Chapter 8 #2
Her face changes to a frown as her short-term memory returns in full and she goes on to say that Liberty was fingered at the bar and asks me if I thought that was bang out of order.
I genuinely think it is, so I act all outraged.
I wonder if the police were called. I’m pretty sure they’d take an unsolicited fingering very seriously.
Tash purses her lips. ‘I know! She’d already been with the Mother Superior. She’s just greedy. I mean, Liberty by name and liberty by friggin’ nature. Mind, we did have a very loud falling-out over it.’ She screws her eyes at me. ‘I think, anyway.’
I’m not sure how to react to that. ‘It’s been an intense twenty-four hours, what with your swollen ankle, Big Mand’s arm, Cherry almost drowning, the fire, the constant fingering and those photos of your gash all over Facebook,’ I say.
I could go on. In fact, I think I will.
‘And we haven’t even started rehearsing for tonight’s show. I mean, we should at least go down to The Jolly Roger to do a soundcheck this morning. Make sure they have all the equipment set up where we want it. We don’t want to show up at the last minute to find nothing works.’
Bit rich coming from the girl who set off this morning to do just that and forgot all about it the instant a six-pack was put in front of her.
‘Good idea.’ Tash stops halfway to a sunbed, glances up from her phone and sighs dramatically. ‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no.’
Christ almighty, what now?
‘It’s my phone. I forgot to plug it in last night. It’s only on 2 per cent. I’ll have to go back to bed and wait for it to charge up. We’ll do the run-through at the bar later. I promise.’
Who forgets to charge their phone? I experience a pang of pre-stage nerves and pat my pocket. All of my backing tracks are stored on my phone. Forgetting to charge it would be like a surgeon forgetting to clamp a main artery or a bomb-disposal expert forgetting to take his clippers.
It takes the girls another hour to get up and lounge by the pool. I am already swimming lengths, powering up and down with Big Sue, who has also promised that we will rehearse later, once the whole band is together.
Cherry wanders over. ‘This place stinks. Look at all that sick.’
‘It’s a disgrace. That’s what it is,’ says Liberty, plonking herself down onto the sunbed. ‘Someone needs to clean it up.’
Big Mand approaches with a frown on her face. I expect she will volunteer to clean it up. After all, she did start it.
‘I’ve just remembered,’ she says to Big Sue. ‘Who I was trying to think of last night. It’s Aquaman. You remind me of Aquaman,’ she says. ‘You’ve got incredible definition.’
Big Sue blushes.
And the pools of your vomit? Any thoughts about them?
Big Mand grabs a lilo and slips into the pool, playfully splashing Big Sue every time she tries to climb on. They seem oblivious to the unbearable stench.
‘It will take ages to clean the vomit off the patio now you’ve let it dry like that,’ I point out uneasily. ‘And it smells awful. You really should clean it up as soon as possible.’
I am met with an eerie silence, but I think I have made my point.
Big Mand raises her sunglasses in an accusatory manner.
Liberty does the same, her lips billowing out from her face.
I wish I hadn’t bothered. A massive row breaks out between them all as to who had actually thrown up, ending with everyone denying it and glaring at me as if I had been the culprit.
I give up.
I spot a hose nearby and think I may as well hose the tiled pool area down and try to get the worst of it up.
It is mostly a collection of blue, green and yellow puddles.
After half an hour’s back-breaking work, I have finally managed to sloosh all of the sick into the drains away from the pool.
Not one of them offers to help. I ask if we can talk about the song choices for the show so that we have no clashes, but the girls are so hungover that they can’t be bothered.
Tash has emerged from her bedchamber with a bottle of Prosecco in each hand, announcing she needs to hydrate to get rid of her hangover.
‘But you could go to the shop and get more lemons,’ she adds. ‘You obviously didn’t get enough yesterday. Be a love and bring some glasses out, will you?’
I am baffled to find myself trotting to the kitchen to fetch them. Why?
‘Yeah, get me a pack of Fantas as well while you’re there, Connie, love!’ shouts Liberty from her sunlounger.
‘All that fingering must have brought on quite the thirst, has it?’ snipes Tash.
‘I’ll need some painkillers, so can you pop to the chemist too?
Gerrem extra strong, hun. Me yarm smarts a bit.
’ Big Mand shows us her swollen arm, which is black and blue.
It looks horrendous. Like a giant inflated sausage with a lump in it.
I’ve no degree in medicine, but that is definitely broken.
‘How did that happen?’ Liberty asks as I hand the glasses around.
‘Dunno,’ Big Mand replies in a baffled tone.
‘But I’ll just self-medicate through it until we get back home.
At least it’s not me pulling arm. I’ve got to deliver a set of triplets when I get back.
I hope it’s not a forceps, or I’m buggered.
’ Her glass is quickly filled with Prosecco to soothing murmurs of appreciation.
No one can be bothered with a medical drama this morning.
‘Big Mand? What did the magazine say we should use as a dark tan accelerator? Was it butter?’
‘No, I think it was base-coat olive oil for a sun glow or coconut oil for a deep mahogany. Or the other way round. I’ve done both just in case. Found some in the kitchen.’
‘Connie, can you get more oil too, please?’
I swim to the edge, ignoring Liberty, who is clearly mistaking me for the hired help. ‘Doesn’t anyone want to come with me to The Jolly Roger to do a soundcheck?’
I am met with complete silence as they lie on the loungers, eyes closed, pretending they haven’t heard me.
Not one of them moves a muscle. As the silence grows, I get a pitiful look from Big Sue before she disappears underwater to do her Olympic-type flip turn, swims back to the other end and heads for the last sunlounger.
I’m still amazed that no one has even asked where my room is.
As I get out of the pool ten minutes later, I realise that the girls, awake and out of bed for less than thirty minutes, are flat-out asleep and snoring on their loungers.
There is no bloody way I am going to the shop again after what happened yesterday.
My mind drifts to Matteo. I find myself absent-mindedly wondering what would have happened if we’d kissed.
He has very kissable lips and dark, longish hair that would be great to tangle my fingers in, if only it was on someone not quite so unattracted to me.
He was very quick to leave last night without so much as an attempt to keep in touch.
That’s the second deeply meaningful experience we have shared and, once again, it has passed him completely by.
I shake the thought of him from my mind.
Now is not the time to get distracted. There are only nine hours left until the gig and I must sort out the playlist, find something nice to wear and think of some way of connecting with the audience so that they find me bearable to watch.
I’ll head to The Jolly Roger and do the soundcheck first. Nancy is probably expecting me, as the headline act, to take the reins and lead by example.
My phone pings. It’s a message from Nacho asking me if I fancy going cliff diving this afternoon.
I really shouldn’t . But I’d hate to offend our host. And politeness costs nothing.
But the gig is the important thing here.
I must prioritise. Although, time management is one of my superpowers, I suppose.
And I probably do need to experience something thrilling if I am to bring a bit of sparkle to my act. And show Matteo a different side to me.
Cliff diving sounds so adventurous and sexy and totally in keeping with my new image… as long as it doesn’t involve actual cliffs or diving.