Katy
It still won’t come off. At least I have make up so after an hour of applying foundation over it I look… well, I still look deathly pale, but it's an improvement. I’ve tried to put some foundation on Felix’s face but he looked like a demonic clown and so we cleansed it back off. It’s a lot better than it was, but he still looks severely sunburnt.
We quickly have a coffee and a chocolate biscuit for breakfast and then we’re on our way to our interviews at nine am and ten am.
As we pass the hotel receptionist, she calls out. 'Oh goodness. You really do look washed out this morning. I thought a comfy sleep might help. Have you had something to eat?'
I have to remember she thinks I’m pregnant.
I shake my head. 'No, I couldn’t face anything.'
'Do you think you could handle a slice of toast?'
'Maybe.' I say thinking yes fucking please. 'God, now you’ve said that I’m in the mood for a bacon sandwich. God, cravings are the worst. We’re going to be late now because I need to go get one right away.'
'Wait there.' She says, placing a finger across her lips.
Oh my God, it’s working.
'You realise we’re going to hell for all these lies, don’t you?' Felix says with an amused quirk of his eyebrow.
I look at his red face. 'You’re already there, mate. Must be karma.'
The receptionist comes skulking out with two wrapped sandwiches. 'Here, I know I stuffed my face when I had cravings. If not, I’m sure your husband would eat the other one.' She looks at Felix, her face contorting. ‘My! You must be stressed. Your face is bright red.’
'God, you are like my guardian angel.' I tell her, taking the sandwiches and giving her a quick hug. When I back away she beams.
'Well, I’m guessing you have meetings or something today. Don’t work too hard. You need to rest to grow that baby.'
'Thank you again.' I say as we leave the building.
Once we’re safely in the car, I hand over a bacon sandwich. 'Just be careful not to get greasy marks on your clothes.' I tell Felix who almost snatches the sandwich out of my hand. Moody pants.
The school looks really nice as we walk up the long, gravelled driveway. It apparently dates back to the eighteen hundreds and feels like it's been plucked straight out of Midsummer Murders. We’ve managed to keep our clothes clean which is a miracle with how things have been going against us lately.
The receptionist greets us with an apologetic smile on her face. 'I’m afraid Mrs Tibbins is running behind this morning as her car won’t start.’ Its then she notices our faces, her forehead frowning, clearly trying to work out what the hell happened to us.
‘She’s hoping to be here for ten am, so all the interviews are going to run thirty minutes behind. If you could take a seat in the waiting room,' she points to a door. 'The nine-thirty am interviewee is already in there.'
We knock and walk into the waiting room. Sitting there is a woman who looks to be in her mid-fifties. She has mid-brown wavy hair, between short and mid length; and really rosy chubby cheeks.
'Oooh, competition, just kidding!' She kind of singsongs. 'Sit down and we can have a singalong or something while we wait. Ha, only joking again.' She says with a laugh that contains a snort.
I may throat punch her, she’s too fucking happy for words. Especially this early in the morning.
'Mavis Bromley.' She holds out a hand and Felix shakes it, so I follow suit. I can’t be rude, can I?
'Oh my goodness,' she looks at Felix’s face. 'Did your parents not tell you about applying sun lotion? I bet they did and I bet like mine you’re all "oh leave me alone, mother, I know what I’m doing", but do you? Do you? No, you go get a girl preg- I mean you get all sunburned. You’ll have to keep an eye out on that now for skin cancer you know, and in future factor fifty, you just can’t risk anything less.'
She looks at me. 'Like this lady here. You’ve used factor fifty or stayed completely in the shade haven’t you, with that porcelain complexion? It’ll keep you young looking, my dear.'
I take a seat, trying my hardest not to laugh.
'Right, well I think the least they can do if they’re seeing us late is offer us a drink. I’ll go place an order. What would you like?'
We tell her two coffees and she’s out of the door in a flash.
'Fucking hell,' Felix says on an exhale as soon as she’s out of the room. 'She never paused for breath.'
'This delay should be entertaining.' I tell him sarcastically.
When she comes back she tells us that she’s going for the job as she believes it’s her duty to help people in any way she can. That she left teaching for a while to help her husband set up a caravan business, but she realises that God blessed her with the ability to teach and when she saw this job she knew it was meant to be. Then she apologised to us for the fact she’d probably get it. Unbelievable.
Well two can play the crazy card.
'I had a message come to me in church, that I needed to apply,' I tell her. 'And then a little boy came up and handed me his toy boat and said it came from Scarborough and I thought, this is a sign.'
'Oh,' she says, her mouth closing for once. I should take a picture of her being speechless and post it to her husband. That’s one for the fridge.
Felix rolls his eyes behind her, with a grin.
'So, what’s this about you having a caravan business? That sounds exciting,' Felix asks.
What the fuck is he doing encouraging her to talk?
'Oh yes, we have them here in Scarborough where we live, then there’s a few more in Skegness and some in Mablethorpe. Get to have holidays whenever we like. It’s fabulous.'
'Though you’ll not be able to do that if you get this job,' I point out.
'Oh, there are weekends and school holidays,’ she says dismissively. ‘Anyway, I have faith. Everything will turn out as it should.’
I wish I could be so bloody blindly optimistic.
‘So where are you kids from?'
Felix launches into a complete crock of shit about us being made redundant from a school we were at. He says we have an interview in Skegness tomorrow but is "not sure we’ll make it as our finances have run right down and we may have to drive back home".' He puts on his puppy dog eyes. I have to admit they’re effective.
'Oh, you poor things.' I swear you can see the cogs whirring in her head. 'I have a spare caravan in Skegness. You two are more than welcome to use it for a couple of days.’
Well, now I feel bad for thinking so badly of her.
‘It’s clean but awaiting refurbishment, so it’s a little on the tatty side: broken cupboard doors and frayed material on the sofas. But I’m thinking that whoever gets the job today, I was sent here to meet the two of you and aid you on your journey. Now let me get you the address and key code for the key box.' She goes rifling through her large handbag.
Okay, so we’re staying in a shit tip, but its free accommodation, right?
There’s a knock on the door. 'Miss Cornish?' the receptionist calls. 'Would you like to come through for your interview?'
The interview—for the first time since I started this journey—goes really well. I leave with the impression they liked me, and I might just get the job. Thank bloody God.
I open the door to the waiting room and Mavis beams at me as the receptionist calls her name. 'May the best teacher win.' She says with a jolly shrug. 'Enjoy the caravan.'
I close the door behind her. 'Enjoy the caravan, huh?' I say to Felix. 'Ripped up shit. I can’t wait.'
He narrows his eyes at me. 'Katy, I thought you were living by the seat of your pants?' he chides me.
'Yeah, with my arse on a comfy cushion.' I complain.
'Well, never fear, because your stunningly handsome companion has done it again.' He looks very, very smug. I want to smack the smirk off his face. Or kiss it.
'Now what? Is there anyone you don’t manage to charm?' I fold my arms across my waist and then realise what I just said. 'Except me of course, I’m immune.'
'If you say so,' he says annoyingly. 'Anyway, we now have an empty standard caravan and in turn I just have to spend a few hours on the old one. I’m quite handy and from the sounds of it it’s straightening a few cupboards and stapling new fabric. She’s told me the tools are hidden in the wardrobe in the van. So I now have two caravan codes and we’re sleeping in the nice one. Or,' He says, with a mischievous twinkle to his eyes, 'I get the nice one and you’re in the old one. Might make sense if you’re immune to my charms. I don’t want you to get infected.'
He wouldn’t bloody dare.
'You’re the one who looks infected.' I point to his face and laugh.
'Oh yeah,' Felix adds, 'that reminds me. Our last pound will be getting used. Apparently baby oil removes face paint. Mavis told me. So we need that and some cotton wool.'
* * *
'Well, I think we can safely say, I’m not getting that job,' Felix says as we walk out of the building.
'How come?'
'Because they kept staring at my bright red face. All of them. Like really staring. You could tell they were trying to work out if I was sunburned or had really bad blood pressure. One asked if I felt okay, because they could postpone the interview if I needed medical attention.'
I find myself laughing so hard I almost pee.
'So I’m guessing yours went okay?' he asks, clearly digging for information.
'Yes. I slapped myself around the cheeks a little just before I went through and it must have done the trick, along with my make-up. My interview went really well.' I tell him, trying not to openly brag. I don’t want to sound too cocksure in case I don’t get it.
I’m surprised when Felix puts an arm around me. 'Aww, I’m really pleased for you. I hope you get it.'
'Thank you.' I smile back at him, my eyes assessing whether he’s about to shout, "only joking, loser!".
'So, what are we doing with the rest of the day then?' Felix asks. 'It’s only lunchtime, but once we buy the baby oil and cotton wool, we have no money and only a few bits left from what my mum gave me.'
'Let’s just go play on the sand. It’ll take our minds off our stomachs. Then we could go around all the amusements playing your "get the spare change" game.'
'Good idea.' He puts his arm through mine. 'Oh, what we’ve become. Let’s go have some fun.'
I giggle and can’t help but think what a little old married couple we’ve become. Forced to stay together, no sex and bickering constantly. Sounds like your average forty years married.
After cleaning our faces of the face paint, we head to the beach and find an abandoned bucket and spade which some brat must have abandoned mid-tantrum. Both are cracked but they’ll do. We make a ton of sandcastles.
‘Fancy burying me in the sand?’
I laugh. ‘Do I fancy burying you? Oh, more than you know!’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Stop pretending like you could survive without me.’ He lies down, hands behind his head, as if he’s about to fall asleep.
‘Alright there, Prince? Aren’t you worried I’ll ruin your suit?’ I tease.
‘Nah, you can always clean it up with your pube sponge.’
I can’t believe he just said that! My face heats up. I duck my head down to hide it and instead scoop up some sand and plonk it on his lap.
‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’
‘Nope!’ he laughs.
I’m tempted to force his glorious face under when he flicks sand in my eye.
‘You bastard!’
He smiles cheekily back. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t love it.’
And the worrying thing is I do. I’m in big trouble and I know it.
After that we paddle and build a moat around the sandcastles. For anyone looking on we could be mistaken for any other couple on holiday. Well, apart from the stiff suits.
After walking down the beach we come back up to the top of the road where we go in and out of all the amusements, managing to scrounge the grand sum of thirty pence.
We’re just heading back to the hotel when my mobile phone rings. It’s a withheld number. Could it be about a job?
‘Hello?’ I answer far too eagerly.
‘Hello, this is Miss Herts from Scarborough school. I’m ringing up to say that competition for this post has been very strong and although Mrs Tibbins did like you, I’m afraid we’ve offered the position to someone else.’
My heart sinks. I felt sure I was in the running for that one.
'What’s up?' asks Felix, but then his own phone rings so he answers, getting the answer to his own question.
'I’m sorry, Katy.' He says. ‘I’m assuming you got the same call?’
I shrug. 'Sorry to you too. Anyway, no sense in brooding over it. Know any way of making thirty pence turn into profit?' I ask him, trying to lighten the mood. 'Maybe we could go try it in one of the slot machines, see if we can win anything?'
Felix holds up a finger. 'I’ve got an idea. Better prizes than the slots,' he says with a twinkle in his eye. 'Follow me.'
He heads back up to a shop we went into earlier that had a raffle on a table, raising money for an animal sanctuary. 'How much are tickets?' He asks.
'A strip of five is five pounds.' The woman says. 'Or one pound for one ticket.'
I see Felix’s jaw drop in defeat. He turns to walk away.
'Hold on,' I say, rooting around in my bag. Sometimes I throw change in there. Let me see if there’s anything in there. I lean on the main shop counter and scrabble around, finally finding three five pence pieces at the bottom of my bag. 'Sorry,' I admit to him. 'We’re still short.'
'Okay, let’s go,' he says, walking back out of the shop.
'I’m just going to hang around the amusements again, see if I can get any more money,' Felix says with a hopeful smile.
I sigh. 'We really are pathetic right now, you know? I shouldn't have used that twenty quid for petrol, then we wouldn't be in this mess.'
'Yeah but you can't keep putting stuff on your credit card.'
I look around, noticing a gang of six pissed up lads walking down the street. 'You go in the amusements then, I’ll wait here.' I lie.
As soon as he’s gone, I walk up to the lads. I unbutton my top button to show the girls off and swing my hips. As predictable as drunk boys are they catcall as I walk past.
'Hey boys.' I say. 'I’ll flash you my tits for a fiver.'
'Fuck off.' One of them says and they start walking on.
But one who’s staggering more than the rest of them lingers back, patting himself down trying to find his wallet. 'My missus hardly ever shows me her puppies anymore,' he says, 'plus they’re a bit saggy.' He hands me a fiver. 'I wanna really good look.'
I snatch the fiver off him and unbutton another two buttons on my shirt, so he can look over and see down without me showing my tits off to the whole of Scarborough.
'God they’re beautiful,' He says with a wondrous look in his eye. He looks just about to dive in to motorboat them when his friends shout him, and he rushes off ahead not giving me a second glance.
I immediately feel a huge amount of shame about what I just did. What the hell has my life come to?
But that’s nothing as to the look on Felix’s face when his hand grips my arm and I’m spun around to face him.
His mouth is in a snarl, anger emanating from every pore.
'I don’t care if I have to beg to wash up in a café or on the street, but you will never, EVER, do that again. Do you hear me? They could have dragged you off and attacked you and you are so NOT that girl. Now let’s go.'
Wow. I didn’t expect him to even care really, let alone become a protective bear. I keep my head down and stay silent. Nothing I say right now will make any of it better.
He walks me back to the shop, where the top raffle prize is a hamper. He hands over a quid that he must have found in the slots. 'One ticket please.' I keep my mouth shut about my fiver. He’s obviously still livid.
'Pick from there, love.' The woman points to a bucket. 'If it ends in a five or a zero you’re a winner.'
He picks one and I see his face break into a smile. 'I’ve won something.' He announces, looking around at the prizes. ‘I’ve won, erm, Jenga.'
'Ooh, you’ll enjoy that. All the pieces are there, I donated that myself.' Says the woman behind the counter. 'Well done, winning with only one ticket.'
'Yeah, thanks.' Felix says unenthusiastically, picking up the game. I follow him out.
'Well, we can’t exactly feast on Jenga, can we?' He huffs.
Bless him. He obviously did think he was going to win something food related. That blind optimism can sometimes let him down.
'No, but we can go back to the hotel and play it. It gives us something to do tonight.' I say, trying to find a silver lining.
His mood doesn’t seem to change so I offer an apology.
'Look, I’m sorry about what I did. As soon as I’d done it I regretted it. I won’t prostitute myself again, I promise. But it’s done now so can we please go get some food because I could eat my own arm.'
Felix sighs. 'What do you fancy with your prostitution money?'
'Large chip butties are £2.50?' I suggest, practically salivating at the thought of it.
'Lead the way,' he replies, his eyes lit up in excitement.
* * *
God, the chip butty was to die for and we saw a sign for free scraps, little bits of batter, so I asked for some and we ate those too. I still can’t believe Felix had never heard of scraps before. I have them all the time. They’re the tastiest bit sometimes. You should have seen his face when I suggested it; like I was offering him a Bush Tucker trial from I’m a Celebrity. But as predicted he loved them.
'Okay, let's go back to the hotel. We’ve got a bottle of voddie that your mum gave us. Let’s get pissed!'
Felix looks at me with a wicked grin. 'We can play drunk Jenga!'