Salad Days

Chloe finds her perfect fast food holiday, but has she lost her appetite?

“It’s a mistake in human evolution,” asserts Chloe, wagging her finger. Her expertise is fuelled by several glasses of wine, and she is well into her stride.

“It makes no sense for humans to prefer to eat the things that are really bad for us. We should only like the things that make us fit and healthy.”

“That makes sense,” Amy slurs, staring blearily at the young men lined up at the bar. “We should also only fancy men that treat us well, instead of all these bad boys I keep falling for.”

Chloe disagrees. “No, we go for men we think will be able to father fit children. That makes evolutionary sense.”

“Yuck,” retorts Amy, thus ending another intellectual Friday night debate.

Next day, Chloe is searching online for a holiday. Beautiful pictures of a white beach with palm trees flash onto her screen and she clicks to see where they were taken. However, the “Mystery Holidays” website is not letting on. They advertise blissful leisure breaks in unidentified locations. This, they claim, ensures the exclusivity vital for a truly restful break. Whatever you desire will be available here, but the location will never be revealed.

Chloe pictures herself on a sun lounger in a minimal bikini. Then the daydream grinds to a halt. Although not overweight, she is a curvy girl with a strong desire to look like a stick insect. She is tired of trying to diet and exercise, finding neither of these even remotely appealing. Does she want to show off her flabby bits?

On the other hand, she muses, no-one there, wherever “there” is, will know her or care two hoots what she looks like. Why shouldn’t she go and relax in the sun?

As she descends from the aircraft, the shock of intense heat bouncing off the tarmac makes Chloe catch her breath. She still does not know where her holiday is taking place, but it is definitely somewhere hot.

The plane that brought her here is small, and the airport tiny. There is no “Welcome to Wherever” sign which puzzles her. How has Mystery Holidays managed to persuade the airport to conceal its location? Even the destination board at Heathrow had only said “Mystery Holidays.”

She gets through customs and passport control very quickly. There are few people about. Stepping into the outer concourse, she sees a young woman holding up a card which reads “Chloe.”

Chloe looks around at the small kiosks selling magazines and fast food, noting that there are no adverts on the walls and nothing to reveal the language spoken here. She makes her way over to the woman.

“I’m Chloe,” she says, feeling slightly embarrassed. They are now the only two people present, so it seems unnecessary to announce herself.

“Chloe, hi!” gushes the woman. Home Counties accent, so no clues there.

“I’m Anna, your Mystery Holidays Representative, here to attend to your every need and help you reach your maximum fitness in the short time available. This is going to be a real boot camp!”

Chloe stares at her open-mouthed. She cannot recall reading anything about fitness when she booked her holiday.

“This is a health resort?” Her voice sounds a bit higher pitched than usual.

“Absolutely,” beams Anna, “You’re going to love every minute.”

Chloe seriously doubts this, but the holiday is cheap, and it means ten days away from her boring job, so she decides to go along with it for now.

They arrive at the hotel in a very sleek Mercedes taxi. Chloe looks up at the beautiful white building in wonder. Bougainvillea cascades from the top floor, its vibrant magenta softening the harsh glare of the early afternoon sun. Old terracotta olive pots lie around the entrance and look warm to the touch. An orange tree, burdened with ripening fruit, sits prettily by the large oak door.

Anna’s heels click on the cool marble floor of the foyer, and she slips behind the elegant reception desk to get Chloe’s key. They take the lift to the third floor, leaving Chloe’s bags for the porter to carry.

Her room is huge. Chloe cannot believe she is the only person staying here. The bed is at least king sized and the sheets look smooth and inviting. The window looks down on the swimming pool where several women are lounging on lilos and sipping cocktails.

Anna remarks, “As you see, all hard at work on our fitness here.”

“Are they waiting for the instructor?” asks Chloe.

Anna looks confused.

“The water is fully treated.” She sounds a little defensive, Chloe thinks.

“There’s no need for an instructor, they all know what they are doing.”

Which is precisely nothing, Chloe thinks. She hopes everything will seem less strange once she has settled in.

“I’ll leave you to unpack,” Anna says, “then we’ll see you downstairs for an energising snack.”

Feeling refreshed after a shower and change of clothes, Chloe enters the lounge where everyone has gathered.

“Hello,” says a girl seated by the window, “Are you new here?”

Chloe sits opposite her and introduces herself.

“I’m Cathy,” says the girl, “Have you worked it out yet?”

“Um…what exactly?”

“Ah, here comes the food. Let’s help ourselves before it’s all gone.”

Chloe follows Cathy to the big table. To her surprise, the table is loaded with fish and chips, burgers, curries and cakes. The sizzling aromas of greasy fried chicken, melting cheese and exotic spices envelop her, making her mouth water. It is hard to hear Cathy over the excited clamour of the other guests and the chinking of serving spoons as they load their plates.

“I thought this was a health resort,” says Chloe, frowning, but not displeased with the catering.

They pile food onto their dishes and return to the window seats.

“Ok,” says Cathy. “Here it is. Everything you love to eat is good for you. Fatty, salty foods, alcohol, sugar, it all makes you lose weight. You get slim by lying in the pool touching the energising water, or by lying on the sunbeds. The last thing you should do is exercise or move around more than necessary. Oh, and don’t let Anna catch you eating salad, whatever you do!”

Chloe cannot believe her ears. She now wishes she had booked for a month. How many doughnuts could she eat in ten days, she wondered.

On the third day, Chloe tells Cathy that she has already lost half a stone.

“Of course,” says Cathy, “You’ve had zero calories for the last few days. By the time you go home, you’ll be a sylph!”

Chloe chooses bacon and eggs for breakfast each day, doughnuts, yes several, for elevenses, and fish and chips for lunch. She enjoys stodgy stews and pies for supper and fits plenty of snacks in between meals. She is diligent about her lack-of-exercise regime and is feeling good about herself.

Chloe wakes early on day eight with a very peculiar feeling. When she opens her eyes, she finds herself cold and alone in a huge grey aircraft hangar. There is no sound, no smell, nothing. She suddenly snaps back to reality but cannot shake off the disturbing image. She lies in bed trying to work out what is wrong. Her body feels twitchy and restless. Her legs want to stretch and move. Without really thinking what she is doing, she dresses in a vest and shorts and creeps downstairs. She looks surreptitiously around reception and is relieved to see that no-one is there.

Outside, she scans the area to ensure she is not being watched, then tentatively starts stretching her limbs in a warm-up routine she has never done before. She jogs along the track at the side of the hotel, gaining speed until, reaching the gateway to the fields beyond, she breaks into a run. A gentle breeze stirs the olive trees as she darts around them on the rough ground. She bursts out of the field and is now heading to the sea, glittering in the early morning sun, a perfect aquamarine.

She stops on the beach and bends double, panting hard and clutching her knees. She knows she won’t be able to run back, but she feels exhilarated by her achievement. Not bad, she thinks, for her first run since leaving school.

Then she remembers Anna and her strict instructions not to exercise. Does this mean she will stop losing weight? With a heavy sigh, she turns and walks back to the hotel. Again, she looks around to check she is unobserved and then heads back to her room.

A female figure hiding behind the floral gazebo watches her go with narrowed eyes and makes notes in a book.

Chloe showers and makes her way down to breakfast. The room is full of chatter and the clinking of plates and glasses. As usual, the table is groaning with fast food delights. For some reason, she longs for an orange juice and some sugar free muesli. They said this holiday would be paradise and she could have everything she desires, so she asks the attendant.

“Could I have a glass of orange juice and some sugar free muesli please?”

The crowd is shocked into sudden silence. All eyes are upon her.

“So blatant,” someone murmurs.

The attendant steps forward, her arms spread in a placating gesture.

Chloe lifts her chin and glares at the woman.

“You said I could have everything I want on this holiday,” she says.

“Perhaps we should have a word with the director,” soothes the attendant, as if Chloe is five years old. She tries to shepherd Chloe towards the door.

“Very well,” Chloe agrees tersely. “Let’s see what they have to say for themselves.”

They find the director standing by the window in her office, scribbling notes on a clipboard.

“So,” she says, looking at Chloe over the rim of her glasses. “You have decided that the healthy lifestyle we promote is not for you.”

“I’m just fed up with all the grease and sugar. I need to move, not lie around all day.”

“Yet, when you arrived here you thought it was perfect and wanted to stay as long as possible.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” says Chloe.

The director turns to the attendant.

“Interesting,” she remarks, “No-one has ever started to come out of the hypnosis so early. Begin the debriefing please.”

She turns her back and continues scribbling her notes.

“Sit down please,” says the attendant. Chloe obeys as if in a trance.

“When I count to three you will awake and remember only an idyllic holiday on a remote island.”

Chloe blinks as if blinded by the sunlight, but she finds herself in an enormous aircraft hangar containing only one small plane.

“We’ve landed safely,” smiles the attendant, “Now we must get you a taxi home. I hope you have enjoyed your stay with us and please recommend Mystery Holidays to all your friends.”

Chloe has only been home ten minutes when Amy arrives at her door.

“Let’s go for a burger and you can tell me all about your holiday.”

“Actually,” replies Chloe, “I’d rather go to the salad bar and then go for a run.”

Amy’s jaw drops. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” she quips.

Meanwhile, back at the aircraft hangar, the director and the attendant from Mystery Holidays are discussing the latest intake of guinea pigs.

“I think I have seen enough of the human race,” sighs the director. “You give them everything they want and then they don’t want it anymore. They are impossible to please.”

The attendant agrees. “I don’t think they are suitable to recolonise our planet. We will have to look elsewhere.”

“Yes,” says the director. “But I will miss the doughnuts.”

More Tantalizing Tales? ♦News — read/subscribe ♦Write 4 Us ♦Follow