‘She’ve never struck me as someone with a dicky ticker,’ Huw said, glasses firmly on his nose, hands firmly on his steering wheel as they trundled conservatively down the M4, two miles an hour under the speed limit.
‘Well, exactly,’ said Liz. ‘I mean, she’s hardly fat, is she, Huw? I wouldn’t call her fat …’
‘Noooo, not fat as such – but not skinny neither. I’d call it …’ He struggled to find the right word. He didn’t want to be too complimentary in his description of Patricia Harris, because if truth be told he’d always found her quite attractive. In a dirty, sluttish, Jackie Kennedy-esque kind of a way. ‘I’d say she was … well-proportioned.’
‘Pfffff, makes her sound like a sideboard!’
‘Er, OK … comely?’
‘Comely??? What, like a comely wench?’ Liz laughed.
‘Let’s say curvaceous then!’ Huw finally conceded, regretting it instantly and going bright giveaway red.
‘Oh my good Lord, do you fancy her, Huw?’
‘Excuse me, this conversation is hideous,’ Catrin interrupted, much to Huw’s relief. ‘That’s Judith’s mother you’re talking about!’
‘Sorry, yes, sorry,’ said Liz, crossing herself. ‘God rest her mean-spirited soul.’
‘And she’s not dead!’ Catrin exclaimed. Her parents were unbelievable sometimes.
‘The point is,’ Liz continued, ‘all your father is sayin’ is that Patricia Harris don’t look like your usual candidate for a heart attack, do she, Huw?’
And once again they were off, discussing various people they knew who had suffered heart attacks and comparing their physical stature with that of Patricia Harris, before launching in to discuss numerous diets, Liz fixating on the merits of the F-plan when it came to shifting the pounds. ‘I’m telling you, Huw, it’s baked potatoes morning, noon and night and the woman lost three and a half stone!’
An hour later, Catrin and Lana were sat in the airport lounge, miserably drinking their second coffee, staring at the information board and waiting for the revelation of a gate number. Lana suggested there was no point in all of them waiting, and maybe Mr and Mrs Kelly would like to be heading home. But Huw wouldn’t hear of it. ‘And what happens if the flight is cancelled and me an’ Liz are merrily wending our way back over the Severn Bridge, leaving you stranded on some airport bench?’
Lana wondered if Catrin’s parents would be happier if the whole trip was cancelled. But more than that, she wondered if Catrin herself wished it was cancelled. ‘It just all feels wrong, Larn,’ whispered Catrin forlornly. ‘Like it’s doomed or something.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Lana said, though without much conviction.
But suddenly she was interrupted by a familiar voice. ‘Girls!’
They looked up and were met by the strangest of sights: walking towards them was … Gareth! And walking alongside him, passport in hand, rucksack on back, beaming smile on face, was Judith.
‘Oh my God, Jude! You came!’ screeched Catrin.
‘Babes! I don’t understand … what about your …’ stammered Lana.
‘Long story,’ interrupted Judith.
‘Found her at the bus stop by Lipton’s, I did,’ said Gareth, with a hero’s grin. ‘Bit hit and miss gettin’ here, like. Probably got a few points on my licence, but it’ll be worth it.’
‘Well, good God!’ declared Huw.
‘Cheers, Gareth,’ said Judith quietly, standing there in awkward gratitude as Lana planted a massive kiss on Gareth’s beaming face.
‘Haven’t I just got the best boyfriend in the world?’ she said.
‘Gate twenty-three!’ shouted Liz hysterically, who’d been watching the departures board like a hawk. ‘Gate Twenty-Three! Come on! Go you!’
Judith and Lana screamed with excitement and grabbed their bags. Catrin, seemingly stunned that they were actually, finally leaving, hurriedly hugged her parents and followed her two best friends as they made their way towards the gates. They’d not gone far when Catrin stopped in her tracks. Lana and Judith had gone several steps before they noticed. ‘What’s up?’ Lana called back.
‘I can’t do it,’ whispered Catrin, her voice drowned out by the airport noise.
‘What you on about?’ asked Judith, ducking out of the way of oncoming passengers.
‘I just … I’m homesick already. You two are braver than me.’
‘Bollocks we are,’ said Lana. ‘You’re much better travelled than me an’ her. You’ve been to Majorca!’
‘And Yugoslavia,’ added Judith, who’d made no secret of the fact that she’d always envied Catrin’s family holidays.
‘Furthest us two have been is that crappy youth-club trip to Belgium,’ said Lana.
‘And Bristol Zoo, to be fair,’ said Judith with a wry smile, and Catrin managed to smile back.
Final Call for passengers Harris, Kelly and Lloyd booked on to flight AF369 to Athens, came a tinny, nasal announcement over the PA system. Please make your way immediately to Gate Twenty-Three, where boarding is about to close.
All three ignored it.
‘Aw Cat! Come here,’ said Judith. ‘Lana! Group hug, come on!’ And the three of them huddled together amidst the throng of holidaymakers. ‘We are going to have the best time, OK?’
‘Yes, she’s right,’ said Lana.
‘Sorry,’ sniffled Catrin. ‘I’m being silly, I know …’ and a sob caught in her throat; she felt like a tired four-year-old.
‘OK, so you know what we need to do?’ asked Lana, a wicked smile in her eyes.
‘No, Lana,’ said Judith, laughing. ‘We are not singing the song. Not here!’
Catrin started laughing through her teariness. ‘We’ve got to get on the plane!’
‘Not before we sing the song. You know you want to,’ said Lana. ‘It always works!’
Back in 1973, when the girls first met in Mrs John’s class, Catrin’s father had invented a silly song, which he’d sing to the tune of ‘She’ll Be Coming Round the Mountain’. Ever since then it had been their anthem. And as they stood, arms around each other’s shoulders in a group hug, the trio of best friends – two of them reluctantly at first – launched into their well-worn theme tune.
Catrin Kelly, Judith Harris, Lana Lloyd!
Fell into a muddy ditch and got annoyed
All their clothes they were a-smellin’
So they went back to Coed Celyn
Catrin Kelly, Judith Harris, Lana Lloyd!
‘Here’s to Greece!’ shouted Lana.
‘To Greece!’ shouted Judith and Catrin, and off they ran, towards Gate Twenty-Three.
6
Catrin
Catrin need not have worried. Three weeks later, her anxiety about leaving home had vanished without a trace into the hot Aegean. She couldn’t believe she’d ever doubted coming – she was having the time of her life. The three of them had soaked up the sun to saturation point and were living on a diet that largely comprised ouzo and olives.