I'm not sure whether I feel sorry for the nice pale people I see buying bottles of nearly non-existent SPF oil or whether I think they deserve what's coming to them. Honestly, sometimes when I walk along the strip at Playa Del Sol I see them all stretched out on the beach and I think they look like sausages on a grill, all roasting in the sun. I don't mean that to say that they're fat - though some have no business being in a speedo or a bikini at that size - but it's the way they stretch out and just lie there all day, occasionally turning over to make sure they cook on both sides. It really does remind me of one giant barbecue.

Me, in contrast, promptly on the hour (or… okay, somewhere between an hour and two) I'm slapping on plenty of high factor sun protection. I hate it and it makes me feel all sticky and gross, but sticky and gross trumps burnt and in pain any day of the week. Joan Collins supposedly swears by good sun protection and not laying out too much and how awesome does she look for her age? That's my rationale and I'm sticking to it. Also, there are a few older people around here whose skin looks like tanned leather. That's not a compliment.

"So what do we need?" Mike looks over my shoulder impatiently. He hates coming on these supply trips, but I make him because I refuse to do this all by myself and then get yelled at for forgetting stuff he never told me we needed.

"Umm…" I pull a crinkled list out of my pocket. "The full set of cleaning and laundry supplies, we probably need to get some new sheets for your bed, we might as well do the food shopping while we're here and Dad said we need to get some paint to touch up the rails and shutters."

"Since it's his show home shouldn't he pay for that?" Mike grumbles.

"His logic is if we weren't in there causing wear and tear it wouldn't need doing half so often."

"Logic is overrated."

"Yes, you never have been a fan have you?" I take my first shot of the day. Mike and I may no longer get into fist fights every time we look at each other but we still tease each other to death. It's a sibling thing.

Most of what we need we can get in the village, but if we want to do any clothes or electronics shopping we have to come out to Playa. There's also a big hypermarket and we tend to buy all our cleaning supplies there because they're a lot cheaper and come in much bigger quantities. This is considered sacrilege by one certain convenience store owner we know and love, but is it our fault we're low paid and need to economise here and there? Maybe every six weeks or so we plan a trip out here to just buy a ton of stuff and pack the car - it works pretty well, it's then only the basics we need to top up on. These are the parts of domesticity and having your own place that are mundane and less exciting than throwing parties and having your own stretch of beach to play with.

"Remind me, who was it that thought they built the Leaning Tower of Pisa that way?"

"Shut up."

Mike laughingly flips his middle finger at me and then throws an arm around my shoulders. Because he's so fair and I'm so dark it's often assumed we're not related - a couple of times we've even been mistaken for girlfriend and boyfriend, which I feel is particularly gross. The colouring may be different but the nose and chin aren't.

"So, Addy, couldn't coax the boyfriend out?"

"For the last bloody time, not my boyfriend!" I chirp in a cheery sing-song voice.

"I know, I know. It's just the easiest way to wind you up, sister dear."

Funnily enough, he could be talking about more than one guy right now. I'm just not stupid enough to draw attention to that by asking, thus giving him more material. Lily and Nina are both on my case about Justin (Lily via text message of course, since she's back in England), but the guys in my group are all hinting around Antonio and it's driving me nuts. Antonio and I dated for about five minutes a long time ago purely because it was expected of us. Well, okay, not because it was expected of us… but in our group, with us being so far away from most people our age on the island, it kind of naturally happens that occasionally two or other of us have been involved. I dated Christophe once too, prompting many 'frog' jokes from my brother since he's half French.

Anyway, the amount of time I'm spending with Justin - despite the fact it's out of pure convenience because they're always out at work - is ruffling feathers. Apparently Antonio still has a thing for me. This surprises me because it never seemed like he had much of a thing for me to begin with, hence why we didn't last very long. Nothing like perceived competition to send the men folk on a stupid macho jealousy trip… funnily enough I did ask Justin if he wanted to come out and see the sights, but he squeaked out some lame excuse not to. Honestly, he could have just said he didn't feel like it, it's not a big deal.

"Well two can play that game and lest you forget, I'm better at it than you. Not to mention you give me way more material, how is Tanya these days?"

"Shut up. That's done; seriously, the woman's a nut job."

"That's what you said the last three or four times. Forgive me if I'm slow to believe you."

I get a poke in the ribs for that effort and he gets an elbow back. But still we stroll along with our arms slung around each other. We're in the wrong area for the hypermarket, but the tourist shops along the beach front do occasionally yield some cheap electronics stores, even cheaper than the hypermarket itself. Mike was stupid enough to drop his phone into a boiling hot cup of coffee - God only knows how. It probably would have survived the wet, but it didn't survive the heat. There are the usual cheap t-shirt and knick knack stores, places selling boogie boards and inflatable toys for the beach, a few cafes and a couple of jewellery and perfume shops. The signs are cheap and gaudy, the shops themselves are kind of tacky and I'm sure that back home most people would never deign to enter such places, but on holiday they all jump in with enthusiasm.

Still, they may be tacky but they are cheap and useful. I know a few of the store owners too so they let me haggle.

"Excuse me?"

Somebody's tapped Mike on the shoulder and we turn around to see a slightly portly middle aged man who's wheezing slightly.

"Sorry to interrupt but I heard you speaking English, I wonder if you could please help me… do you by any chance know where I can find a pharmacy?"

"Oh yeah," Mike says easily. Once again, we have been assumed to be natives who just happen to speak English. "If you go back the way you came, all the way down to the Regent hotel, you turn left at the street just before you get to the hotel and then carry on up and take your second left. Should be one down there unless they've moved it again."

"Fantastic, thank you… wife's accidentally eaten some shell fish and come out in hives," he tells us as he mops his sweaty brow with a tissue. "So I turn left before the Regent and take the second left after that?"

"Yes," I nod. "The pharmacies all have big green cross signs in neon out the front, you can't miss them."

"Great, great, thank you so much."

"No worries, have a good holiday," Mike says as he waves the guy off and we then turn back in our intended direction.

As much as we do make fun of the tourists and the various ill thought out or ill prepared things they do when they come out here, encounters like that are oddly nice. It's nice to be able to help and most people are usually very grateful, especially to have somebody who speaks English well. Not all of the islanders do, particularly the older ones. It's really only the ones who are about thirty and under who've been properly schooled in the language, that was roughly when they made it compulsory in the schools and started teaching them young. Sometimes we get chatting to the tourists in the restaurants and bars and stuff and it's nice to be able to hear about England and life back home. It's nice to see people when they're relaxing and away from all their usual pressures and stresses.

Though, it once got very awkward when we bumped into our old Spanish teacher. It's a small world after all! Neither I nor my brother had any interest in the language in England and we were hopeless at it, so of course the fact that we're now fluent and I myself am teaching English to Spanish speaking kids just killed him. He would not shut up about it all night, we were so glad to leave that restaurant.

"Oh, I meant to say to you…" Mike starts casually as we pass yet more souvenir stores. I know there's an electronics shop somewhere down here, but I'm starting to wonder if we started at the wrong end of the strip.

"Yeah?"

"You know I was talking about that job in the City?"

By 'city,' he means the City of London. A friend of his works at some posh banking firm over there and he vaguely mentioned something about getting Mike in. It would get him a lot more money, but would of course require him to return to the UK. Last I heard it was a hazy possibility that most likely wouldn't happen.

"I surely do."

"Well he called me yesterday and said that he'd made a few noises and the feedback seemed decent, so he called and asked if I was serious about pushing on and if I was he'd start making more formal noises and trying to get me an interview."

"And you said…?"

"I said yeah."

"Okay, cool," I say. He immediately looks relieved; I can understand why he'd be nervous. Mike moving to the UK would disrupt not only our cosy family scene but also my living arrangements, since I couldn't afford the mortgage on my own. We got a great deal through Dad and it's very cheap - but not cheap enough for one. "So these noises have been good so far?"

"Only in the sense that nobody seems overtly opposed to the idea." He scrunches up his nose and pulls a silly face at me. "We'll get a better idea once he's done the real groundwork. I just wanted to make sure you knew so you can start making plans for if I do wind up going."

"So… saying yes now, how big a commitment is it?"

"No legal commitment, but if he does all this for me and I change my mind about wanting to go for interview he's probably going to fly out here and murder me in my sleep."

"So you're pretty sure this is what you want?"

"Yeah."

"Well then…" I readjust my sunglasses for a moment. They're very nice Chanel knock offs, I look so Audrey Hepburn right now. "You'd best go for it then. Would you live in London or commute?"

Mike sighs. "I have to start working that out now. But obviously you'd need somebody to take up my half of the mortgage… or maybe you could use it as your excuse to go do that exchange thing you wanted to do. Did you say it was the US?"

"Yep, I could either do California or Texas, otherwise I could go to Mexico. Or if I wanted to stick to Europe I could go to Italy or Spain. I don't know, I'll have to think about it. You know how I love my beach…"

"Yep. Can't say I'd be going back for the weather," Mike says in distaste. "Where would you want to go most?"

"Finally, phones," I say in a distinct change of subject, pointing at the store. Mike very much likes to delve right into detailed hypothetical discussions when it comes to stuff like this but I prefer to have a little think to myself first and then start hashing out details. It's just the way my brain works.

Still, I see no sense in worrying about it too much. He hasn't even got an interview yet, let alone the job. And if he does… well, I'll miss him but I'll deal with it. I have my own life to be getting on with and I see no point in being afraid of change when it's only going to foist itself on you anyway. Some changes are good. Moving to Adora was a good change. Moving out or back might also be a good change, or just having someone new to live with might be a good change. It'll all be fine. Besides, what my big brother wants out of life I think he deserves to have, so if he wants to be some City banker then I am your official City banker cheerleader.

In the meantime, I have phone and grocery shopping to do.

***

Aww man, I really shouldn't have switched my Blackberry on.

I have so many messages I didn't even know where to begin. So many message alerts were coming through that I had to put it on silent and leave it in a corner for half an hour or so until I was sure no more were on the way. I couldn't work out whether to attack voicemail, e-mail or texts first; eventually I plumped for voicemail because I figure when you can hear the chastising tone it is definitely worse, so I'd get the worst over with. I wasn't looking forward to it, but the problem with putting things off is that sometimes they get bigger in the meantime. Time to face the music.

Johnny has sent me a series of increasingly irate messages pleading with me to call him and just let him know my plans because he's getting pressure from my various companies and work contacts. He says he won't be mad, but it's hard to believe him when he sounds like his teeth are gritted harder and harder together with each message. Trace is just swearing at me a lot, saying how much I've upset everybody and he can't understand why I won't just call to let them know I haven't died or anything. Dad keeps telling me that I'm worrying the life out of Granny and Grandpa, they just want to know when I'll be back so they can quit frettin', and Mom keeps moving between upset, disappointed and mad.

Because I left the message for Trace they haven't called missing persons or anything, they know this was my choice, but they're all a little ticked at being out of the loop. Mom's last few messages are very quiet; I think she's taking it personally that I haven't confided in her. Problem is that it's hard to explain to somebody why your problem isn't something you can discuss with them without discussing the problem with them, which kind of defies the point. The last thing I want to do is dump this as yet unexplained life problem on her and have her think it's anything to do with her or that she should have seen or known or stopped or whatever. Sometimes Mom does that, she still kind of takes my problems on as hers and she shouldn't have to.

I think I'll take the coward's way out and e-mail… I still haven't checked those yet, but I'm guessing they'll be more of the same. I navigate my way into my e-mail and ignore the fifty messages in my inbox, going straight to composing a new message. It doesn't take long to get my mom's contact details up and in the 'To' box. Now I just have to think what to write.

Hi Mom,

I'm sorry I haven't been in touch sooner - I just wanted to go somewhere without any interruptions. Please tell everyone not to worry, I'm okay. I'm just having a mental health vacation and thinking through some stuff, as soon as I get it straight in my head I'll come home and tell you all about it. I'm sorry if I scared you, I just really needed some time out with me myself and I.

Not sure when I'll be home… maybe another couple of weeks or so? I really don't know, depends how long I need to work things out. I promise I'll explain it all to you when I get home, and I'll let you know when I'm coming back as soon as I know.

Love you and I'll see you soon,

Justin x

I must have written, deleted and re-written five times before finally settling on a reply. It seems weak and inadequate, but that's only because it's weak and inadequate. There's no excuse, I really should have done this sooner; I bet they were all worried as hell about me and it's not like that message gives them any real clue what's going on. I swear I'd give them a clue if I had one myself…

After the last few days hanging out with Addy and trying not to think about all this stuff, turning the outside world back on was necessary but bad. It's a crushing reminder of how in the dark I still am. I hate this; I've always been so together and had everything so figured out. Well, okay, not everything, but enough. I think I might go see if she's home from the strip yet, I could use some friendly advice. She was really great last time, and she didn't give me any bullshit platitudes either. If she doesn't understand she tells you she doesn't understand and if she thinks you're just being weak she'll very kindly and politely call you on it but without making you feel like a moron. Perhaps I deserve some tough love right now but I don't think I could stomach it, so her brand of wizened sympathy is helpful.

Also, her brother's an awesome cook and I haven't eaten since this morning.