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Mark went in to help and asked whether he was all right, Bill had said, ‘I’ve won the bloody lottery. What do you think?’ He’d actually broken a rib. Ronnie was glad to hear him use the phrase in altogether better circumstances.
    Jack wheeled into the bar. He was followed by his sister at her usual emo shuffle. Ronnie shook her head indulgently as she watched her son’s chaotic approach. Why walk in a straight line when instead you could skip and skitter and bounce off every piece of furniture you passed, was Jack’s philosophy. He was already wielding an ice lolly, and a big orange stain spread across the front of his T-shirt like a paintballing wound.
    ‘Jack! That shirt was clean on,’ Ronnie sighed. He’d spilt Coke over the shirt he’d been wearing on the flight. Ronnie had made him change on the resort bus so that he’d look his best for his grandma. What a waste of time that turned out to be.
    Jack didn’t care what he looked like. Now he was dripping melting orange ice over his great-grandfather. Jack was so free with his hugs. Bill was delighted to receive one. Sophie, meanwhile, muttered her hellos and made it clear she wanted to go upstairs asap. There was nothing more embarrassing than being seen in the company of a great-granddad. It was almost as bad as being seen with your parents. The previous Christmas, Mark had bought Sophie a knitted balaclava so she could still go shopping with her mum and dad without being recognised by her peers. Needless to say, Sophie had not seen the joke. Maybe if the balaclava had come from Hollister …
    Fortunately, Jack was soon listening, rapt, as Bill explained the rules of the game on the screen, leaving Ronnie and Sophie free to find their family’s rooms and decant the contents of their four suitcases into the wardrobes. The main room – the one that Ronnie would share with Mark – had a balcony overlooking the hotel’s largest pool and the beach, just a few feet beyond. Ronnie stepped out and took a look at the view. It was exactly as she had imagined. The sea shimmered on the horizon like a sheet of blue silk shot through with silver thread. The air was soft and warm and scented with exotic flowers. It was Ronnie’s idea of heaven, this place. A week of warmth and relaxation at the edge of a bright blue swimming pool. A simple white-painted bedroom. The rustle of palm leaves in the wind. No cooking, no cleaning, no school run and no work. Well, there would always be work for Ronnie. She looked down at the poolside, where Mark was already cracking open a beer as he reclined on one of Dave’s fiercely defended sunloungers. Mark seemed to think suitcases packed and unpacked themselves by magic. Ronnie stepped back inside and asked Sophie to help her carry the two smaller cases next door.
    ‘Hold on,’ said Sophie. ‘Why do we need both these cases in here? Are you telling me I’m sharing with my brother?’
    ‘Where else is he going to sleep?’
    ‘You told me I wouldn’t have to share with Jack.’
    ‘I never told you that,’ said Ronnie.
    ‘Dad did,’ Sophie insisted. ‘When you said I couldn’t go to Berlin, which, by the way, has totally ruined my life, he said that to make up for it, I would definitely have my own room in Lanzarote. Sharing with Jack is not the same as having my own room. Duh.’
    ‘I know, sweetheart, but Grandma and Granddad have paid for this trip and—’
    ‘You could have given them some extra money. Or Jack could go in with you. Why can’t he go in with you?’
    ‘Sophie, you’re just being difficult. Take this bag. You’re sharing with your brother. Like you did in Cornwall.’
    ‘Yeah, and that was terrible. It was like sharing a room with a chimpanzee.’
    ‘You’re only going to be sleeping in here. You don’t have to spend all day with him.’
    ‘I did last year.’
    It was unfortunate that the weather in Cornwall the previous summer had meant there was little to do but stay in their tiny rented