‘How exactly am I supposed to get warm now?’ I groaned into my phone, collapsing onto my bed to emphasise my despair.
‘Buy a blanket, like a regular poor person,’ my sister laughed from the other end of the line.
I frowned at her, rolling onto my stomach.
‘What is?’ she asked.
‘You, essentially telling me to suck it up,’ I said. ‘Exactly how many palm trees can you see from your hotel room right now?’
She went quiet for a moment, except for some hushed mumbling. ‘Seventeen,’ she eventually confirmed. ‘But I’m sure they’re out of season. For the tourists, y’know.’
‘That island only has one season, and you know it,’ I growled.
‘True,’ she sighed. ‘Too hot. It’s always too hot.’
‘I hate you.’
‘I know,’ she laughed. ‘Look, if it’s bothering you that bad, why don’t you just find a heater servicing company around Canberra…’ she suddenly trailed off.
‘Liz?’ I frowned. ‘What happened?’
‘Oh, sorry,’ she came back, slightly flustered. ‘Just got distracted.’
‘Nothing,’ she said, too quickly. ‘What were we talking about?’
‘You were offering me advice on heater repair,’ I said. ‘And then you noticed what I’m assuming was a medium-to-large group of shirtless men on their way to the beach.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘They’re heading back from the beach.’
I swear, I almost heard her coo.
‘Focus up!’ I growled. ‘I’m the one freezing here!’
‘So your heater is broken,’ Liz rolled her eyes, clearly done with my issues now that something more interesting had crossed her eyeline. ‘That’s fixable! Just look up a ducted heater servicing technician near Canberra, pay the man and then move on with your cold, miserable life!’
I sat up, frowning into my mirror – the only pair of eyes I could glare at from my room.
‘You’re mean when you’re on holiday.’
‘The men are mean,’ she said. ‘I thought being a tourist was supposed to make things easier?’
‘Get in some sunbathing for me,’ I sighed, rubbing my freezing arms.
‘Will do,’ she laughed. ‘Call a heater repairman!’