Chapter 16
It’s the following morning, and quite honestly, it hasn’t been the ideal start to the day I was hoping for.
We all awoke to a text from Nancy. I swim up and down the pool mulling over the shambles of the previous evening and how we are going to explain it to her.
She wants to speak to us all later today because she is still too angry to speak to us this morning.
The Dollz are lounging on the sunbeds. They have been unusually sheepish.
‘I think the real problem was that last cocktail we had while we were getting ready,’ says Big Sue, her eyes closed. ‘It was just that bit too strong.’
‘Hmmm. Yes, you’re right. Who made it?’ says Tash accusingly, without moving a muscle.
‘If it was The Skanky Lady we had in the kitchen, then it definitely was too strong because Cherry made it,’ Big Mand says, rubbing her arm. ‘But to be fair, I needed it for the pain.’
‘I genuinely think it was the faulty shoe, Tash. There would have been no fire if the strap had been doing its job properly. As a paralegal, I should know,’ says Cherry confidently, not rising to the bait. ‘We can probably sue whoever makes those Gucci knock-offs in China.’
‘If you ask me…’ begins Liberty.
There’s a collective groan.
‘Well, excuse me for having a PhD,’ she continues. ‘But the real issue here is our deep-rooted desire for validation. Our crippling need to hear people clapping every single thing we do. We obviously need a major overhaul of our belief system if all it’s built on is praise.’
‘She’s right,’ says Cherry. ‘It’s like my marriage counsellor says. We need to revisit our shared values regularly, otherwise I find I’m nagging Tony so much that he doesn’t know which nags to focus on.’
We all murmur agreement as this creates much discussion with words like ‘changing mindsets’, ‘managing partners’ and ‘life goals’ being bandied about. I hear Tash, a university lecturer, suggest they do some revisioning so they can hone their act to achieve their ambitions.
‘I hate to say it,’ adds Big Sue, ‘but maybe we need to take this little side hustle of ours more seriously. Take this hobby to the next level?’
I rest at the side of the pool, flabbergasted at what I’m hearing.
All of the girls have careers. Like, proper careers.
They are probably even a bit younger than me, and they all have their shit together.
Singing is only their hobby, an excuse for them to be together and enjoy each other’s company, and they’re better at it than me, who has been slogging away professionally for years.
I clamber out of the pool. If I was depressed before, then I’m totally and utterly floored by their revelations.
‘What do you think, Connie?’ Tash asks. ‘You’ve been doing this for an extraordinarily long time, and yet you still seem incredibly focused. Is this a sideline for you too? What’s your actual job?’
Is this a trick question?
‘I… I don’t have another job. This is it. I have to impress Nancy enough to trust me again while I’m waiting for my big break. I guess I just want to sing for the Royal Northern Sinfonia and then perhaps the London Philharmonic and take it from there?’
‘Why?’ asks Liberty.
I’m incredibly shaken by this very simple and straightforward question. A blast of grief surges through me. ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ I say, forcing a bright smile. ‘My mother was a classical singer with the Philharmonic. It’s what she would have wanted for me too.’
‘So how come you’re not singing with them? You sound good enough to me.’
‘Too technical. Not enough… I don’t know, not enough emotion or sparkle, I guess.’
‘How many times have you tried to get in?’
I’m not revealing that.
‘Sometimes failing to achieve your goals helps you fulfil your destiny. Maybe the Sinfonia or Philharmonic is not the right path for you,’ Liberty says, sounding exactly like Liam as she nods at the girls.
How dare she! What does she know? I am immediately incensed. ‘I know what my path should be. And I certainly know all about failing. Is that what you mean? I’m a failure?’ I say through tight lips.
‘I think what Liberty means, love, is that you probably need to experience life a bit more. Fall in love, fall out of love and back in love again,’ Cherry says gently, sounding exactly like Ged.
‘Be brave then be a mess. Be a warrior then be a wimp. Do things, life things, and share the ups and downs with the people around you,’ says Big Sue. ‘Do you think you’ve maybe closed yourself off a bit?’
I lower my head so they can’t see my eyes filling up with tears and blink them away.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you. We all carry our deepest scars on the inside,’ Liberty says softly, her eyes full of sympathy.
That’s all it takes. One look. One apology. My lip wobbles as hot tears spill down my cheeks. ‘It’s fine. It’s fine,’ I say as the Dollz lift their sunglasses. ‘It’s just that I recently lost…’
‘Your mother?’ says Cherry.
I nod. I was actually going to say my job. I’m not sure I want to open up to this lot.
‘That explains it then,’ says Liberty. ‘That’s why you don’t sing properly.’
Excuse me? I wipe away my tears, the tidal wave coming to an abrupt halt.
She continues, explaining herself to the Dollz as though I should already be aware of the answer.
‘Connie is doing that classic bereavement thing where her grief has become her comfort zone. Following in her mother’s footsteps will make her feel her mother’s still with her, and because she’s not chasing her own dream, it’s why she’ll find herself stuck in a loop, never going anywhere. ’
I can’t fucking believe this. I glare at her before I grab up my towel and stomp off. I hear instant bickering behind me.
‘You and that bloody PhD,’ Cherry calls out.
An hour later, I’m clutching my notebook to my chest and muttering into the wind.
Liberty has thrown me completely with her casual remarks and insensitivity.
How dare she assume to know anything about me or my relationship with my mother?
So what if I’m still grieving? So what if I’m stuck in a loop of failing audition after audition?
I take a beat to listen to what I’m saying.
When did I decide that I needed to be a classical singer and follow in Mum’s footsteps?
Is that what I really want or what I thought she wanted me to want?
I shake away the confusing thoughts. It might help if I get them down on paper.
Good old-fashioned pen and paper. I trudge down to the beach towards a small alcove and find to my delight that it’s empty and there’s a shelf of rock for me to sit on and stare out to sea.
I have questions for myself, starting with what in the name of fuck am I doing with my life and why? I scribble away.
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting staring out to sea, writing things down in my notebook or singing random bits of tunes that disappear with the lapping of the waves, but it has soothed me.
I am going to release all these musical notes onto the piano keys and see if I can’t Elton John the fuck out of them.
I get out my phone to record the basic melody for later and see Nancy has texted.
She is ready to give us all a joint bollocking and is going to FaceTime us shortly.
I take myself back off up to the villa. As soon as I walk through the door, the Dollz crowd round.
‘Sorry, Connie, pet,’ says Tash. ‘Liberty was bang out of order.’
‘I wasn’t,’ says Liberty sharply. ‘Owning your own truth can be one of the hardest things to do, but are you okay, Connie, love?’
I plonk my notebook down, nodding.
‘We’d hate to upset you,’ says Cherry. ‘For a bunch of women in customer-facing professions, we sure do antagonise people a lot, don’t we?’
This makes me smile. A few home truths for these girls are in order. ‘All you’ve done is leave me behind or leave me to sort you all out. There’s been no sisters before misters.’
‘You’re right,’ Tash says, hanging her head. ‘We’ve been awful.’
‘Sorry if we haven’t made you feel like one of the girls,’ says Cherry.
‘And if we’ve made you feel bad, sad or mad,’ says Liberty.
All three.
‘Shame because I usually have such a gift for lifting spirits, don’t I?’ Tash looks to the girls, and I see some of them agree.
‘You have a gift for lifting spirits all right,’ I say, pleased with myself that I’m still able to be quick-witted at such a trying time. ‘Especially tequila.’ They’ve been mortal drunk since before we even arrived.
‘It’s my job,’ explains Tash. ‘I have to deliver up to four hours of lectures per week. It’s exhausting.’
There’s a murmur of understanding.
‘And to be fair, I only drink because I’m a mother. It can be horrendous,’ Cherry tells us.
Ah, yes. Cherry’s children, aged one and three, are demons sent from hell to torment her and her long-suffering husband.
‘I drink between births. It’s the only way. I’m a huge supporter of fanny,’ admits Big Mand. ‘But there’s a limit to how much fanny a person can take in one day.’
No one seems to know how to react to this .
‘And another thing.’ I sniff, beginning to calm a little in the face of such empathy among the girls. ‘Those photos of me on your Instagram were hideous. I was humiliated.’
Suddenly, I’m joined by Liberty, Big Mand and Big Sue, who didn’t like their photos either and accuse Tash of never asking their permission first. Especially as some of them have important jobs and wouldn’t want drunken photos of themselves or their undercarriages splashed about the office.
‘You’re right. I only ever post photos where I look fabulous and you all look less… fabulous,’ Tash says, leaning against the kitchen table. ‘I suppose it’s my one flaw.’
They all lean in towards me with caring expressions. I suddenly wonder if I’ve horribly misjudged them.
‘Shit. Incoming!’ yells Big Sue, straightening up and waving her phone around. ‘It’s Nancy. Look alive, people!’