Chapter 21
The end-of-tour celebration always begins with a speech by one of the founding members of the Sinfonia, apparently.
It is being given by a very old gentleman who has come dressed to shoot grouse on a country estate.
He keeps stopping at the end of each sentence to noisily suck in a lungful of air as though he should be hooked up to a ventilator as a matter of urgency.
After laboriously telling us when and why the company was founded, he thanks the ensemble, the chorists and the tour manager.
‘If Dolly were here, I’d tell her what a marvellous—’
‘I am here, Mr Faberhouse,’ Dolly says, standing right next to him. ‘I was the one who escorted you in. We had a whole conversation about land inheritance tax and your views on what’s wrong with multimillionaires having to pay it, remember?’
He takes a second glance at her. ‘Really? Is that you? Why, I barely recognised you, my dear.’ He throws his eyes to the ceiling and carries on as though he’s baffled by her transformation.
Eventually, he gets around to thanking the world’s leading conductor, Krzystzof Helmuth, who keeps his own speech mercifully short and to the point.
‘I, too, would like to thank everyone for their efforts and look forward to seeing some of you doubling them the next time.’
He gains a weak ripple of applause, but he does have a point.
I’m glad I don’t have to make a speech. The mood has somewhat flattened, and the Dollz are making noises of becoming bored.
Just as we think the Maestro is about to tell us all to avail ourselves of the free bar, Luke steps towards him and throws an arm over his bony shoulders.
‘Maestro, the Sinfonia would be nothing without you.’ Luke sweeps his gaze across the crowd of musicians until it lands on me. ‘I’m sorry I messed things up for you, Connie. I’m sorry for lots of things.’
The silence that follows is ear-splitting.
Oh my God. Even the Maestro coughs with embarrassment. I have no idea what to say, and my face is on fire. Why would he apologise so publicly?
When I don’t respond, the Maestro shrugs Luke’s arm away to face me.
‘You are both as bad as each other. However, somehow it works. You are both as equally brilliant as you are competitive, as you are impulsive.’ He gazes around.
‘We all know it. You create something unique and very special together.’ He turns back to Luke.
‘Only a fool would not respect that. Whatever you did, do not do it again.’
The Maestro’s speech takes the wind out of Luke’s sails. He deflates in an instant, shrinking backwards into the crowd as Dolly yells that the bar is now open.
* * *
‘God, he’s gorgeous,’ says Liberty to me for what seems like the billionth time.
‘He isn’t. You’ve got your beer goggles on,’ I tell her firmly.
In my peripheral vision, I can sense Luke staring at me.
I make the mistake of looking over to see if I’m correct.
Luke is standing with each arm slung over the shoulders of two chorus girls who are gyrating against him.
Oh my God, his legs are too far apart again.
He’s laughing at something they are saying.
They take turns to reach up and whisper in his ear.
Now he’s flicking his hair away from his face, but his eyes are trained on me the whole time. He’s trying to make me jealous.
Oh, God. Part of me feels sorry for him. He really needs to stop thinking he is still in with a chance.
‘He’s rich, good-looking, posh, and he can sing. What’s wrong with him again?’ Liberty asks.
‘He’s a manipulative liar,’ I say, pointing at him dancing with the chorus girls at the edge of the dance floor. ‘And he can’t dance.’
‘Great idea,’ says Liberty, grabbing my hand and dragging me towards him. ‘Let’s show him how it’s done.’
Gah! Let’s absolutely not show him anything! I have successfully avoided him all night. The last thing I want is for him to think I’m deliberately cavorting in front of him.
‘We’ll get his attention, and then he’ll be sorry.’
I am aghast. It makes no sense. I watch, horrified, as Liberty bellows over to the other Dollz, ‘Hey, lasses! We’re doing the Tay Tay.’
What is Liberty doing? The Tay Tay is not for the faint-hearted.
Plus, you need to be wearing good supportive knickers because there can be a lot of undercarriage on display.
Liberty is bold and adventurous. She does not mind her undercarriage being ogled at.
Not one little bit. In fact, she says it is her favourite part of her body.
The Dollz leap into action, and out of nowhere, Ged and Liam appear. Ged yells to Liam, ‘I’m so glad we practise this regularly at home!’ They had to stand in for Tash and Big Mand on the final night of our Benidorm tour, and they are still buzzing about it.
‘It’s going to form part of the pre-moon finale,’ Liam beckons to me. ‘Come on, Connie. We can’t do it without you.’
This is the first I’m hearing of a pre-moon finale. I look at the crowd gathering around us and inwardly cringe. The DJ starts playing Taylor Swift, and suddenly we have taken over the dance floor as we get ready to perform our much-talked-about routine from Benidorm.
Luke is watching with interest.
I. AM. MORTIFIED.
We begin standing with our legs apart and our hands on our hips.
When the first heavy beat lands, we all swivel our heads to the left in perfect synchronisation.
Soon, we are gyrating our hips. We are twerking.
We are bending our bodies. We are waving our arms in time.
We are rolling our necks round and swinging our hair.
We are dragging our hands down our bodies, copping a quick feel of our own boobs, and trying to appear suggestive while we do it.
Then – God help me – we are thrusting our undercarriages at the crowd in a sort of splits-meets-downward-dog kind of move.
It’s very complex choreography. Cherry is a huge fan of mixing her genres, especially when it comes to ballet, pole dancing and the Kama Sutra.
I try not to make eye contact with any of the audience.
After all, they are my work colleagues. Fellow classical musicians and singers.
They are prim and proper and do not necessarily want to see me flashing the insides of my thighs at regular intervals or Big Sue pretending to reverse-cowgirl me, or how high I can kick my leg above my head while Tash slides down it to the floor like it’s a greasy pole.
We are coming to the end of the routine where we all respectfully place our hands on each other’s bum cheeks and rub them round in small circles before doing the same thing to our own bum cheeks.
We finish the routine in a variety of poses.
Splits. Low twerks. Sun salutations. Downward dog.
And again, with the bum obsession, our bodies twisted, one hand on a boob with the other on a bum cheek.
The crowd burst into applause as we stand, keeping our poses and panting heavily for a few moments.
I have to admit, it is thrilling. My heart rate is through the roof, and I’m sweating.
I wipe the hair from my face and make eye contact with Ged and Liam.
They are bursting with pride. They have every right to feel pleased with themselves.
‘That was so much fun,’ Liam mouths to me before we break formation and start hugging each other.
I accidentally lock eyes with Luke. His jaw is hanging open.
He is full-on staring at me. He is not even blinking.
I see him visibly swallow as he tries to recover himself, pretending to look elsewhere.
Someone catches his eye, and he forces a huge smile.
I follow his gaze to Liberty, who is batting her lashes at him.
She’s twirling a long strand of her hair and now she’s biting her lip suggestively.
He shakes himself free of the chorus girls and strides towards her like a sailor to a siren call.
Just as he reaches her, he glances back over his shoulder to check that I’m watching him.
* * *
Over the next hour, Liberty goes nuclear in her attempts to bag Luke at the club. The chorus girls try to put up a fight, but there’s no contest against a she-devil on a mission. Liberty is pulling out all the stops.
‘What is she playing at?’ asks Ged, coming over to me. ‘I’ve been watching them for half an hour. She’s all over him.’
‘I know. I’ve warned her off him, but she’s not bothered that he is a self-centred moron.’
‘She’ll love that even more. Besides, it’s probably him who will come off worse in that fling. She’ll go mental when it all fizzles out.’
As though Luke was listening in, which would have been impossible over the blaring music, his eyes find mine across a sweaty, heaving dance floor full of writhing bodies.
Ged misses nothing. ‘He’s clearly only flirting with her to make you jealous.’
‘He totally is. I’m even starting to feel sorry for him.’
Ged gives me a stern look. ‘Are you?’
‘If I didn’t hate him so much I would.’
He strokes his chin and squints at me. ‘There’s a very fine line between love and hate.’ He’s been overdoing it on the Tequila Rose shots, and they have given him a false sense of emotional intelligence. ‘This thing between you is clearly still unresolved.’
Whereas the tequila shots have given me a sharp sense of sarcastic wit. ‘I didn’t realise you’d picked up a PhD in psychotherapy while you were at the bar.’ I put my hand on my hip to emphasise my point. ‘Do keep explaining to me how I feel.’
‘You’re obviously torn between the two love interests. I’m not sure you’re being entirely honest with yourself about your true feelings.’
I huff, ready to disagree, but he continues loudly, bellowing over the music. ‘It’s about making the right choices when it comes to love. You should ask yourself whether you’re ready to truly love with authenticity and passion.’
‘Should I really, professor?’ I’m a child.
I can see Ged’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rise slightly. ‘Can you be brave? Can you be vulnerable with someone? Can you be honest and open? Can you forgive?’
This is a ridiculous rhetorical question, and not one that I’m sure I know the answer to.
‘Because in my humble opinion’ – Ged swings his gaze back to Luke, watching as his backside sways back and forth – ‘you’ve been neither with either of these… these incredibly hot love boats.’
‘Wow. I did not expect such a detailed or free therapy session.’ I down my shot.
I am miffed. Ged is giving me the hump. He is saying things that I do not want to hear.
‘I thought you were on my side. I thought you hated Luke, too. What about his fat tongue and standing with his legs too far apart?’
‘Seriously? I impart a decade of romantic wisdom and that’s what I get back?’ says Ged, seeming almost exhausted by me.
He’s right. I’m hardly the poster girl for emotional literacy, but when it comes to Matteo, I haven’t been open with him at all about what’s been going on.
And if I’m really honest, I think the reason I won’t accept Luke’s apology is because I feel as much to blame.
I was catching feelings for him early on, and I could see he was growing more attracted to me.
I should have put a stop to it earlier. I’m angrier at myself than Luke, I suppose.
‘Sorry,’ I say, rubbing Ged’s arm. ‘I don’t know what’s going on with me. It’s been a very weird week. And yes, I hear what you are saying. Maybe I was a little dazzled by Luke at first, but I’m sticking with Matteo. Even if he is a little too magnificent.’
Ged throws an arm around my shoulders to give me a hug.
‘What’s she playing at?’ says Liam as he approaches us with three Skanky Lady cocktails. He points to Liberty. ‘Have you sent her on a mission to ruin him, babes?’
‘No. She appears to have gone rogue,’ Ged answers for me.
‘Who’s gone rogue?’ says Big Sue, eyeing Liberty on the dance floor from her great height. ‘That’s hardly “hoes before bros”, is it?’ She shakes her head.
‘We do always say no double-dipping, like.’ Big Mand is screwing her eyes to get a better view. ‘Why has she got her leg up on his shoulder? It’s not time for the Strictly. It’s way too early for the Strictly.’
‘Who’s doing the Strictly?’ Tash says, looking a bit worse for wear.
‘Liberty is doing her Strictly move on Luke. Even though she knows he has a thing for Connie,’ explains Big Sue. ‘And they clearly have unfinished business.’
‘I’m all for her getting her flaps out, but she’s breaking the “sisters before misters” sacred code,’ Tash says. ‘She’s a bloody disgrace. Strictly is an end-of-night pulling move, and that girl knows exactly what she’s doing.’
We watch Luke slide his hand the full length of Liberty’s leg, right down to her rock-solid tiny bum.
He pulls her in close so that she is doing a perfect vertical split against him.
His eyes are popping out of his head as she slides her leg slowly down so that he can place his hand under her knee.
They are grinding their groins together as Liberty expertly bends over backwards to expose most of her chest and neck, her long hair sweeping down to the floor.
‘Now she’s going straight into the Dirty Dancing move. He’ll never be able to resist that.’ Cherry has joined us from out of nowhere. ‘She does look hot though. I’ll give her that.’
It would appear Luke can’t resist it. With one hand securing her firmly at the waist, he drags the other from under her knee, up her thigh to linger over her hip, her ribcage, lightly over her breast to her neck.
He brings her slowly back up towards him.
Just as they look about to kiss, Luke turns sharply towards us.
His eyes travel the length of our group as we all stare blatantly back.
Liberty takes the opportunity to roll her eyes at us.
But it’s Luke’s sorrowful expression when his eyes reach mine that has us all thrown.
He stands back from Liberty, does a little bow that only aristocratic men can get away with, and disappears into the throng of dancers.
By the time it is clear that he has left the building and he is not coming back, Liberty stomps over to us. She is not pleased.