Getaway

Chapter 1

The reception wasn’t as bad as I had been expecting. I had been prepared for a patronising ‘African’ theme but instead I was greeted by two giant wooden statues of storks and a number of wooden chairs and tables.

Luckily the queue at reception was not quite as long as the queue at passport control and so I had little time to look at the decor before we stood in front of a long oak desk and were greeted by ‘David’.

“Welcome to the hotel Paraíso.” He greeted, “We want you to enjoy your stay here but first, you must check in!”

He said this with such a flourish that I almost had to resist the urge to take a step back from his enthusiasm.

“First of all, what is your booking name?.”

“Andrew Walker.” My father replied.

I tuned out of the conversation then, it was all about what was included in the all-inclusive package, how to access pool towels and opening times for the restaurants.

None of which I cared about.

My interest only returned to the conversation when Dad nudged me in the shoulder, gesturing towards the wristband that David was holding out towards me. I put out my wrist allowing him to fasten it; this was starting to feel strangely like visiting a theme park. Minus the roller-coasters and people dressed up as giant – terrifying – animals.

“Well now you’re all sorted, here is your room key and I’ve marked your room on the map for you. If you stick these stickers on your luggage they’ll be taken to your room by staff.”

With that, David handed us several sheets of paper that we probably wouldn’t read and gave us a show-stopping smile.

“Enjoy your stay.”

And with a shout of ‘next’ we were dismissed.

Kyle was sent to mark our luggage, luckily at the age of ten this was still a semi-exciting task for him. Dad didn’t try to engage me in conversation whilst we waited for Kyle; he was aware that I wasn’t exactly the biggest talker at the moment and thankfully was beginning to respect that. I was never completely sociable to begin with – despite my kind-of popularity – and I especially was not sociable now.

That wasn’t to say that I still wasn’t invited to sit with my friends at lunch, it just meant that I spend that time perched on the edge of my seat wondering why lunchtimes had never seemed this long before.

Eventually Kyle returned and we were on our way.

“Want to have a little look around before we go back to our rooms?” Dad asked, the way he had done every time we had gone on holiday before.

“Sure.” I grumbled, but luckily Kyle’s response was a lot more enthusiastic and so dad was placated.

Holding the map out in front of him – already taking on the perfect tourist image – he led us along a corridor of some sorts which was lined with shops.

“This is apparently where the shows are held.” He gestured towards a pitifully small stage.

I just nodded and followed him down several flights of stairs – I thought I’d escaped that with six weeks away from the stairs at school, apparently not – and out towards the restaurants. I glanced at the menus, registering that there was a roast every night and chips so, if all else was disgusting, I was sorted for the two weeks we were here.

The rest of the tour was a blur of bars, pathways and a brief stop to look at the pool and before I knew it we were walking up yet another flight of stairs and then we reached the rooms.