Chapter 26
Two bloody hours later, having borrowed a mop, bucket and two bottles of heavy-duty cleaning spray from downstairs, my bathroom is back to being pristine. Except for a blue stain on the ceiling that I fear will need painting over. It looked like a scene from the Exorcist.
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 important 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 or Big Sue or Liberty. I slide the doors open and go into the kitchen. Nothing. No signs of life or anyone having eaten, or anyone having thrown up.
I head back to the pool area and slide round by the hot tub. An instant flashback of Matteo and I making out in it 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 me 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.
I unlatch the hidden gate to the honeymoon villa quietly and marvel at how well concealed it is. The white walls round the pool appear seamless until you look from a certain angle and see there is a break in it. There’s a white gate arched with pink blossom that leads to the luxurious villa that Ged and Liam are staying in.
I 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 me 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 like naked Vitruvian men 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?’
There’s a silence.
‘TikTok made us do it,’ I hear Liam say in a low voice.
I’m still swinging my arms in front of me as I walk carefully 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. ‘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.’
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 teacloth 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 along the wall by the table.
I take a sharp breath.
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. I’m sure it will rub off or wash out.
‘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 has left stains everywhere. It’s definitely six hours, is it? Not six minutes?’
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.
Christ Almighty.
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 in 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.
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 borrowing 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 a nod 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. ‘They’ll take what we give them.’
‘What they’re given,’ corrects Cherry.
Tash tuts loudly, ‘Whatever.’
‘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 and their infamous ‘In it together or fuck off and die’ approach.
‘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 into the minibus, my phone pings with an alert. It’s for LA Entertainment weekly Facebook page. I glance at the image and halt midway up the stairs 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.’
‘It’ll be clickbait,’ I snap, grabbing my phone back. ‘Come on. We have a job to do.’
Jorge starts the engine and turns the music up loud. Smooth ballads waft from the speakers to complement the low mood. Tash sits staring out of the window on one side while Cherry sits at the opposite end doing the same. Both probably thinking of the small lives they are potentially creating within their hungover, booze-addled bodies. Liberty is uncharacteristically chewing on her talons and checking her phone constantly. Big Sue and Big Mand keep whispering to each other and occasionally nodding towards each of the girls. The atmosphere is glum as we hurtle through the army of cyclists enjoying their new cycle path in the centre of the main road in Benidorm. There’s a lot of beeping going on and screeching of brakes. By the time we arrive, there’s a clear need for some leadership and a pep-talk. As main headline act, I feel the responsibility lies with me. But Liberty beats me to it.
‘Come on girls. I know we’re all in a difficult place right now, but let’s bring our A game. This is Benidorm Palace. The crème de la crème of forced entertainment. The crowd are literally trapped in there for four hours, and it’s our job to make at least thirty minutes of it bearable. Let’s go in there and knock it out of the park.’
We take a moment to consider this. Liberty has never before tried to chivvy The Dollz on by the look that they are giving her. Liberty is fussing around, making sure everyone knows what they are doing, insisting on a quick sound check at Benidorm Palace which is very out of character.
‘We don’t need a sound check,’ says Big Mand.
‘But I’ve already told them that we are doing it,’ says Liberty, putting a hand on her hip.
I suppose it’s sweet that she is trying to earn their forgiveness. She has been a pain in the neck since we arrived.
‘Okay,’ booms Big Sue. ‘Liberty, pet, want to tell us what is really going on?’
Liberty peers down at her high, strappy sandals and pretends to smooth down her pleather mini dress. She looks spectacular. I take in her show-stopping, limelight-stealing, outrageously skimpy outfit. I’m not the only one admiring what she has done with her hair and make-up.
‘Are those my hold-up Lycra stockings?’ asks Tash.
Liberty reaches down and slowly adjusts one of the stocking tops. They somehow make her shiny legs seem even longer. ‘No.’
Tash screws her eyes. ‘And that’s my lip gloss. The mega-plumper in Violent Rouge. I’ve been looking everywhere for it.’
‘So what?’ Liberty says, pouting back.
‘Don’t start,’ booms Big Sue. ‘Let’s just get the fuck on with it. But as soon as we’ve finished, Liberty, you have some explaining to do.’
We troop into Benidorm Palace, barely speaking, like a group of disappointed school kids on a day trip to Butterfly World. While the organisers are falling over themselves to accommodate a group rehearsal, I take a moment to pluck up the courage to leave a voice WhatsApp for Matteo to tell him I’ve seen the news headlines. I’m going to tell Matteo that I am fully understanding, and that he is not to worry one little bit, because I’m not the sort to believe salacious gossip. After all, it would be a bit rich coming from the woman who, only last week, was splashed over the UK tabloids as the Norwegian prince’s bit of rough.
I find a quiet space away from The Dollz doing their soundcheck on stage but just as I take out my phone, Matteo face times me. I accept the call and hold the phone up to a flattering angle.
‘Oh wow,’ he says, his eyes mushrooming.
I blush instantly.
‘Good luck for tonight,’ he says, realising where I am. ‘I’m just calling to explain… in case you saw, erm, some news about…’
I smile at his discomfort. ‘It’s okay. I understand.’ We smile goofily at one another. ‘I had the same issues last week in the tabloids. It’s all rubbish. Comes with the territory, I suppose.’
Pah! Like we’re minor celebrities!
He sighs with relief and gives me another incredulous look. ‘I thought you’d be… anyway, it’s good to see you again.’ His eyes sparkle, and his whole face is lit up. He totally has the hots for me.
‘How long have you got?’ I ask.
‘A few minutes.’
I come over all Dollz-like and daring. I’m going to execute what The Dollz frequently call their HOT GARBAGE routine. Apparently, it never fails. After a quick peek around to make sure no one is watching, I smile in a flirty way. ‘How do you like my outfit?’ I tilt the phone and trail it slowly down to my cleavage, which is squashed into the world’s tightest spandex dress. Down over my flat, bare stomach to my legs. I perch the phone on a nearby table while I place my high-heeled sandal provocatively on the chair and run my hand the length of my stocking and just like in my Birdie nightmares, I slip my finger into the top of it before snapping it back into place French floozy-style. I drag the phone sexily back up to my face. Matteo’s jaw is hanging open. But not in a good way.
I peer at the screen. Something feels odd. There’s an arm over his shoulder and some salmon-pink hair hanging down.
Oh my God. I instantly bristle. He’s not alone.
‘You must be Connie.’
I hide my surprise as Birdie’s beautiful, large, turquoise blue eyes, slender nose, and full lips come into view.
‘I, erm, well,’ I stammer. How could Matteo not tell me we weren’t alone? Wouldn’t you start with that?
‘Good to meet you at last,’ laughs Birdie, coming back into view, cool salmon-pink hair piled messily up on her head. ‘Great legs.’
I feel my face flame.
‘I guess you need to get some air to yourself,’ laughs Birdie. ‘Rubber skirts? Am I right?’
I close my eyes and pray for an early death. But when I open them a second later, she’s still there smiling at me. She has perfect teeth and a smile twice as wide as any normal human woman.
I hear Matteo clear his throat and muscle back into the shot. I notice Birdie leaves her arm draped over him. ‘Sorry. She snuck up on me,’ he apologises. I must look shell-shocked. ‘So, we have to go. But it was great to see you.’
He sounds all brisk and formal. I am mortified. There’s no mention of my sexy leg stroking. Why? Why did I do it?
‘Matty told me you were very talented, but he didn’t tell me how gorgeous you are,’ she says, licking her lips playfully. ‘He better watch out. I’m an insufferable sapiosexual.’
I have no idea what she means but she appears to be flirting with me. Matteo shoves her out of the way, rolls his eyes and gives me an embarrassed look before we get cut off, and the screen goes blank.
I have never felt so disheartened. Just in time for rehearsals.
An hour later, we are standing backstage. Big Sue and Big Mand have become leading authorities on different types of sexuality.
‘She’s attracted to brains and talent,’ Big Sue is explaining. ‘She doesn’t care for gender. She’s after you for your looks and your mind.’
‘Oh. And I suppose therefore, she could be after Matteo for his enormous talent and brain too?’ I say sadly.
Big Mand laughs. ‘I’m not sure it’s his ENORMOUS brain she’s after.’
This causes a ripple of laughter from The Dollz.
‘Don’t worry Connie, pet. French women might have all the sex appeal, but they have no sense of humour, and they all have flat chests,’ Tash says knowingly to the nodding heads around her.
‘And we will show you how to weaponise your sexuality in time for Vegas,’ offers Big Mand.
‘Enough of that, let’s get out there and show Benidorm Palace how lucky they are to have us,’ says Liberty, hurrying us along.
I put all thoughts of what’s NOT going on between Matteo and Birdie right out of my mind and peek through the stage curtain to see Ged and Liam in the front row at a table set for two. They have turned up looking a worrying shade of burnt orange. I bite my lips to refrain from laughing. I best get it over with now, otherwise they’ll have a hissy fit if any of us pretend not to notice.
‘What? Who have you seen?’ Liberty says, grabbing the curtain and peering out across the crowd. ‘Fuck me.’ She fixes us with wide eyes. ‘Ged and Liam have gone the colour of turmeric.’ She bursts out laughing. ‘They’ll be the only yellow Kens in Vegas.’
The Dollz take turns to peer at them.
‘Shit the fucking bed,’ whispers Tash. ‘That’s so bad.’
‘They look severely jaundiced. I’m surprised no one has called the emergency doctor. They need some vitamin K.’ Big Mand puts a fist to her mouth. ‘K for Kenergy. Get it? Kenergy.’
We all stifle our giggles in case they can hear us. It’s the first time we have shared a laugh since we got here. It feels nice. And I’m sure I’ll be able to find something to rub that tan off with.
‘Group hug,’ Big Sue commands as we all gather together. ‘Let’s give them a show they’ll never forget.’
Finally, we all seem to be in the right headspace. It’s showtime.
It isn’t until halfway through their set, that the first hiccup occurs. I’m busy watching The Dollz from the side of the stage. They are nailing the complex choreography. They look and sound amazing. The crowd is joining in with every song and watching their every move. Then Liberty, who has been on fire since we arrived, belts out the midpoint banger as though she is Mariah Carey circa 1994 and makes the mistake of pointing into the crowd. I see the rest of The Dollz follow her gaze, and one by one their faces drop. I crane my neck around to see who has caught her attention.
Luke is sitting down at the back. Staff are fussing over him, and they have given him a whole table to himself.
Shitting, shitting hell.