The Birthday That Changed Everything: Perfect summer holiday reading!

But I still knew that – no matter how attractive the packaging – he was a man. I was still an emotional wreck, and jumping into bed with someone really wasn’t going to help at this stage, no matter how well defined their abdominal muscles.

I could still enjoy window-shopping, though, I thought, stretching my arms up into a long, languid stretch and allowing myself a few naughty thoughts. I fear I might have even purred, or at the very least sighed.

‘Shit!’ he shouted, out of the blue.

I snapped to – he was sitting with his head in his hands, blood trickling from between his fingers. The boom was swinging, a matching patch of red shining in the sunlight.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he said, clearly in pain. The wound was a few inches above his hairline; like most scalp cuts, it was bleeding like crazy. He tried to wipe some of the blood out of his eyes, smearing it over his forearm.

I moved across to take a look.

‘No!’ he said. ‘Stay there or we’ll go over. I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.’

He’d taken quite a bang, but didn’t seem on the verge of passing out or falling overboard. Which was lucky for us both; we’d have been floating adrift for eternity if it had been up to me to captain the ship.

‘I’ll get us back then I can sort this out. Can’t believe I got caught by the bloody boom,’ he said.

‘What happened?’

‘Erm, I got momentarily distracted,’ he said, nodding towards my chest. I looked down, having the awful feeling I knew exactly what I was going to see.

Yep. Two large brown boobs, enjoying the sunshine a lot more than they’d enjoyed Marcia’s bloody bikini.

Chapter 13

We splashed back to shore as soon as the boat was safe in the shallows.

‘Come on, up to my room,’ I said, taking his hand, ‘and don’t argue.’

‘Okay…but is this really the time?’ he asked, looking shocked as I led him along.

‘Oh shut up – your virtue’s safe. I’m not planning to seduce you, I just want to get a better look at that cut.’

We made our way up the stairs to my room, stopping to answer a few enquiries as we went. James’s inner macho man kicked into action. He stood there, looking as though he’d been slaughtering a pig, insisting there was nothing wrong. Men and their egos. A constant source of amazement to me.

‘Can I tell them what happened?’ he asked as we climbed the stairs.

‘Do, and I’ll kill you.’

‘Okay. But that’s not fair – I’d feel like less of an idiot if I could at least tell the blokes. One look at you and they’d all understand why I lost it…’

Even under the circumstances – gaping scalp wound, all my fault – a comment like that made my heart skip a beat. My bruised ego was lapping it up like double cream. Pathetic.

I unlocked the door, having first knocked on Lucy’s room to see if she was still around. No answer. She must be out sacrificing goats in the woods.

‘Come on in, ’scuse the mess,’ I said, leading the way. I went over to the windows to throw open the curtains, and turned back to tidy up the bed. I needn’t have bothered – a messy duvet was the last thing anyone would notice in this particular room.

‘Oh, the little cow,’ I said, stopping dead and gazing around in shock. My room had been transformed into Mr and Mrs Smith’s house of horrors – a showcase for their amazing Range of Rubber. Stupidly, I’d left the interconnecting door open at a time when I was number one on Lucy’s shit list. Served me right really.

Suck-Me-Dry Sally was fully inflated and propped up on my pillows, handcuffed to the wrought-iron headboard. She had Black Beauty between her plastic legs and was looking understandably shocked.

The butt plugs were lined up on the dresser in order of size, next to a giant jar of lubricant that said Slippery Dick on the label. Both my bedside cabinets had vibrators on them, as though I kept them there for night-time emergencies.

‘Interesting room you have here,’ James said, deadpan.

‘None of it’s mine,’ I snapped back. ‘It’s all from the suitcase that got swapped. My cow of a daughter has been in here doing this. And it looks like the cleaners have been, too, so they’ll have me down as a pervert for the rest of the holiday as well. I’d like to throttle her scrawny neck…’

‘I’m sure the cleaners will have seen it all before. And I won’t hold it against you – I was a teenager once myself; I know what they’re capable of.’

It was so the right reaction. Not a sign of the nudge-nudge wink-wink I’d expected, even with severe provocation. I pulled myself together and told him to sit on the bed. The man was dripping blood on to my carpet, for goodness’ sake – I could kill Lucy later.

I went to fetch my first-aid kit from the bathroom. I have the world’s best first-aid kit. Occupational hazard of being a mother, a teaching assistant, and an almost-doctor.

I held back his blood-clotted hair and examined the wound. I gently cleaned it with some warm water, and probed as softly as I could to see how deep it was. James sat stoically, wincing only slightly as I poked around.

‘You’ll live,’ I said. ‘It looks much worse than it is. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I’ll dress it and you’ll need to wear a very attractive bandage for the next day or so. Keep your head away from blunt objects, don’t swim for a while, and avoid salsa dancing because your balance might be off. If you feel sick or sleepy, let me know.’

I bustled around, getting gauze and a long strip of bandage, then stood in front of him, tilting his head slightly so I could work at a better angle.

‘You seem pretty good at all this – are you a nurse in real life as well as fancy dress?’

‘Nope,’ I said, trimming off some tape, ‘but once upon a time I was going to be a doctor. Lucy came along and it never happened. Can’t say I’d be much good at open-heart surgery, but the basics like this you never forget.’

‘Why don’t you go back and finish your training?’ he asked as I leaned in closer to apply pressure to the dressing.

I couldn’t answer for a few seconds. My bikini was still damp and the air-con was on full, giving me goosebumps. I could feel his warm breath on my breasts as he spoke. His lips were only a whisper away, and the unexpected heat on cool flesh was amazingly erotic. All I’d need to do was lean forward an inch or two…

It was an odd moment to feel turned on, but I was, and I was sure it was obvious. I was seriously considering seeking medical help for these inappropriate rushes of lust. I wasn’t usually like this. It could be early menopause.

I reminded myself to breathe, and to talk.

‘Well, that was a long time ago. Lucy’s sixteen now. My training is probably next to useless these days,’ I replied, feeling my hands tremble slightly as I secured the dressing and started to wrap the bandage.

My patient was quiet. All I could hear – and, deliciously, feel – was his breathing against my chest.

‘Am I hurting you?’ I asked, pulling away slightly to look at his face. His eyes were glazed and he was struggling to focus. Maybe he had concussion after all.

‘No, you’re not,’ he said, ‘and I’d probably wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t for the head injury…but even through that bikini, your nipples look exactly like the tops of Walnut Whips…’

Yikes. Time to get him out of my room right now, or I was going to have to carry out a full physical.

Chapter 14

Breakfast on the Gaza Strip again. But that morning, there seemed to have been something of a ceasefire.

Ollie was chirpy as ever, his little round glasses perched on his nose, reading a book with a dragon on the cover. Lucy was uncharacte‌ristically chatty. She’d been into town with Max and his friends the night before, giving me barely enough time to lecture her about the dangers of alcohol before she dashed off.

There was a lot of laughter and surreptitious shuffling about on the corridor outside before I finally heard the key turn in the lock. I considered bursting out to catch them in the act, but I didn’t really want to see my daughter with her tongue down someone’s throat. It’s like world poverty – you know it’s happening, but you don’t necessarily want to witness it up close.

She’d wisely kept herself scarce most of the day, knowing the longer she avoided me, the less angry I’d be about the pervert’s parade she’d ambushed me with. I’d spent a good half-hour packing it all up again ready for the airline people to collect, and was fairly sure a few smaller items had gone missing.

Still, seeing her smiling and laughing at breakfast made it impossible to stay mad. In fact, it had totally thrown me – that boy must be a heck of a kisser.

‘So anyway,’ she said, between bites of toast, ‘turns out that Max is really cool. I know he seems total surfer boy, but he’s read all The Walking Dead graphic novels, and runs an online forum on classic horror, and he’s really into The Smiths as well.’

‘Are you sure he’s not just gay?’ Ollie asked, peering up from his page.

‘Shut the fuck up, John Lennon,’ she answered, reassuringly. Glad to see that love hadn’t quite tamed the beast.

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