Chapter 25 #2
‘Congratulations…?’ I venture, unsure if that’s the right thing to say. ‘I guess you’re feeling pretty ill with morning sickness.’ That would explain the mood swings, but not why she’s boozing.
Cherry shrugs. ‘I haven’t taken a test, but I’m pretty sure.’
‘How does…’ Dear God, what’s her poor husband called again? She’s constantly slagging him off. I should know his name. ‘Erm, how has the news gone down with…’
‘He doesn’t know. I haven’t told him. And to be honest, I’m not sure if he’s the—’
BANG. BANG. BANG.
We jump as someone thumps loudly on the door.
‘Wait here,’ I say, running down the steps and through the tiny living area to the front door. ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Tash. Hurry up, I’m bursting!’
I fling open the door to see Tash looking very worse for wear. ‘The bog, babes,’ she announces. ‘Where’s the bog?’
I point to the bathroom through a little archway. ‘First on the left.’
While she’s in there, I race up to the roof terrace. Cherry has overheard and is trying to hide behind a potted plant. ‘Don’t tell her I’m here.’
I sigh. ‘Okay. Got it. I’ll see if I can persuade her to go back to the villa. Looks like she’s been out all night too. Weren’t you together?’
Cherry shakes her head forlornly. ‘No.’
I dash back inside just in time to see Tash emerge from the bathroom, pulling at her bum-skimming dress. ‘Sorry about that. I didn’t quite make it.’
Good God.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask warily. She is as white as a sheet. It could have been either end or both.
‘Doesn’t matter. Where’s your mop and bucket?’ She appears slightly cross-eyed and not entirely sober. ‘And we’ll need some bleach. A lot of bleach. And a new bath mat.’
Sweet Jesus.
‘Wouldn’t you rather go back to the villa and rest?’ I say, fearful that she will hurl chunks all over the rest of my lovely, currently rent-free apartment.
‘No.’ Tash wipes her finger under her eyes to remove some of the mascara smudges. ‘I came to see you. For some advice.’
Advice? She probably needs some advice on how to stop binge-drinking. We may be here a while. ‘Well, erm, I’ll nip downstairs and get a mop. You just…’
‘I’ll get some fresh air on the balcony…’
‘No!’ I say forcefully. Tash stops, surprised. ‘Because… because you need to rest. Lie down.’ I grab her arm gently and guide her towards the sofa.
‘Okay,’ she sighs. ‘You’re right.’
‘What do you think is wrong with you?’ I ask. Ten pints too many?
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she says in a small voice. Her lip trembles. ‘I’m pregnant, aren’t I?’
Oh my God. Can everyone just stop being pregnant for five minutes while I get my head round it all?
‘Pregnant?’ I squeak.
Tash nods glumly. ‘Probably.’
‘Or maybe it’s food poisoning? Or a bad pint?’ I suggest. ‘Or a sickness bug from the plane?’
‘Who’s to know? But I feel pregnant.’ She rubs her tummy.
‘Why don’t you do a test?’ I ask. ‘Just to be sure.’
She is horrified. ‘No! Not here!’
I don’t understand. ‘Why not here? They have great chemists in Spain.’
She shakes her head. ‘No. No way. Not here.’
‘I could go and get you a test right now,’ I say gently. ‘I’ll even wait with you. You can do it here. In the bathroom.’
Once you’ve cleared a path through your own vomit.
She smiles thinly. ‘Thanks, but I’ll have to wait until Vegas.’
‘Why?’
She sighs, elaborately throwing her arm up to her forehead. ‘Because if I do the test here, then I’ll have to call my baby Beni or Benners, won’t I? And I specifically told you I want to call it Vegas. Or Casino Royale.’
‘Right. Right. Yes. Of course.’ She is fucking insane. ‘Makes sense.’
‘You best get that mop because I was drinking Bloody Valentines last night, and they tend to stain. Plus, I had extra chilli and garlic sauce on my kebab this morning. I imagine that’ll be tough to get off the blinds.’
I try not to think of the hellhole she has made of my pristine bathroom. ‘Why were you drinking when you think you’re pregnant?’
‘I didn’t think I was pregnant until just now when I threw up. By the way, get some stepladders while you’re at it and a hose. For the ceiling.’
‘What?’ I say, aghast.
Tash swings her legs off the sofa. ‘Perhaps you’re right. I should go sleep this off at the villa. We have that big gig tonight at Benidorm Palace.’
She’s going to leave me to clean up her vomit. It’s like history repeating itself all over again. But if she doesn’t go then Cherry is stuck on the roof terrace. It’s lose-lose.
‘Fine,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll swing by later to see how you’re doing. Leave the bathroom to me.’
Tash softens. ‘Thank you, Connie. You’re a real friend. Please don’t tell anyone about the baby.’ Garlicky fumes mixed with rancid alcohol burn my eyeballs.
‘It might not be a baby. It could be a food baby.’
‘Christ, what if I do have to call it Baby Beni? Remember our last night in Benidorm, when I disappeared with Kev for twenty minutes?’
I don’t, but whatever…
‘We were in The Knee Trembler doing an upside-down pretzel over the beer barrels out the back. No, I just couldn’t…’ Her hand flies back to her forehead. She tears up. ‘I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t. Pretzel. That’s no name for a baby.’
Yep. She’s still drunk. Tash throws herself into my arms, enveloping me in a waft of pungent kebab meat. ‘You’re the best.’
I watch her pick her way down the stairs before closing the door.
‘She’s fucking pregnant?’ Cherry yells. ‘And drinking? How irresponsible.’
We take a second to let this land. Cherry looks like she has just emerged from a collapsed brewery. She stinks of stale booze. She has a vape pen behind her ear and mascara down to her chin.
She sniffs the air and retches. ‘It smells like she’s shat over a bed of rotting garlic.’ She retches a bit more.
‘Quick, get to the bath—’ I yell, but it’s too late. Cherry leans over and throws up in my lovely potted plant.
‘Sorry,’ she says, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. ‘I can’t stay here with that stench. I’ll have to get back to the villa.’
‘But what about the…’
Cherry pauses at the door. ‘And not a word to anyone about the baby.’
‘Which one?’ I say, not entirely impressed that I’m being left to mop up after these two.
Again.