us.’
‘Yeah, doesn’t mean she actually thinks you’re any good,’ says Mirelle.
‘Thanks for that, Mirelle.’
‘Anytime.’
Jo leaves at four as she starts an hour earlier than us.
‘So how was the Hula bar?’ I ask Mirelle.
‘Oh, so good. We wore little hula skirts and drank Blue Hawaii’s all night. I was well drunk, so I’m surprised I didn’t look like you this morning.’
‘Give it a couple of years. I was like you at your age.’
‘There’s not that many years difference between us.’
‘It’s enough, believe me. It all changes.’
‘Sounds like you aren’t too happy about that.’
‘Are you happy? Having a fling with a married man doesn’t sound like much fun. Doesn’t he have to keep going back to his wife? It must make meeting up difficult.’
‘It’s not as difficult as you might imagine. He’s always been sporty, so he tells her he’s off to the gym, and I don’t have to wake up next to a stinky-breathed sweaty body, so all’s good where I’m concerned.’
‘Don’t you want more? What if you fall for him?’
‘Nah. I like it as it is. I get sexy times with no strings. He makes me feel like a goddess.’ She shakes her hair. ‘Then he goes home and I can please myself.’
‘Greedy.’
‘Hahahahahahaha.’
Andi walks back in. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow girls. Don’t forget that extra alarm, Amber.’
‘I won’t,’ I reply with a false smile that masks a grimace. God, why does everyone treat me like a kid? I think back to what Will said that morning. Probably because I’m always acting like one. Maybe I do need to grow up. The thought is sobering. I note my hangover has passed.
Chapter 8
Karen
Breakfast the next morning is a further delight. I walk into a large room that has the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs. Enjoying the view of a different part of the River Spree, I feast like it’s the last supper, still shuddering at the thought of the other night’s remnants. My taste buds awaken as I take my time dining on a cooked breakfast and follow it with toast, tiny Danish pastries and fresh orange and coffee. Then I finish with a decadent drink of Rose Cava. I’m there about an hour; I don’t remember ever taking this long over breakfast. When I was at work, mornings consisted of a quick slice of toast, and at weekends sometimes I’d have nothing at all. I realise I haven’t been caring for myself properly for a long, long time.
Back in my room, I consult my guidebook and decide to find a bus tour. That way I can take in all the major sights before I head back to the U.K. I wish I’d booked a longer trip, but I presumed a couple of days would be enough. I throw the guide in my bag, determined to return at some point. I don’t know where I’ll visit next, but I need a longer trip.
Well wrapped up again as the cold is biting, I walk down Freidrichstrasse and head for Unter den Linden, a lime tree lined Boulevard that leads to the Brandenburg Gate. As I turn the corner, I spot the gate in the distance and leave the shops behind to walk onto the Pariser Platz, a square full of people dressed as cartoon characters. I watch people having their photo taken with Minnie and Mickey Mouse, and then witness the most bizarre scenario as a Bear and Mario have a heated exchange over what I guess is one of the more lucrative pitches.
Just through the gate, I find the tour bus recommended by my guide book, find a seat and put in my earplugs to listen to a sightseeing tour of Berlin. The snow comes down again, making it difficult to see all the sights out of the window. As we carry on, I consider how in Britain the bus would have stopped by now, in fact, everyone would have stopped by now, and been panicking about a tiny dusting of snow. Here it’s around six inches deep. The bus has winter tyres on and I pass several road clearing vehicles; Berlin refuses to give in to the weather. Halfway through the tour, I get off and
‘Yeah, doesn’t mean she actually thinks you’re any good,’ says Mirelle.
‘Thanks for that, Mirelle.’
‘Anytime.’
Jo leaves at four as she starts an hour earlier than us.
‘So how was the Hula bar?’ I ask Mirelle.
‘Oh, so good. We wore little hula skirts and drank Blue Hawaii’s all night. I was well drunk, so I’m surprised I didn’t look like you this morning.’
‘Give it a couple of years. I was like you at your age.’
‘There’s not that many years difference between us.’
‘It’s enough, believe me. It all changes.’
‘Sounds like you aren’t too happy about that.’
‘Are you happy? Having a fling with a married man doesn’t sound like much fun. Doesn’t he have to keep going back to his wife? It must make meeting up difficult.’
‘It’s not as difficult as you might imagine. He’s always been sporty, so he tells her he’s off to the gym, and I don’t have to wake up next to a stinky-breathed sweaty body, so all’s good where I’m concerned.’
‘Don’t you want more? What if you fall for him?’
‘Nah. I like it as it is. I get sexy times with no strings. He makes me feel like a goddess.’ She shakes her hair. ‘Then he goes home and I can please myself.’
‘Greedy.’
‘Hahahahahahaha.’
Andi walks back in. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow girls. Don’t forget that extra alarm, Amber.’
‘I won’t,’ I reply with a false smile that masks a grimace. God, why does everyone treat me like a kid? I think back to what Will said that morning. Probably because I’m always acting like one. Maybe I do need to grow up. The thought is sobering. I note my hangover has passed.
Chapter 8
Karen
Breakfast the next morning is a further delight. I walk into a large room that has the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs. Enjoying the view of a different part of the River Spree, I feast like it’s the last supper, still shuddering at the thought of the other night’s remnants. My taste buds awaken as I take my time dining on a cooked breakfast and follow it with toast, tiny Danish pastries and fresh orange and coffee. Then I finish with a decadent drink of Rose Cava. I’m there about an hour; I don’t remember ever taking this long over breakfast. When I was at work, mornings consisted of a quick slice of toast, and at weekends sometimes I’d have nothing at all. I realise I haven’t been caring for myself properly for a long, long time.
Back in my room, I consult my guidebook and decide to find a bus tour. That way I can take in all the major sights before I head back to the U.K. I wish I’d booked a longer trip, but I presumed a couple of days would be enough. I throw the guide in my bag, determined to return at some point. I don’t know where I’ll visit next, but I need a longer trip.
Well wrapped up again as the cold is biting, I walk down Freidrichstrasse and head for Unter den Linden, a lime tree lined Boulevard that leads to the Brandenburg Gate. As I turn the corner, I spot the gate in the distance and leave the shops behind to walk onto the Pariser Platz, a square full of people dressed as cartoon characters. I watch people having their photo taken with Minnie and Mickey Mouse, and then witness the most bizarre scenario as a Bear and Mario have a heated exchange over what I guess is one of the more lucrative pitches.
Just through the gate, I find the tour bus recommended by my guide book, find a seat and put in my earplugs to listen to a sightseeing tour of Berlin. The snow comes down again, making it difficult to see all the sights out of the window. As we carry on, I consider how in Britain the bus would have stopped by now, in fact, everyone would have stopped by now, and been panicking about a tiny dusting of snow. Here it’s around six inches deep. The bus has winter tyres on and I pass several road clearing vehicles; Berlin refuses to give in to the weather. Halfway through the tour, I get off and
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