A NIGHT OUT.
“Off we go for an adventure!” said the two inseparable friends as they tossed their suitcases into the luggage rack. The train departed right on schedule and arrived, without a single delay, at exactly eight in the morning.
But let’s start from the beginning.
Summer was in full swing. June, like a jet plane, had flown by at the speed of light, leaving behind no particularly memorable impressions. Yes, the first month of summer had melted away like ice cream in a dish, vanishing into the endless whirl of daily life. Then again, isn’t life itself just as fleeting—swift, transient, and full of trivialities?
And just like that, July crept up unnoticed, slipped through the door with its own key, and strode unannounced into their lives.
Anyone working a five-day week knows how emotionally draining it is to push through those final days before holiday—your mind is already free, but your weary body remains trapped at work. Clenching their willpower like a fist, the girls endured, waiting for the moment of liberation.
During this time, every customer seemed unbearably finicky, every manager overly critical, and time itself moved at a glacial pace.
“Has someone glued the hour hand to the clock?” Emily thought, glaring at the wall. “Hurry up and be over already.”
Her heart raced at the promise of freedom, her soul already drifting into blissful relaxation.
“Craving sweetcorn, pickled mussels, and prawns,” muttered Sophie after yet another customer finally left.
The girls also dreamed of treating themselves to a fine Scotch whisky—its rich aroma, deep hue, and lingering aftertaste had never failed to impress. Of course, such a proud and noble drink could be treacherous to the uninitiated, but why dwell on such trivialities?
“How about a dip in the sea?” the pair mused during their lunch break. “What could possibly stop us?”
Given the state of things, their choice was obvious. A trip abroad was beyond their budget, and no other options, even after a thorough online search, compared. They settled on Brighton’s pebbled beaches.
At last, the dream of these two thrill-seekers, adventurers, and idealists rolled into one was coming true. The question remained: would it live up to expectations?
“Everyone will be jealous, so let’s keep it hush-hush for now,” the girls agreed before racing off to pack.
Who could explain how to fit mountains of clothes, shoes, cosmetics, creams, and a dozen other “essential” items into a single suitcase? For women, this task rivals solving Fermat’s Last Theorem.
And then—there they were, by the sea. Gentle waves lapped at the shore. Boisterous seagulls circled above, scanning the water for their next meal. Absolute tranquility.
Beachgoers basked in an air of carefree contentment—adults lazily snacking on salted crisps and nuts, washing them down with chilled beer straight from the can, while children devoured flaky pasties and greasy fish and chips.
“Stand straighter! Don’t slouch! Right foot forward! Look at me! Perfect!” Emily directed, snapping photos of Sophie by the water.
“Now with the ice cream. Brilliant shot!” she declared, wiping sweat from her brow. “Now swap!”
A beachside photoshoot—what a production! The girls had to be tanned, toned, and ideally, free of under-eye puffiness. Everyone knows that late-night beer doesn’t exactly result in flawless skin, but sometimes—especially on holiday—you just want to indulge.
“Sophie! What’s this? How did you manage to make me look like I’m snarling, not smiling? Couldn’t you have told me? For heaven’s sake, get a grip on the phone! Stop taking a hundred shots—just pick the right angle and click!” Emily scolded before softening.
“At least I got good ones of you. These make me look like I’ve got cellulite, and this one? Who even is that? Oh, never mind. Hand me the selfie stick—I’ll fix this myself.”
Sophie, fuming, was about to storm off for a swim when Emily called her back.
“Who’s got a face like a slapped arse now? Come here, gorgeous—time for another selfie, this time with a cocktail, sunflowers, and some ridiculous pose. Ready? Smile! Got it!”
The photos turned out surprisingly well.
“Emily, we have to celebrate our successful photoshoot. How about dinner at a proper restaurant tonight?” Sophie suggested, peace offering in hand.
“Brilliant! I’m in. Let’s get seafood—” Emily’s mind was already picturing herself in a chic bistro, lounging with a flute of prosecco.
No sooner said than done. Dressed in their finest, the girls headed out that very evening.
Nothing about the restaurant hinted at disaster—but who could’ve guessed they’d make multiple attempts?
The place was nearly empty.
“Let’s take that table by the window, with the sea view,” Sophie suggested.
“Apologies, but that’s reserved,” the waitress replied. “How about here, near the pillar?”
“Off to a great start,” Sophie muttered, scanning the menu. “I really wanted to dine with a view. She only said it was reserved to charge us extra. Oh well, this’ll do, won’t it?”
“What? Two hundred grams of grilled scallop salad for the price of my secondhand Mini?” Emily’s eyes widened.
“Rocket and prawns—two hundred and forty grams. You could buy a flight to Spain for that!” Sophie huffed.
“Let’s check the wine list. Maybe that’ll be better,” Emily sighed, flipping through glossy pages.
Silence fell.
“Fifty quid for a tiny glass of wine? That’s beyond ridiculous. Sophie, you know a single sip won’t cut it for us. We’ll end up ordering more, and my credit card can’t take it—I planned to return from this holiday debt-free!”
“Let’s sneak out,” Sophie whispered. “I’ll go first, then you.”
Once outside, they burst into laughter.
“Like a pair of schoolgirls. At least we got the photos—no one will suspect we ditched the bill. Come on, I saw another place around the corner. I’m starving.”
First, they snapped a few glamorous shots on the restaurant’s red carpet.
Seated inside, Sophie scanned the menu and groaned.
“Emily, love, you know I’m up for anything—except starvation and heart palpitations. But listen, darling—even a halfway decent meal here costs a month’s wages, bonus included. You do you—I’m off to the loo. Grab our bags in five, meet me by the fountain.”
Attempt number two: failed. Third time’s the charm?
“Look how busy this place is! Prices must be reasonable,” Emily said, tugging Sophie inside.
The host seated them near a grand aquarium, where goldfish seemed to wink conspiratorially.
“What’s the antidote to bad luck?” Emily muttered, skimming the menu. “How do we salvage this night? If we’re going down, let’s go down swinging. Sophie! Watch and learn—I did four years of drama school for a reason!”
Flashing a smile at the waiter, Emily shut the menu with a flourish, crossing her legs to showcase her sun-kissed knees. Tossing her hair, she let her faux-diamond earrings catch the light.
“Darling,” she trilled, “we’ll start with an aperitif. A glass of Château Pétrus 2001, if you please. I do prefer a bold red with seafood.” She turned to Sophie. “Your usual, darling? Château Mouton Rothschild 2000?”
Sophie nodded demurely.
“Now, Beluga caviar, two bluefin tuna steaks rare with sesame oil, wasabi, and lemon—tell the chef not to ruin them by overcooking. Oh, and Kumamoto oysters, please. For dessert, carrot cake with truffle mousse. And do hurry—we tip handsomely.”
The waiter scribbled frantically before freezing mid-note, his mouth agape.
“One moment—I’ll fetch the manager,” he croaked.
“What are you doing? They’ll kick us out!” Sophie hissed.
“Relax. The way out is the same as the way in. We’ll manage,” Emily whispered back.
Minutes later, the waiter, chef, and manager approached.
“Ladies,” the manager began, “I regret to inform you we don’t carry those selections. Might I suggest our seafood paella, mussels in white wine, or truffle risotto?”
“What a shame. Very well—two glasses of Lokoya Cabernet Sauvignon Howell Mountain 2007. Surely you have that?” Emily snapped.
“Again, my apologies—we’ve had no such deliveries this season. May we offer you complimentary Veuve Clicquot Brut instead?”
“French bubbles? Hard pass. If you’ve nothing suitable, we’ll take our business elsewhere.”
Noses high, they swept out like deposed royalty.
Outside, Sophie scowled.
“And as they sat on the beach with their bargain whisky and supermarket snacks, laughing under the moonlight, they realized that the best adventures aren’t found in fancy restaurants—but in the moments shared with those who make even the simplest things unforgettable.
