Destination India. Katy Colins

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СКАЧАТЬ on cue, Marie walked in – her green eyes darted around the gloom of the pub until they found us. ‘Oh my God, Georgia!’ A huge grin broke on her face as she ran over and squeezed me tight. ‘You never come out; what are you doing here? I haven’t heard from you in ages.’

      I winced. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve just been …’

      ‘Busy, yeah, yeah, I know. Well the odd text back would be nice,’ she said before shaking her head. ‘Anyway, how are things?’

      ‘Marie!’ Shelley’s voice boomed making Marie jump. ‘How you doing, chick?’

      Marie almost stumbled back in surprise. ‘Shelley, what are you doing here? I thought you were going round Europe?’

      ‘Yeah, I was. Managed to Interrail round a few places but then Manchester sort of stole my heart.’

      ‘Yeah, Manchester and Jimmy,’ I teased.

      ‘Ben’s best mate? The beefcake?’ Marie asked.

      ‘Yep, that’s the one.’ I laughed.

      ‘So what are you up to? Having a girly night in the pub together?’ The question was light enough but I could sense Marie bristling slightly.

      ‘Yeah kinda. We decided to sod the packing and come and get a few drinks in us in preparation for tomorrow.’ Shelley grinned.

      ‘Packing? Tomorrow?’ Marie repeated.

      ‘Did Georgia not tell you? We’re off to India!’ Shelley wrapped her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me.

      ‘India?’ Marie echoed. I nodded. ‘Ah, great,’ she said in a tone that sounded very un-great. ‘No, erm, she didn’t say.’

      Shelley didn’t pick up on the faux-friendly tones and continued to babble on. ‘Yeah, flying into Delhi and then maybe have a little trip around, take in the sights, head over to Bollywood before catching some sun on a beach in Goa. Lord knows this Aussie bird needs a good dose of vitamin D.’ She laughed, rubbing her freckled forearms.

      Mike stood up to give Marie a peck on the cheek and a small glass of wine, which she almost necked in one.

      ‘You … you’re going to Bollywood?’ Marie faced me.

      ‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Mike chipped in.

      Marie turned to him. ‘So you knew about this?’

      ‘Only just heard before you got here, babe,’ Mike said, putting his hands up defensively and making a speedy exit back to the bar, mumbling something about buying a bag of pork scratchings.

      ‘Right, great, well I hope you have a fantastic time,’ Marie said through gritted teeth. Shelley must have picked up on the tension between us and hurried off to the fruit machines.

      ‘I’m sorry for not calling you before now. I’ve been meaning to call you for ages,’ I said quietly.

      ‘Mmmm.’ Marie gulped her drink and avoided eye contact. ‘Well my number’s not changed.’

      An old man hacking up a load of phlegm and the repetitive tinny music from the fruit machines were the only sounds breaking this awkward silence that had settled around us.

      ‘So, Bollywood, huh?’

      ‘Marie, it’s not like that.’

      ‘Oh really?’ She whipped her flaming red hair towards me, put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. ‘Tell me, Georgia, what is it like?’

      ‘Well, you’d actually laugh about it,’ I said, rolling my eyes at how the trip to India had even come about.

      ‘You think this is funny?’ I stopped smiling and looked to the floor. ‘You want to know something funny?’ By the look of her pinched mouth I wasn’t sure that I did. ‘I encourage my best friend to go off backpacking after being a jilted bride; I was there fully supporting her, helping her to get over the really shitty thing that had happened to her. And what do I get in return?’

      ‘Wait I –’

      ‘No you wait. If I don’t say this now when will I get the chance again?’ I nodded and swallowed the lump in my throat that had suddenly risen.

      ‘I understand that you’re busy with work but I never hear from you; you never return my calls or answer my texts. Then I randomly walk in here for a drink with my boyfriend and see you and your cool backpacking friend sitting here laughing. Only to find out that you and her are jetting off to India tomorrow, to a place I’ve always wanted to go. I mean, fucking Bollywood! Did it not occur to you that maybe, just maybe, your actress friend would want to experience that with you? Or are you too busy being backpacker businesswoman Georgia to notice?’ Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them back.

      ‘Marie, I’m sorry. I understand that it might look like this from your perspective, but trust me, it’s nothing like that.’ I placed my hand on my chest feeling like I wanted to cry too.

      ‘Is this because I’ve got a kid? Or because I’m just working as a mobile hairdresser? Not cultured enough or fancy enough for you now?’

      ‘No!! Of course it’s nothing to do with that. I’m sorry for being a crap friend; I’ve just had a lot going on but as soon as I get back I’ll make this up to you, I promise.’

      She continued to glare at me. ‘It might be too late then.’ With that she turned on her heel and got lost in the pub.

      I should have raced after her, apologising to her for being a shitty friend recently, but the truth was I was tired. Tired of messing things up, tired of having people tell me they were worried about me, tired of letting people down and feeling their disappointment.

      I was tired of it all.

       CHAPTER 8

       Drawn (adj.) Tense; fatigued

      We’d overslept. I must have cancelled the three alarms I’d set on my phone as the sound of the pre-booked taxi impatiently beeping its horn woke me with a start.

      ‘Shit! Shell, get up; we are really fucking late!’ I jumped from my bed and flung on some clothes before hopping into my shoes.

      ‘What?! Ah man,’ Shelley cried, tumbling from the sofa to her unsteady feet.

      After the bust-up with Marie we’d stayed in the pub until closing time, nursing a bottle of wine as I’d resolved that this trip would be the solution to all my problems. I’d be like Trisha and come back a changed woman. That plan had seemed possible at eleven o’clock last night but wasn’t going quite so well this morning.

      My small flat turned into a hive of activity as I raced from room to room chucking last-minute bits and bobs into my bag. I triple checked I’d turned off the heating, locked the windows and hadn’t left the oven on. Not that I could even remember the last time I’d used it but you never could be too careful.

      ‘We СКАЧАТЬ