“Hello,” I say, “a woman’s work is never done, eh?”
Marvellous with the chat, aren’t I? I can almost hear you taking notes. She does not answer because of the pegs but nods agreeably.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“No thanks,” she says removing the last clothes peg. “It’s all done now.”
“Where’s the rest of the family?”
“My husband has gone down to the beach with his friends.”
“You look as if you’re about to join them.”
“I think I might stay here and read a book. It gets awfully crowded down there.”
“Do you read a lot?”
“I read a bit on holiday.”
I am now following her unasked into her hut.
“I’m reading this at the moment.”
“‘Kiss Off’. Oh, Christopher Wood. I read one of his: ‘Terrible Hard says Alice’. It’s very good. Have you read it? It’s all about the army in Cyprus.”
“Is it sexy like this one?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t read that one – it’s pretty sexy, I suppose.”
“You need something a bit sexy around here.”
Oh yes? I think to myself.
“Not living up to expectations, is it?” I say innocently.
“The first thing my husband did when he got here was unpack his paternoster.”
“Religious, is he?”
“His fishing tackle. That’s all he’s interested in. I thought coming here might bring him out of himself. Inject a little excitement into our lives.” I wouldn’t mind injecting a little excitement into your life, darling, I think. Those lovely curvy tits peeping round the curtains of her blouse.
“I think most blokes would chuck their fishing rods in the dust bin if they saw you looking like that.”
“You’re being very kind.”
“I’m not doing you a favour. It’s the honest truth.”
“He doesn’t spare me a second glance. He spends all his time grumbling because he can’t find any lug worms.”
“Lug worms!”
“I want to go dancing.”
“Of course you do.”
“I’m not unattractive.”
“Unattractive? You’re beautiful.”
“I only want a little fun.”
“Of course you do.”
“It’s not too much to ask, is it?”
“Of course it isn’t.”
“I’m a woman.”
“You wouldn’t find a man in the world who would disagree with you.”
“Oh! What are you doing?”
“I’m kissing you.”
“I thought that was what you were doing. It’s been so long I’ve almost forgotten.”
“Stand by for a refresher course.”
“Oh-o-oh. Supposing somebody comes?”
“They won’t. You’re beautiful.”
“Oh. But they’ll hear us.”
“There isn’t anyone to hear.”
“Oh, that’s heaven. Oh. Oh-o-oh.”
“Judy! Judy!!”
The last words are, unfortunately, not spoken by me, but by someone approaching the hut fast.
“It’s him,” she squeals. “It’s my husband. Get out!”
But I don’t have time to get out. All I can do is dive under one of the low rush beds – and in my condition it is a pretty uncomfortable dive, I can tell you.
“Judy! Darling where are you? I’ve got something to show you—oh, there you are. Look, have you ever seen anything like that before?”
“No. What is it?”
“I think it’s some kind of sea bream. Fantastic, isn’t it? I got it off those rocks by the bathing beach. Hey, wait a minute. Why haven’t you got any clothes on? Supposing somebody came round?”
“Who’s likely to do that?”
“I don’t know. But I must say, you’re looking awfully attractive, darling. Very attractive indeed.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
“Don’t be like that, darling. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately, but I just knew there was a big one holed up somewhere.”
“Your fishing is more important than me.”
“Not any more, darling. Not any more.”
“Ooh, your hands are cold. And they smell of that fish. Can’t you wait ’til tonight?”
“Not with you looking like that, I can’t. Oh, darling.”
“George.”
“Darling.”
“Oh, George.”
And the next thing I know this bloody ugly fish drops down beside me so it is staring me straight in the eye. George and Judy collapse on to the bed and I am pinned underneath it while they bang away like a couple of vibrating springboards. What a way to spend your lunch hour!
At least I think, as I gaze into the cold, dead eye beside me, and try and massage the crick in my neck, I have helped to bring a little romance into two of our customers’ lives.
I can never look at a fish without wincing after that and I wish I could say that the fruits of my sacrifice were reflected in an upsurge in the sex life of the camp as a whole.
Unfortunately this is not the case and when I next see Sid he is sitting in his office clutching an airmail letter in the hand that is not clapped to his forehead.
“Look at this,” he says. “We’re in the shit now.”
When he says “we” I realise that things must be serious. “We” is a clear sign that Sid is preparing to spread the load.
I read the letter which is from Sir Giles and says that he is planning to visit the island in the next few days and “personally solicit a reaction to the standard and extent of the amenities provided”.
“You have got a problem, Sid,” I say, “but don’t worry, we’ve killed most of the lice.”
“Mosquitoes, not lice, you twit!” screeches Sid. “How many times do I have to tell you? There are no lice, bed bugs or ticks on this island, except those brought by the customers. Now don’t forget it.”
“Sorry, Sid. Well, the food then. The cases of food poisoning have dropped dramatically in the last few days.”
“There you go again,” rants Sid. “Sunstroke, that’s what it is. People stay out in the sun too long and