Chapter 25
We stare open-mouthed at Nacho’s bombshell. How did Matteo fail to tell me that he is working with an ex-girlfriend? Surely he has had plenty of opportunities to tell me (yes, yes, I can hear myself).
‘So, I think we can guess what the “not great” news is that he was trying to tell you,’ Ged says dryly.
I spend the rest of the Dollz’ set in a daze.
Horrible delusional fantasies of Matteo and Birdie together are poking me in the brain, taunting me (she’s in a clingy vest top without a bra, constantly fanning herself because the studio is baking hot, and Matteo has yet to realise that it’s because she has tampered with the heating controls).
I’m dying to probe Nacho more, but we have received numerous frosty glares from the Dollz for not paying enough attention.
Plus, Ged and Liam are annoyed with me because I finally admitted to not yet telling Matteo that they are all gatecrashing our romantic break.
Matteo is working with his ex-girlfriend. His hotter-than-average ex-girlfriend. His sexy, French, ex-frigging-girlfriend.
All too soon, the Dollz have given a stellar performance, as usual, and now it is time for me, in my bewildered state, to give them a less crowd-pleasing and far less energetic show. We clap them off stage, but they do not seem impressed.
‘What’s so bloody important that you couldn’t be bothered to watch us?’ yells Tash. ‘You missed every single one of my vertical splits.’
‘We were watching. We didn’t miss anything,’ I say. ‘You were great. Very bendy.’
‘You know that hot French music producer that Matteo is locked away in the studio with?’ Liam supplies readily. ‘Turns out Birdie is his ex-girlfriend. And Connie is having a giant meltdown over it.’
My best friend, the uncontrollable gossip.
‘Understandable,’ says Liberty. ‘Connie is the rebound from Alex, the cheating ex, remember? So, naturally, that makes Birdie the one that got away.’
I am speechless.
‘Don’t blame me for having a degree in psychology. Blame Sigmund Freud.’ Liberty gives me a mean smile.
‘It’s a friggin’ mood management degree,’ says Cherry, tutting. ‘Don’t listen to her, pet. She’s just jealous.’
‘And she hasn’t even told Matteo that we are coming,’ Liam says, clearly miffed.
‘My God. Are we twelve? Why are you telling tales like this?’ I don’t mean to snap, but it’s like my feelings don’t matter now that my best friend has become consumed with all things weddings and pre-moons.
‘Is that true?’ Big Sue booms. ‘What about Kylie? I promised Mandeep that we’d see her.’
Big Mand gives her a doting look.
‘And what about all the VIP tickets to the best clubs? The hottest parties? The frows?’ Ged is asking. His voice rises to a shriek. ‘Or did you forget about being best woman?’
‘Connie!’ yells Jolly Murs from the stage. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for Connie Cooper!’
Perfect timing. I dash away to the side of the stage and immediately apologise to Dan.
‘I’ve put your set list up for you. You’re good to go. Is everything okay?’ he asks.
‘Fine. Fine,’ I say. ‘It’s all fine.’ I quickly grab the microphone off him, snap into professional mode (in many ways this is no different to the many Sinfonia dramas) and prepare to dazzle the crowd.
All that opera singing has really sharpened my vocal range, and it shows.
I launch into a power ballad to smooth the transition from the electric sizzle of the Dollz’ sexy performance.
It instantly casts a wave of calm across the sea of bald heads.
I lure them in with my hypnotic sounds until you can hear a pin drop, before I build the song up and bring it to a crashing and dramatic crescendo.
Halfway in and the crowd seem over the moon with my set.
I’ve put loads of singalong tunes in there, as well as some of the Benidorm favourites from last time.
All the way through, I can see my friends bickering among themselves.
It’s all I can do to keep my mind from reflecting on Liberty’s comments.
Technically speaking, I am Matteo’s rebound.
What if she is right, and Birdie is his ‘one that got away’, which caused him to almost go down the aisle with his cheating ex in the first place?
It’s another reminder of how much Matteo and I don’t know each other.
A movement distracts me from this depressing thought.
Nacho, trapped between Liberty and Cherry, appears to have had enough and stands up to leave, looking mystified at them both.
I’m going to have some serious damage control to do when I get off stage.
I finish my set to rapturous applause – thank goodness.
Martha and Rody, the bar owners and Dan’s parents, come over to greet us.
‘Wonderful, wonderful,’ Martha says excitedly. ‘So lovely to have you all here.’ She sweeps her gaze across the group after hugging me tight. ‘Are you all pleased to be back again?’
Tash smiles weakly. ‘Yeah. I suppose so.’ She lets out an enormous sigh, which makes everything uncomfortable. ‘It would be better if some of us would grow a pair and stop sulking.’
She screws her eyes at Liberty, who is quick to retaliate. ‘It would be better if some of us would grow the fuck up.’
‘Maybe it would be better if some of us would just shut the fuck up.’ Tash is furious.
‘No, pet. It would be better if some of us learned to live in the real world.’ Liberty squares up to Tash. ‘And FYI, an unplanned baby is not a friggin’ surprise. It’s a friggin’ honeytrap.’
‘I think you’ll find that some of us need to chill the fuck out,’ says Big Mand, stepping in between them. ‘Although she’s right about the honeytrap.’
Cherry scrapes her chair back noisily and clambers onto it. Towering over us, she puts her hands on her hips and flicks her flaming-red hair before turning her thin, wiry frame in our direction.
‘I think some of us should take some responsibility instead of living in a dreamworld where they think having a baby will solve all their problems. They don’t always lead to eternal bloody bliss.
And FYI, being sliced open to have a screaming human yanked out of you while fully fucking awake is not as fun as it sounds! ’
We all turn to see Cherry, her face bright red, her eyes filled with tears, her voice filled with pain. But she is not finished. She rounds on me. ‘Connie, stop procrastinating. Do what you need to fucking do and stop people pleasing.’
She faces Liam and Ged. ‘Boys, I love you, but chill the fuck out about this stag do.’
They inhale sharply.
‘Yeah, I said it. It’s a fucking stag do. Get over it.’
The whole bar has gone quiet.
‘You’re like a couple of extremely needy bridezillas,’ she adds unnecessarily. ‘We all saw it coming.’
She spins round. ‘And Liberty. Luke is not fucking interested in you. He wants Connie, and he can’t have her. End of. So back off.’
Tash blinks slowly as Cherry swivels round to pin her with a steely gaze, her voice low. ‘And you. Babies are for life. You better be fucking sure it’s what you both want.’
We all stare mutely while she clambers down off the chair and charges to the doors at the back of the room, scarlet hair swishing violently, everyone in the place scraping their seats to make room and clear a path through the crowd.
All in complete and utter silence. She stops briefly at the bar to give Nacho a disappointed look before disappearing outside.
It’s a few moments before any of us can speak.
‘That’s it. I’ve had enough of her stealing the limelight.
’ Liberty marches off towards the doors too.
‘None of you care about me. None of you!’ she yells as she dramatically picks her way through the tables.
You can hear a pin drop. The crowd seems very invested in the scene. No one has moved a muscle.
I shrug apologetically at Martha. ‘It’s fine. We’re just having a few issues. I’ll make sure everything is good for the next performance.’
* * *
The following morning, I wake up after yet another horrendous night’s sleep.
Not only have I missed another call from Matteo because I’d gone to sleep with my phone on silent, but no one has dared comment in the WhatsApp group about anything.
Radio silence and plenty of it. We all pretty much went our separate ways after the show.
I made the grave mistake of googling Birdie and discovered that she has a habit of becoming romantically involved with co-workers and singer-songwriters.
There was an article in the LA entertainment section of the What’s Hot website saying she was locked away in production in a secret location because the star she’s working with is HUGE.
There’s a photo of her going through a doorway with a denim jacket over her head.
Her long, lean body is all you can see underneath.
And I’m not proud, but I signed up to notifications so that if any articles appear about her, I will get pinged.
I’m just about to put my breakfast dishes away when there’s a knock on my door. Cherry is standing there looking very rough and stinking of booze.
‘Have you been out all night?’
She shakes her head gloomily. ‘Not really. Just until four. Can I come in?’
‘Of course.’ I step aside. This is most unusual. ‘Fancy a coffee on the roof terrace?’
She nods, and I take her up the few steps to the sweetest little outside space.
It has potted plants and baby palm trees, a rustic, olive-green wooden table and chairs, and a couple of white plastic sunloungers, but the best thing about it is the view from the veranda.
She stands clutching the white balustrade, staring down the pedestrianised strip to the sea.
The sun sparkles on the water like diamonds.
It is a glorious, calm morning. I take in a deep breath of fresh salty air and wait for Cherry to tell me what’s wrong.
It takes her a few minutes.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she says, her voice dull, her face wretched.