**An Unforgettable Trip**
You know how it isyou plan a holiday like it’s the event of the year: friends, sunshine, endless fun. And then? One mishap after another. But somehow, those chaotic adventures end up being the memories you cherish most.
Emily clenched her teeth so hard around her cocktail straw she nearly bit it in half. “Shouldve gone for something strongermake it a double,” she sighed, tuning out her friends endless complaints.
It had all started so well! A silver wedding anniversary gift to herself and her husband: an exotic getaway, ocean views, luxury hotels, lazy strolls. Emily was already packing her favourite outfits when her husbandcheered by a few drinks with matessuddenly suggested, “Why dont you lot join us? More the merrier, and well split the cost of the car and guide!” Just like that, the tickets were bookedno turning back.
Her husbands mate, Oliver, the art critic, was lovely to chat with. But his wife, Beatrice? A different story. A woman raised in privilege, accustomed to fine dining and spa retreats. After moving abroad, shed divorced quickly, and her life since had become the stuff of gossip. No one quite knew how she made her money, but she spun such glamorous tales, you couldnt help but listen.
Emily had known her for a decade. Beatrice took her under her wingdragging her to boutiques, insisting “a true Englishwomans life is incomplete without proper clotted cream and marmalade.” (“The birds on my balcony wont touch anything else!”) She hauled Emily to the opera, weekend trips to Paris, called daily, always “just popping by.” But the longer Emily knew her, the more the cracks showed.
And now? Two whole weeks together.
“I asked for still water, not sparkling! And warm, not ice-cold! This is undrinkable!” Beatrice wailed. Emily gritted her teeth, mentally apologising to her dentist.
The whole trip was like that.
Their last hotel, overlooking the sea, seemed heavenly. They set off for the waterfalls at dawn, trekking through lush forests, crossing rope bridges, gripping the heavy walking sticks provided for balance.
“Oh, for heavens sake! No one told me wed be hikingIm in white linen!” Beatrice shrieked.
Emily marched ahead, refusing to look back. But the beauty at the waterfalls base made up for itmisty mountains, birdsong, sapphire butterflies. Diving into the icy water, she felt pure bliss.
“This is impossible! The rocks are slippery!” Beatrice declared, scrambling out instantly. Yet moments later, she was posing in a bikini that left little to the imagination. “Take my picture! Everyone needs to see this!” Oliver resignedly snapped away.
Mud baths? Beatrice refused to undress. The zoo? “Ugh, animals stink.”
Dinner was another ordeal. Ordering became an interrogationribs without sauce? Grilled fish, but not *that* one? Emily translated, patience fraying. Beatrice finally ordered steak, then moaned it was “too salty, too tough”while stealing chips off everyone elses plates.
“Love, maybe ease up?” Oliver ventured. “Youve got that bikini to think about.”
A death glare and another handful of chips was his answer.
The last day was chaos. Beatrice suddenly “couldnt stand potatoes” (after two weeks of chips), lunch was a symphony of complaints. Yet back at Heathrow, she rang half of London:
“Yes, were home! Absolute shamblesno one knows whats what except me!”
Emily tuned it out. Home meant her 92-year-old dad, his beloved beef stew, the dogs wagging tailand blissful silence without Beatrice.
For a few days, at least.
Oddly, now Beatrice and Oliver rave about it being “the trip of a lifetime,” desperate to go back.
Emily just smiles. Maybe putting up with the chaos was worth itif it made someone else that happy.
