(Dorrie).
Dorrie grabbed my arm and Beth grabbed Caz’s and they manhandled us over to where a queue of children was patiently waiting to have their picture taken with Goofy. We were the only adults in the queue.
‘Dorrie, do we have to do this?’ Caz groaned. ‘I feel like such a dork.’
‘Me too,’ I said, and momentarily forgetting my animosity to Caz in the face of such mortification, I grinned at her. I’d forgotten this, how Caz and I always used to stand together against Dorrie’s battier ideas.
‘Yes, we absolutely do,’ said Dorrie in mock serious tones. ‘This is my weekend and you will do things my way. That is all.’
Beth giggled, ‘Dorrie, everyone else having their photo taken is about two foot tall. We’ll look ridiculous.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Dorrie. ‘We are having a picture with Goofy and that is that.’
So ten minutes later, we all stood posing like idiots next to Goofy. Dorrie of course had thrust her arm through his, but I refused point blank to let him put his arm round me. It was bad enough to be standing next to an adult dressed up as a cartoon character without having to be hugged by him. To make matters worse, Dorrie wanted thousands of pictures with him, ‘For posterity,’ she said. ‘I may never do this again.’
‘We certainly won’t,’ Caz muttered, and I couldn’t help grinning.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ Dorrie beamed as she got us to all link arms and stand in front of Goofy for a final photo. Caz and I studiously stood on either end as far apart as we could get.
‘Good, can we go now?’ I said as we broke up after the last shot. A huge crowd of toddlers was building up, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute.
‘Oh look, look,’ Dorrie waved madly, ‘it’s Mickey! Cooee, come and have your photo with us, Mickey.’
So we all stood in line again, this time having no choice but to link arms with Mickey and Goofy. I produced a series of contorted smiles as the endless torture went on.
‘Honestly, Dorrie, I’m going to kill you for this,’ I said.
‘But just think of the great photos we’re going to have,’ said Dorrie, beaming brightly. I have never known anyone be so positive as Dorrie – no wonder she loved all things Disney.
Finally the marathon photo session came to an end, and the poor beleaguered minder was able to hand back Dorrie’s camera.
‘Right, can we go now?’ hissed Caz. ‘I’ve had as much of this as I can take.’
Unfortunately, Goofy didn’t seem to think so and insisted that not only was hugging required, but kissing too.
‘Dear god,’ I said laughing hysterically as we finally made our way to the candyfloss stall. ‘I can’t believe I have just been snogged by a cartoon character.’
‘I told you it would be fun,’ said Dorrie, with self-satisfaction. ‘I so love it when I’m right.’
‘Oh, do shut up,’ we said. Suddenly it felt like old times. I glanced at Caz, wondering if she felt the same. Could we possibly reclaim our past after all?
‘So, are we still having fun?’ Dorrie had gathered us all, like the mother hen she was, and insisted we wait out a spring shower in a café crowded with families: small children darted here and there, toddlers screamed and were pacified with soothers and bottles. I had a pang of longing for my own family, at home without me. I knew the boys would love Euro Disney. I had a sudden fantasy of Steve and me finally sorting out our problems and coming here for a family celebration. Then dismissed it. That was never going to happen.
The café staff were evidently overrun, as the place was overflowing with plastic cups and plates which hadn’t been cleared away. I was beginning to get a headache, not helped by the endlessly cheery music. I’d only been here a day and already I was fed up with the place, longing to have a hot drink out of a proper mug, rather than a Styrofoam cup. And really, if I were being honest, I wanted to be at home with the children.
‘Yes, Auntie Dorrie,’ grinned Caz. ‘Honestly, we’re not your children, and we’re not Darren. You can talk to us like normal human beings, you know.’
‘Sorry,’ Dorrie looked shamefaced. ‘I don’t mean to go on, but you know how much I love everything Disney and I just want everyone to have a good time.’
‘It’s great,’ I assured her, lying through my teeth. The only other people apart from Dorrie who could have dragged me here were the children – I felt the familiar tug of my heart, the boys would have had a blast here. I’d have to promise them I’d take them to make up for leaving them behind for the weekend.
‘Good,’ beamed Doris. She was always happier when other people were happy. ‘So what do you all want to do tonight?’
‘Any chance we can escape into Paris?’ Caz said hopefully. ‘I know some great cafés in Montmartre.’
‘Caz, even you must know that’s not an option,’ laughed Beth. ‘I’m sure Dorrie is just being polite. What do you want to do tonight, Dorrie? After all, this is your weekend.’
‘Well, there’s a Wild West show in Disney Village,’ said Dorrie.
Caz groaned. ‘You are so not going to make us go to that, are you?’ she said. ‘It’s bound to be full of screaming five-year-olds.’
‘And what’s wrong with five-year-olds?’ I snapped, my longing to see the children leaving me slightly oversensitive. Beth shushed me, clearly not wanting to get in a row, but Caz just rolled her eyes.
‘We’ll go to the later version,’ said Dorrie, ‘and I promise there’ll be drink. And Sarah, no more texting.’
‘Sorry,’ I said. I’d been surreptitiously texting Steve on and off all day to see how he was getting on. This was the first time I’d ever been away from the kids for any length of time and I was missing them badly. I wasn’t, oddly enough, missing Steve. It was peculiarly restful not having to think about Steve, or us, or what I was going to do about the monumental mess my life was in.
‘So it’s agreed, then?’ said Doris. ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show and then we can probably still have time to see the fireworks before the evening ends.’
A couple of hours later we were all sitting in hysterics around a barbecue as we watched a spectacular show. It started with two cowboys in a mock brawl, which was so convincing we nearly moved tables as they came crashing towards us. They moved on then to have fun with a bucking bronco, and on discovering it was Dorrie’s hen weekend, they insisted she had a go, much to her delight. The show wrapped up with songs from Annie Get Your Gun and Oklahoma!. It wasn’t what I’d have chosen to see, and despite my slight thawing earlier on, I’d still have preferred to have spent the evening without Caz, but I had had enough beer to begin to relax and enjoy myself.
At least Doris had let us give up our Minnie Mouse ears in favour of cowgirl hats. Caz had flirted with the bar staff enough to blag some extra drinks and the mood was
