One suitcase at a time

Swimming costume. Tick. Beach shoes. Tick. Book. Tick. Heartache. Tick. “Honestly!” thought Kathy, checking her packing list. It would be a miracle if she managed to close her battered old black suitcase without it falling to bits. Not surprising, really. She'd had it since her honeymoon.

- A short story by Jane Corry

“Come on,” she told herself firmly. “You can do it.”

But could she? You can’t just forget 15 years of marriage.

“What you need is a holiday in the sun,” said her mum, who lived round the corner.

“I can't afford one,” said Kathy.

There was little left after she and Steve had split up, and her job in the bookshop didn’t pay much either, even though she loved it.

“Let me treat you,” her mum had said.

“Thanks Mum, but I can’t let you — I’m 39 years old.”

“Even more important for you to enjoy life. In fact, I’ve found the perfect place for you online. It’s on a Greek island...”

As soon as Kathy stepped off the plane, she was wowed by the brilliant sunlight. But almost instantly, all those scared feelings about starting life on her own came back. On the minibus to the hotel, she found herself sitting next to a woman who always went on holiday without her husband. “It’s good for a marriage!”

There was also a single mother with a little boy. So they were alone too. “We're here!” the driver called out.

Kathy gasped as she took in the pretty white bungalows, the sparkling blue sea and the golden sand.

“Why don’t we all meet up at the bar later on?” suggested the boy’s mother.

Kathy felt a surge of relief. She’d been worried about spending evenings alone.

Later, after a swim, she slipped into a strappy dress and headed for the bar. But where was everyone?

“Good evening,” said a shortish man who was mixing cocktails. “My name is Nico. Your friends have left a message. The one with the little boy said they were having an early night and the older woman has a headache from the journey.”

“Thanks,” said Kathy, trying to sound as if she wasn't disappointed. “I might go back to my bungalow too.”

“Would you not like your welcome drink?”