Fair-Weather Friend. Patricia Scanlan
a flabby bum! When I think of all the times I did work on her hairy lip. I should have let the needle slip and scarred the sly cow for life.’
Sophie made a mental note never to let Melissa do work on her. Not that Melissa ever did beauty treatments for her now that she was qualified. It had been a different kettle of fish when she’d been training and needed guinea-pigs. Sophie had been manicured, pedicured and French polished. She had been tweezed and waxed within an inch of her life. That had been painful! Sophie had never waxed her legs again after what she had gone through with Melissa. The pain when Melissa had pulled off the strips had brought tears to her eyes.
‘Sissy,’ Melissa had jeered. Sophie had been raging. Her friend was so ungrateful. She took so much for granted. But mad as she was with Melissa, she was madder at herself for being such a doormat. Would she never learn?
When Melissa had asked her to let her practise waxing again before her finals, Sophie had told her to get lost. It was one of the few times she didn’t give in to her friend’s pleadings. There had been a frosty silence for weeks. Then Melissa had found out that the hairdresser she thought she had fallen in love with was gay. That had been a mega trauma. There had been weeks of sobbing on Sophie’s shoulder about her heart being truly broken.
‘I’ll never fall in love again,’ Melissa had stated dramatically. Then she had met Tony Jenkins and fallen hook, line and sinker. She’d even sunk to a new low in their friendship. She’d ditched Sophie to go on holidays with her new boyfriend. Denise had been hopping mad when she heard the news. ‘Don’t you dare ever speak to that bitch again. If I get my hands on her I’ll murder her,’ she yelled. Sophie didn’t know which was worse, Denise’s rantings or Melissa’s betrayal.
Sophie hadn’t spoken to Melissa for months. It was the longest they hadn’t spoken. Then Christmas had come and her soft heart got the better of her when Melissa sent her a Christmas card.
Now that the divine Tony had done the dirty on Melissa, she had come running to Sophie for comfort. This new disaster was the trauma of traumas, Sophie decided as she watched her friend pace the room.
‘That tart is going to Spain with him. Can you believe it?’ Melissa was bursting with rage. Her flawless pale skin was red with temper. ‘Sophie, you simply have to come on holidays with me. I’m damned if flabby-bum Jane is going to come into the salon sporting a tan and showing off photos of her and The Rat.
‘We’ll go somewhere and get the best tan ever and find the most gorgeous hunks to take care of us. Our photos will make that rat pea-green with envy. I’ll make sure he gets to see them. But even if he comes crawling back on his hands and knees, he’s history, Sophie. I’ll go straight to the travel agent tomorrow and book a holiday for us.’
Melissa of course assumed that Sophie would drop everything and be thrilled to go on holidays with her.
‘I don’t know. It’s very short notice. I wasn’t planning to go abroad,’ Sophie protested. ‘I’m a bit strapped for cash.’
‘Don’t be silly, Sophie. What do you mean short notice? You’re not doing anything are you? You weren’t planning on going away were you?’ Melissa demanded. ‘I’m broke too. When I found out about The Rat and that two-faced so-called friend, I went out and blew a fortune on a little black dress. It’s to die for, Sophie, but my Visa card is having a nervous breakdown. It will have to be a cheap holiday for me too. But who cares? You and I will strut our stuff on the beach and we won’t have to spend a penny,’ Melissa said confidently. Her eyes were shining at the thought of her next conquest. She couldn’t wait to letTony Jenkins see that he wasn’t the only man in the universe.
A fortnight in the sun would be nice, Sophie thought dreamily. Lazing on a lounger with a big, fat blockbuster novel and an ice-cold beer or a glass of chilled wine. Melissa could strut her perfectly toned and sculptured stuff. Sophie would be quite content to lie on her lounger, her flabby bits not being at all suitable for strutting.
Chapter Three
Two weeks later they were sitting in a bar at the airport. They were waiting to board a TransAer flight to Majorca. They had been delayed for three hours. Melissa was fit to be tied.
‘This is bloody daft. The plane hasn’t even left Palma yet. We’re going to be here for hours! That’s a whole day wasted. It will be the middle of the night before we get to … Portal … Portal … wherever that place we’re going to is.’
‘Portal Nous,’ Sophie murmured.
‘I hope it’s going to be a bit lively. It’s three miles from Palma Nova. It was all I could get at such short notice,’ Melissa fretted.
‘It will be fine, Melissa, stop panicking,’ Sophie said, trying not to loose her cool. ‘Now let’s have coffee and a sandwich. I’m a bit peckish.’
Her nerves were frayed. Melissa had whined and moaned non-stop about their delayed flight. Then she’d started on about the awful betrayal she had suffered at the hands of The Rat. It was doing Sophie’s head in.
‘Oh no, not coffee! Let’s go and get pissed.’ Melissa flung back her golden hair and stood up from the hard chair she’d been sitting on. She was quite aware that every male eye in the lounge was upon her. She swanned towards the bar in her skin-tight white jeans and tightly fitting black halter-neck.
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