Destination Thailand. Katy Colins

smiled at Marie’s sleepy face and matted hair. ‘Hey, I’m going to head back to the hotel.’

      ‘Great idea, pass me that bottle of water and we’ll go. How long was I asleep? Did I miss anything?’ she asked between gulps, wincing at the heat and combing her fingers through her hair.

      ‘Nah, not much,’ I said casually, deciding to give the list some more thought before I told her my radical ideas. ‘So what happened with Baywatch boy?’ I asked nodding towards Ali’s cabin.

      She huffed and flicked back her head. ‘Turns out he’s gay.’

      I tried to stifle a laugh. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Well, I did my classic lean-over-the-bar-to-suggestively-pick up-a-straw-manoeuvre. I swear that technique has never failed before.’

      ‘Isn’t that how you ended up pregnant with Cole?’ I teased.

      She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Exactly! See, I told you, it’s a golden flirting style. Anyway, he didn’t even flinch. It was like my cleavage sparked nothing in his underwear department.’

      ‘So because of that you think he’s gay?’

      ‘No. But even when I licked my lips and walked over to him, Kim Kardashian-butt out and everything, he was too obsessed with watching these guys playing beach volleyball to notice!’

      ‘Maybe he just really, really loves sport?’ I suggested. She rolled her eyes, annoyed at having such a blot on her impeccable seduction record.

      ‘Trust me, I know. Let’s just say he was more interested in watching the guys grease up with sun lotion, than keeping track of the score.’

      ‘Ah, oh well. Hey, you know that I still love you.’

      She smiled and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Georgia. We came here to help sort you out, not for Turkish hotties to put me in a bad mood.’ She stroked my arm. ‘At least I know my straw technique still works, well for straight men anyway,’ she laughed.

      Listening to her talking it suddenly hit me that this was what I’d need to be doing now that I was single. Finding ways of attracting men’s attention. If Marie found it hard Lord knows how I was going to cope. I physically shuddered at being reminded that I was now flying solo. I was no longer someone’s better half, fiancée, or girlfriend. It was just me and soon I’d have to dive head-first into the ever shrinking dating pool. Oh God.

      ‘You OK, hun? You’ve gone a little pale under your sunburn.’ Marie’s voice brought me back to the present.

      ‘Yeah, yeah. Just a little tired.’

      ‘Right, well let’s head back, get some food and then we’ll get ready to head out and see what nightlife this town has to offer. And I’m not taking no for an answer.’

      It was our last night here, and even though I’d handled the day pretty well so far, who knew what a few more cocktails could do to my fragile resolve? However, in the spirit of making changes to what now seemed like a pathetic life, maybe being forced out of my pit and into the bright lights of bar street would be a good idea.

      ‘Fine,’ I nodded

      ‘What?!’ Marie leaned over and hugged me. ‘I was convinced you’d say no.’

      ‘Well, maybe I’m going to try saying yes to more things from now on,’ I smiled.

      ‘That’s great, Georgia. See, I knew coming here would be the best thing for you. Tonight’s going to be awesome I can just feel it.’

      *

      Although being scrawny rather than slender, due to my recent loss of appetite – surely the only bonus in a breakup – looking at my reflection, I didn’t recognise myself. Staring back was a glamorously made-up woman, her slightly acne-pocked skin camouflaged in heavy bronzer, her glossy brown blow-dried hair framing her almond-shaped eyes, and a slick of lipstick staining her angel-bud lips. Marie had insisted on giving me a makeover, so the face that shone in the glass was nothing like the old Georgia, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I felt self-conscious in my outfit. My hot pink clutch bag matched the vertiginous stilettos that she’d pressured me into borrowing, ignoring my protests that I walked like a drunk Tina Turner in heels.

      ‘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,