hall.’

My dad smiled at the memory before clocking my flustered face. ‘I’m afraid you got your sense of direction from me, pet.’

‘It’s lucky you’ve got me around as otherwise Lord knows where you and your dad would end up,’ my mum cooed.

‘Actually, Sheila, Georgia was serious about this trip,’ Marie piped up.

The room stood still for a moment. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. I do hope you are joking?’ My mum was death-staring me out.

I let out a small fake laugh: ‘Yeah, yeah. Just a joke, wasn’t it, Marie?’

Marie looked confused. ‘You said you wanted to get out there and explore more. It wasn’t just a silly game,’ she mumbled into her mug.

‘Hmm. Well, we’re just glad to have you both back in one piece. I couldn’t cope over there with that foreign food and UV factors. No, much better to stick with what you know.’ My mum shook her head, looking queasy at the thought of a dodgy dim sum.

‘I don’t know, love.’ My dad turned to my mum. ‘They say travelling is a great soul enricher.’

‘Ha,’ she snorted, ‘a soul enricher! Well, you tell me that when she’s lying in some third world hospital after eating a steak that turned out to be a rabid dog. The muggings, the rapes, the murders. Oh no, I’m much happier she’s staying here. She couldn’t cope with all that.’ She wafted her hand around.

It was as if those things didn’t happen in the UK – well, maybe not the dog steak – although the kebab shop by Marie’s did smell a little dodgy at times. ‘Is that what you think of me?’ I mumbled.

‘Oh Georgia,’ she sighed, ‘you’ve been in a pickle here, but you can’t just up and leave. What about your job, your friends…us? I think you’re being ridiculous. You’re 28 years old and have had a bit of a shock, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean running away and leaving everyone else to pick up the pieces.’ She looked appalled at the thought.

We sat in an awkward silence. Thankfully Marie understood that situations like these were not the time or the place for a heated disagreement, no matter how much she was chomping at the bit to stick up for me.

‘Well, I think it’s a cracking idea, love,’ my dad grinned, breaking the stifling atmosphere. ‘Before I met your mother, me and a couple of mates had a lot of fun interrailing around Europe. May not seem that exotic now, but we got up to some right adventures on that trip.’ He sighed wistfully, lost in a faded memory. Before he could get any more nostalgic, my mum swiftly dug a sharp elbow into his arm that signalled him to stop encouraging their daughter.

‘Well, it was just that. A silly idea, so don’t worry.’ I stared pleadingly at Marie to move the conversation on before my mum collapsed, but she was fiddling with a sachet of sugar, no doubt sulking that I’d ridiculed her travel wish-list plan. ‘So, how did you spend Saturday?’ I asked as breezily as I could, knowing that Alex hadn’t just hurt me when he’d called off our wedding. My mum had been bragging about it for months to anyone and everyone we knew. There’s going to be a chocolate fountain, a harpist and even rumours that Kate Middleton’s going to show up, I mean can you imagine?!

‘We just had a quiet day; the weather was very poor so we pottered around the house. The photos would’ve been awful with the grey skies, love,’ my dad said.

‘I guess. Did Marie tell you I gave him back my key last night? Well, not to him personally. I don’t even want to think about hearing from him again,’ I babbled, feeling that ache in my stomach at leaving our house last night claw at me.

My parents quickly fixed their gaze deep into the bottom of their cups, my mum shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘What?’ I asked, as confusion rose in my voice.

Her pale blue eyes filled with tears. ‘We need to give you this letter, Georgia. It’s from him.’ My mum slowly pulled a sealed envelope out of her handbag. ‘Your dad…well, he sort of asked him to write it.’

I rubbed at my forehead. ‘What? I don’t understand. Why would you be speaking to him? When did you speak to him?’ Marie looked as clueless as I did. My dad was tearing up pieces of the paper napkin under his shortbread, avoiding my stare, getting buttery fingers and crumbs everywhere.