Chapter 26
Two bloody hours later, having borrowed a mop, bucket and two bottles of heavy-duty cleaning spray from downstairs, my bathroom no longer looks like a scene from The Exorcist and is back to being pristine. Except for a blue stain on the ceiling that I fear will need painting over.
I’ve had to have three showers just to remove the smell of it all from my skin and nostrils.
I also left a voicemail for Matteo saying to call me with the ‘not great news’.
But I have yet to hear anything back. I take a deep breath in as I head over to the villa to offer an olive branch to Ged and Liam, who have still not replied to my WhatsApp about what everyone is up to this morning.
I’m going in my Lycras with the intention of asking them to go jogging along the beach.
My suspicions are immediately aroused when I arrive at the villa to find it deathly quiet.
I let myself in the gate and wander round to the pool area.
It is empty. There’s a loud snoring from an upstairs bedroom that I take to be Tash or Cherry, but there’s no sign of Big Mand, Big Sue or Liberty.
I slide the doors open and go into the kitchen.
Nothing. No signs of life or anyone having eaten or thrown up.
I head back to the pool area and slide round by the hot tub.
An instant flashback of Matteo and me making out in the cottage hot tub sears my brain, causing an involuntary twinge of excitement.
In three days, we will be face to face. I’m so nervous and excited to see him.
I just wish I knew what he was trying to tell me.
As if he has sensed my worry, my phone pings.
Matteo has messaged to say that he is sorry he missed my call again.
Things are so hectic there. He will try again later today.
He has ended with a message in Spanish saying he is counting down the days and calling me Cenicienta.
Butterflies tingle in my stomach as a smile spreads across my face.
The white walls round the pool appear seamless until you look up close from a certain angle and see there is a break in it.
I marvel at how well concealed it is. Fitted in the narrow gap in the walls is a white gate arched with pink blossom that leads to the luxurious, picture-perfect cottage that Ged and Liam are staying in.
I unlatch the gate quietly and pick my way along the path, picturing that first night when Matteo ran me over on his moped and stayed over to make sure I was okay.
I knock gently on the door, and it swings open. At least they are home.
I sweep my gaze around the room. There’s the kitchenette where Matteo frightened the life out of me when I thought he’d gone home but he just went to get pizza.
The bathroom where he took a shower completely naked because he was covered in Fanta.
I laugh at how he told me many times that he wasn’t sexually attracted to me and that I was quite safe, and how disappointed I felt.
How we ended up talking all night and confiding in each other.
I remember becoming lost in his eyes. Whirlpools of darkness and worldliness.
He was the perfect gentleman that evening. So caring, so—
‘What the actual…?’ I hear Ged shriek at the same time Liam screams.
I snap to attention, immediately joining in the screaming. I don’t know where to look.
‘Hide your eyes!’ bellows Ged. ‘For God’s sake. Look away! Look away, woman!’
‘I’m trying to!’ I say, but my eyes are glued to the scene as though I’m witnessing some horrific natural disaster, like an avalanche hurtling towards me or a major tectonic plate opening up to swallow an entire city.
‘Connie. Close your eyes!’
I clamp them shut and instinctively hold out my palms to steady myself. ‘What is happening? What did I just see? I don’t understand.’
Images swim before me of my best friends standing completely bollock naked, arms and legs spreadeagled in the garden, covered in a substance not unlike a glossy wood stain for garden fencing. Whatever it was, steam was rising from them.
‘Who did this to you? Were you held hostage? What happened?’ What sort of monster would do this to two kind, caring, harmless individuals?
There’s a silence.
‘TikTok made us do it,’ I hear Liam say in a low voice.
I’m still holding out my arms in front of me as I walk carefully, eyes tightly closed, towards his voice. ‘Sorry. Who?’
‘It’s a new hack,’ says Ged. ‘It’s tan accelerator. For the pre-moon.’ As though it needs any explanation. ‘We have to stand here for six hours and then wash it off.’
‘Six hours?’
‘Yes. You get a tan equivalent to a whole year but in only six hours.’
‘An all-over tan by the looks of things,’ I say from behind closed eyelids. ‘Why are you steaming? Are you sure that stuff is safe?’
‘Of course it is. It’s off TikTok. Anyway, we’re only three hours in so we can’t go anywhere as it dries rock hard, but would you be a love and bring us something to eat, please? We’re starving. But don’t look at us.’
I hurry to the kitchenette to make sandwiches for them, and see the pot of treacle-like substance dripping onto the bench.
I wipe up the spills and notice it stains the tea cloth immediately.
I can see where they’ve brushed past the fridge on their way out to the garden.
I wipe that up too and follow a trail of tan accelerator along the wall to the dining table.
I take a sharp inhale.
The Ken and Barbie costumes are piled high on the table. Either Ged or Liam has accidentally bumped against them, causing some dark brown staining against the white and pink fabrics. My stomach drops.
‘Guys,’ I say, taking hastily made cheese salad rolls out to them with a hand over my eyes. ‘Are you sure about the tan treatments? Because it has dripped all over and left stains everywhere.’
‘I’m sure it will rub off or wash out,’ says Liam.
‘And it’s definitely six hours, is it? Not six minutes?’ I ask.
Ged gives Liam a momentary look of alarm. ‘What does the packaging say?’ he asks me.
‘I don’t know,’ I shoot back. ‘I’ll go check.’
I can hear them beginning to panic. I take a deep breath and yell behind me, ‘I’m sure it’ll be okay. I’ll check the tin.’
I race into the kitchen and gingerly pick up the pot, scanning the small print.
Oh no.
It will not be okay.
* * *
‘Where are Ged and Liam?’ Tash asks later that evening as we get ready in the villa kitchen for the biggest show of the trip.
Benidorm Palace hosts thousands of people every night of the week and is renowned for putting on the highest quality shows on the whole of the Costa Blanca.
The audience are treated to a five-course dinner and dazzling original performances, dance, acrobatics, magic and cabaret-style music.
They pride themselves on having the best costumes, the best staging and the best light and sound to create unforgettable and captivating entertainment.
They have launched many a singing career. It’s quite nerve-wracking.
‘Oh, Ged and Liam?’ I say, images floating before me.
It has been a very harrowing afternoon involving me helping to pull, peel, chip and lever off the second skin that was welded onto their bodies.
I found myself performing unintentional head-to-toe depilation and ended up using the patio power shower to hose what was basically industrial-strength road tarmac off the boys.
‘They’ll meet us there. What time is Jorge picking us up? ’
Before anyone can answer there is a familiar beep-beeping outside. ‘He came half an hour ago,’ says Tash. The Dollz turn towards the door with nods of acknowledgement, but none of them move. Poor Jorge.
‘Don’t we look fabulous?’ says Big Mand, surveying the group as we stand around the kitchen table. It is piled high with make-up, hair tools, brushes, pots of paint and jars of glitter.
‘No. We don’t,’ says Liberty. ‘We need more. We need to stand out. Tonight has to be perfect.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ argues Tash, who still seems a little worse for wear. Like Cherry, despite the heavy make-up, she has dark circles underneath her eyes. ‘They’ll take what we give them.’
‘You mean what they’re given,’ corrects Cherry.
Tash tuts loudly. ‘Whatever. If they don’t like it, they can just fuck off and die.’
‘I mean it,’ says Liberty. ‘Come on, girls. Don’t let me down.’
I can feel everyone tense. This seems wildly inappropriate, even for Liberty, who everyone has the hump with. If I’ve learnt anything at all, it’s that the Dollz thrive on their ‘who gives two flying shits’ attitude.
‘Don’t be a dick,’ says Big Sue. ‘Pull yourself together, Libs. You’re not normally like this.’
‘The taxi is here,’ I say to lighten the mood. ‘Ooh, get us. On time for once.’
‘She’s right. Let’s ship out. Move it, people.
’ We all do what Big Sue says and scurry out to a waiting Jorge.
He is lounging against his minibus, peering anxiously down the street and smoking a ciggie.
There is a small pile of cigarette butts at his feet.
They have kept him waiting for way more than half an hour.
Just as we’re about to pile on to the minibus, my phone pings with an alert. It’s for the LA entertainment Facebook page. I glance at the image and halt midway up the steps, causing Big Mand to bump into me.
‘Is that Matteo?’ she says, peering over my shoulder. She whips my phone off me to wave it at the girls. ‘Matteo is having an affair with Birdie. It says right here.’
They are quick to pass round the image of Birdie looking impossibly glamorous, and Matteo looking dishevelled and sexy, leaving the studio together. ‘We’ll kill him,’ threatens Big Sue.
‘They’re describing them as the ultimate music power couple,’ bellows Liberty, turning straight to me. ‘And speculating as to who they are working with. They’ve thrown Ryan Gosling and Mark Ronson in the mix after their performance at the Oscars.’