Enervate (adj.) – Lacking physical, mental or moral vigour
Eddie, our saviour and petrol pump attendant, had filled up a jerry can and driven us back to The Beast, where Cara, who looked a picture of calm, was sitting idly flicking through her magazines under the shade of a tree. Thanks to this knight in grubby overalls, we’d made it to the hostel, which was mercifully nothing like the place we’d stayed the night before. Tonight’s accommodation was like a large wooden ski chalet full of homely charm – from the soft tartan blankets lying on the squishy sofas of the common room to the admittedly basic but clean and welcoming bedrooms. Cara hadn’t even been able to grumble about the communal showers, as they were newly refurbished and there was even free shampoo and conditioner on offer. No five-minute rule here.
She’d been playing her ‘get ready’ playlist that she’d pre-prepared for the night, and both she and Shelley had been on a walk down memory lane as they reminisced over some obscure Australian pop songs from the late nineties blasting out of the travel speakers.
‘So, to get us all in the mood, I’ve bought some things with me!’ I smiled and delved into my backpack.
‘Oh, that reminds me!’ Cara jumped to her bare feet, almost knocking over the mini bottle of Prosecco she’d given each of us as we got ready. ‘I’ve got some gifts too!’
Shelley placed her eyeliner lid back on and turned around smiling at the pair of us. ‘Girls, you didn’t have to do that.’
‘Me first,’ Cara said, ignoring Shelley’s protestations that us just being here was a gift in itself. I was still trying to reach into the bottom of my bag. ‘This one is for you.’ She passed Shelley a white vest top and handed me a pale peach-coloured one. ‘Georgia, we’ve got the same. I thought we could all wear these when we go out tonight.’
I pulled my hand out of my bag. ‘Oh, I bought a top for us all to wear too,’ I mumbled, but was overshadowed by Shelley falling into a fit of giggles as she opened up the top and read aloud.
‘“Soon-to-be Mrs Priors!” I love it!’
I glanced up at the vest top that Cara was holding for me. It read ‘Bride Tribe’ in gorgeous swirly glittery rose-gold font. Suddenly, my cheap fluorescent pink t-shirts, which that I’d picked up in Primark and on which a lady at the indoor market had ironed a crispy ‘Girls on tour’ logo in garish neon yellow, seemed even more naff next to these classy-looking tops.
‘Erm, wow. Thanks.’ I forced a smile, feeling the expensive, cashmere-like material.
‘I’ve also got us one of these hen-do bags each.’ She pulled out three perfectly wrapped brown paper packages and handed them out. Inside was chewing gum, plasters, posh make-up wipes, bottles of FIJI water, hair bobbles with a note that said ‘to have and to hold your hair back’, and some aspirin.
‘I thought we could do with a hangover kit tomorrow.’ Cara nonchalantly shrugged, but inside I could see how chuffed she was with Shelley’s reaction.
‘This is perfect! Isn’t this a great idea, Georgia?’
‘Yeah, erm, great.’
‘Wait – what’s this!’ Shelley burst into a fit of giggles as she pulled out a pregnancy kit, hidden in amongst the other items. ‘A preggo test?’
Cara blushed slightly. ‘Well, you never know how wild this night will be!’
I glanced down at the pink box. ‘I don’t want to be a party pooper, but I’m not sure how crazy it’s going to get. Did you not see how small this town is!’
‘Meh, whatever, we may be in the back end of nowhere but that won’t stop us bringing a touch of city glamour to the place.’
‘If this is glamour then I’m not sure I want to see what you get up to on a normal night out!’ I laughed.
‘Did you say you had some stuff too?’ Cara asked me.
I shook my head, shoving the pregnancy sticks back in the bag. ‘I must have left them at home.’ I decided against pulling out the hen-do stash that I’d brought with me, the collection of hilarious willie games and penis-shaped sweets suddenly felt very cheap, tacky and naff.
We decided to have some pre-drinks in the hostel common room and wandered in, clutching a carrier bag of booze and wearing our matching vest tops, Cara and Shelley’s both fitting like a second skin, whereas I looked and felt like doner meat wrapped in cling film.
Already well established in the room, sprawled on the royal blue sofas, were three lads huddled over a tablet watching what sounded like a football game, and two girls swiping their phone screens in silence. My heart fell. It was like the hostel common room from last night all over again.
I caught Shelley’s eye.
‘Hey, guys! How you all doing?’ she asked, going into over-the-top friendly traveller mode. The booze had clearly started to kick in.
The three lads looked up and immediately rearranged themselves to appear interested now they’d clocked Cara sauntering in.
‘All right?’ one of them said, muting the game. ‘What you up to?’
‘We, my friends, are here to celebrate this one getting married!’ I said, spotting the two girls put their phones down as they heard the rustle of plastic bag in my hands. ‘Fancy a drink?’
Within seconds, technology was forgotten, plastic glasses were found and large slugs of alcohol were poured out. Turned out the three lads in their late twenties were from Newcastle and had been working on a nearby farm picking oranges for months to extend their working visas. They’d taken a holiday to come and hike the Grampians. All three were single and Cara soon found herself seated between them as they asked her about life in Sydney, the next place on their travel itinerary. The two girls were friends from Sweden who were also driving the Great Ocean Road but going in the opposite direction; we made sure they knew not to stay at the strange hostel from last night.
‘Oh God,’ one of the guys groaned under his breath as the door to the common room swung open and in plodded a woman who I guessed was in her mid-thirties. She was as short as she was round and seemed to be sweating under her thick tortoiseshell glasses as she cast an inquisitive glance around the room.
‘What, do you mean “oh God”?’ Cara asked the lads, who’d picked up their tablet once more.
‘You’ll see,’ one of them replied, and hurriedly turned the volume back on the football match.
The late arrival came and sat in the gap next to me, plonking her wide butt down with a shove, then rearranged her baggy t-shirt, which had a cartoon dog on the front, its nose squished into the folds underneath her large bust.
‘I’m Sarah-Jane.’ She offered me a small, warm hand.
‘Hey, Georgia.’ I smiled.
‘So, what are you guys drinking?’ She leant forward and peered into our cups, sticking her nose so deeply into the glass I thought she was going to snort the liquid up.
‘Oh, erm, wine. Do you want some?’ I offered politely. I could see the guys behind Cara making a hand gesture as if they were slicing at their necks.
Sarah-Jane pondered for a moment and tucked her brown hair behind her ears. ‘Oh, okay then. I guess I will.’
She didn’t wait for me to hand her the bottle on the table, instead she grabbed a glass and poured a very generous serving and smacked her lips together as she slugged it down in one.
‘So, what are you celebrating?’ she asked, wiping red wine that was dripping down her stubby chin.
‘Shelley here is getting married next week.’ Shelley waved and flashed her engagement ring. Sarah-Jane just looked her up and down, rocking a confused expression, as if trying to work out why we were all wearing matching vest tops.
‘Pfft.’ She tutted and refilled her glass without asking. Shelley’s face was a picture; most people she told at least acted like they were interested. ‘Married? Why would you want to do that?’ She didn’t pause long enough to let Shelley answer before she was off again. I would soon learn that Sarah-Jane liked the sound of her own nasally voice. ‘I was married once. BIG mistake.’ The lads let out a whooping cough to hide their sniggers of surprise that someone had wanted to take Sarah-Jane up the aisle.
She ignored them and continued. ‘Never again. Seriously. You should think long and hard about this decision. It’s not too late to back out. My sister tried to tell me not to marry him, but I ignored her. And do you know what she said to me afterwards?’ She turned to face Shelley.
‘Erm …’
‘She said, I told you so. And do you know what I’ll say to you?’
‘Let me guess …’
‘I told you so.’ She took off her glasses, let out a short sharp puff of air to fog up each lens and used the edge of her t-shirt to wipe them clean, inadvertently flashing her doughy white stomach as she did.
‘Oh, right, well, we have a little more hope for Shelley and Jimmy,’ I said politely, trying to ignore the three lads almost pissing themselves in the corner that we’d been stuck with the hostel guest it seemed no one wanted.
‘Hmm, you’ll see.’ Sarah-Jane pushed her glasses back up her stubby nose with her index finger and stared at me. ‘Never again. So, how did you get here? Is that your truck out front?’
I nodded.
‘I thought so. I said to myself, Sarah-Jane, that looks like a new truck, I bet there’s new people staying here. I’ve been here a few days now. Always come and stay here. It’s my third time doing the Grampians; done all the big trekking routes around here.’ If she noticed everyone’s eyes widen at her plump frame in disbelief, she didn’t let on. ‘You come in by the west or east?’ she continued, deciding that I was going to be her buddy for the evening, whether I liked it or not.
‘Oh, I really don’t kn—’
‘See, the east is the best as you get the views, but if you come from the west it’s an easier drive.’ She interrupted me again. ‘I said to myself that next time I’d try a different route, but I like what I know, you know? It’s better to stick with what you know. That’s what I’ve learnt over the years. Much easier that way.’
She eventually paused to take another swig of her, sorry, our wine. I glanced at Cara and Shelley for some help, but they were deep in conversation with each other. The pair of bitches.
‘Hmm,’ I mused politely.
‘Now, let me tell you, the road that’s just off by the big petrol station, you know the one that passes over by the campsite? You should never use that one.’ She sucked air through her yellowing teeth. ‘Big mistake. I always tell myself that. I say, Sarah-Jane, don’t even think about going that route. I’ve been here three times now, did I tell you that?’
Oh God, kill me now.
‘Well, we all made it here safely, I guess that’s the main thing.’ I smiled brightly, trying to do that typically British thing of nodding my head and pressing my lips together as if about to say something else, but staying silent, hoping the conversation would dry up so I could escape.
Sarah-Jane took off her glasses and breathed heavily on each lens again. ‘You say that, but actually did you know that …’
And so it continued, and, before I knew it, I was being lectured on the Australian road network.
‘Right, let’s finish these then head out before she gets back!’ Cara cried a few minutes after Sarah-Jane had gone to get a pen and paper to draw out a map for me to fully understand its intricacies.
I got to my feet, realising that Sarah-Jane had nicked my drink and I was all out. I’d not even managed to finish one glass since we’d arrived.
‘Who’s with us?’ Shelley asked.
As much as the footy-loving lads had enjoyed an impromptu drink, they passed when we said we were heading out. Apparently they had an early start tomorrow to get back to their work and the boss had no problems with docking wages or kicking them out altogether. I suspected that was utter bullshit and they wanted to escape from Sarah-Jane and her never-ending mindless chatter. The two girls were going to cook some dinner at the hostel and then join us later, but they said this without much conviction.
‘I’m in!’ Sarah-Jane strode back in at the precise moment we were heading out.
So we were unable to shake off the most boring woman in the world. Maybe she’d lose interest once we got to the bar and find some other backpackers to hang out with instead. Maybe.