‘This is Max,’ Josh says, introducing me to a young boy who is playing on the game console. ‘He’s Dan’s cousin. He’s ten, too.’
‘That’s awesome,’ I say enthusiastically. ‘Hey, Max.’
Max smiles nervously and gives me a wave.
‘Well, I’d better get back up to Belle before she turns into Bridezilla and bites my head off,’ I joke. Josh and Max laugh, and so do the two men who are playing pool behind us.
‘OK, see you later, Mia,’ Josh says as he grabs a controller off the table and gets back to his game with Max.
‘Hello,’ I say to the two men by the pool table. ‘I’m Mia, Belle’s sister.’
‘Hi Mia, I’m Jason,’ the younger man says. ‘I’m Heather’s husband.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘Oh right, I haven’t met your wife yet.’
They must be Belle and Dan’s dull couple friends, another pair of early twenty-somethings who thought it would be a brilliant idea to marry young.
The other guy at the pool table looks closer to my age. He’s tall and skinny with spiked, dyed black hair and he’s wearing a tatty jumper with a pair of baggy jeans. He looks stylish and handsome in a scruffy Robert Pattinson kind of way.
‘I’m Mike,’ he says, jokily grabbing my hand and kissing it. ‘I’m Dan’s much better-looking older brother. Did you say you were Belle’s younger sister?’
‘Very smooth,’ I laugh. ‘But no, on paper I am five years older than my sister.’
‘But not married?’ Mike asks.
‘No,’ I reply with an unimpressed look on my face.
‘Hey, I don’t care, I’m thirty and I’m not married either. I’m just letting you know what to expect because I’m getting loads of stick for it. We’ll have to stick together.’
Mike flashes me a cheeky smile. He isn’t my usual type but I can certainly imagine us spending a lot of time together while we’re here, especially if we’re both in the same boat.
‘Well, I’d better get back to Belle,’ I tell them. ‘I’ll see you both at dinner.’
Max, Jason and Mike all seem friendly enough so at least I won’t have to rely on my three-person fan club the whole time – I can have actual conversations with people outside my family.
‘I’m back,’ I announce as I enter the kitchen. Everyone is exactly as I left them and once again, only my granddad seems pleased to see me.
‘Right, let’s get you to your room,’ Belle says. ‘I don’t have time for this.’
I grab my case and follow my sister up the staircase.
‘I just met Max, he’s a little cutie,’ I tell my sister. ‘And I met Jason. Oh and I met Mike, Dan’s brother.’
My sister stops dead in front of me, causing me to walk into her back and drop my suitcase. She turns around slowly.
‘Mia, don’t,’ she pleads.
‘Don’t what?’ I laugh.
‘Mia. Don’t. Don’t even think about it.’
‘Fucking hell, what do you think I am?’ I ask, not wanting or expecting an answer.
‘Mia,’ my sister says firmly, ‘don’t you dare.’
‘This looks intense,’ a familiar male voice says from behind me.
‘We’re fine, Uncle Steve, I’m just showing Mia to her bedroom.’
‘Here.’ My uncle stops to pick up my suitcase. ‘Allow me, that’s too heavy for a young lady to carry.’
As he smiles at me my skin crawls.
‘Cheers, Uncle Steve,’ Belle says brightly. ‘That’s Mia’s room over there. See you both at dinner – it will be ready at seven.’
Belle skips off back downstairs, safe in the knowledge she has warned me off Dan’s brother and that my Uncle Steve will take good care of me.
‘Shall we go to the bedroom?’ Steve says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
I reluctantly nod my head and follow his lead.
My uncle opens the door and allows me to walk in first. I am in a bit of a rubbish mood but it instantly vanishes when I see where I’ll be sleeping. Everything in the room is lily-white, from the sheets on the king-size bed to the curtains that are blowing in the breeze coming in from the balcony. I walk across the room and step out onto the balcony where I take in the view. I have an ocean-facing room with a perfect view of the beach below and the sea which seems to go on for miles before meeting the skyline.
‘Wow,’ I say to myself.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ says my uncle, who I hadn’t realised had followed me. I was hoping he would just put my case down and piss off. ‘Almost as beautiful as you – how is it possible you get more beautiful every time I see you?’
Before my makeover, my uncle – like my Auntie June – never really spoke to me. No one really bothered with me, I was far too plain and boring. People were briefly interested in me when I hit the big-time with my writing, but that didn’t last long. Since my image transformation I have had to endure my uncle’s lecherous comments every time we’ve seen each other. For me, the fact that he is my uncle and that I have known him my entire life is enough to stop me entertaining the idea of us having a sexual relationship, but if that’s not enough reason then throw into the mix the fact that he is fifty-two, married and with a beer belly you could safely rest a pint on. His once dark hair is thinning and flecked with grey and years of smoking have caused his face to wrinkle something rotten. Like I said though, he could look like Gerard Butler and taste like chocolate, it wouldn’t change the fact he is my uncle and it’s weird that he hits on me. I may look like a different person to him but to me he is boring old Uncle Steve, the insurance salesman.
‘Well, I’m going to get in bed,’ I say, yawning for effect, but I am actually knackered so it didn’t take much faking.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ my uncle jokes, kicking his shoes off as he runs back inside before throwing himself onto my bed, messing up the pristine sheets and causing me to throw up in my mouth a little.
I hover around the doorway to the balcony, convinced my only option will be to throw myself off it if I can’t get rid of my pervy uncle. Before I get around to it, my bedroom door is forcibly pushed open to reveal a very angry-looking Auntie June.
‘What the hell is going on in here?’ she bellows at the sight of her husband sprawled out across my bed.
For a few seconds no one says or does anything. No one moves, no one speaks, no one so much as breathes. Even if this doesn’t look bad, it certainly looks weird.
‘Well,’ my auntie snaps. ‘Explain yourselves.’
‘A spider,’ my uncle blurts out. ‘There was a spider in Mia’s bed, and she’s scared of them so I said I’d get rid of it for her.’
‘Uncle of the Year,’ I can’t help but say sarcastically.
‘So there was a spider on Mia’s bed and you killed it?’ my auntie repeats back to him, and it sounds even less believable the second time.
‘Well, no. It got away.’ My uncle shakes his fist at the pesky fictional spider.
‘Right. Well I want to go for a walk before dinner, so come on,’ my auntie says firmly. ‘And Steve….’
‘Yes dear?’ my