Page 11 of Benidorm Again

I take a calming breath in and through slightly gritted teeth, remain polite. ‘I think you’ll find it is you that has me on edge.’

Now he’s got me being rude.

With an annoying smile, he says, ‘I’ll ask Dolly to keep an eye on you. Just in case.’

I roll my eyes. ‘If she needs to keep an eye on anyone, it should be you.’

In response, Luke relaxes even further into his seat. It feels like a power play. I wish he’d move. I can just imagine the headlines now, ‘Connie Cooper, classical singer found murdered in hotel room. Police confirm cause of death as ‘entirely victim’s fault’ all because ‘victim too polite to insist stalker switches seats’.

I shift in my seat to get up. If he won’t move, then I will.

He exhales sharply. ‘Stay,’ he says in such a commanding voice it causes me to obey. ‘I’ll go. We have obviously gotten off on the wrong foot.’

He’s not wrong there. Hopefully, we’ll be able to avoid each other for the whole tour. He might be attractive, but his patronising manner is highly irritating.

‘Well, if you don’t have any questions, I’ll get back to Dolly. She’ll be wondering where I’ve gone to,’ he says, getting up. ‘If you need anything at all, more handkerchiefs, a shoulder to cry on, we’ll be down the front. We should arrive in two and a half hours.’

Patronising arsehole.

Luke gets up from his seat, to walk down the aisle. He says hello to the people scattered further down the coach and receives lots of greetings and enquiries after his health and wellbeing. He seems popular, at least, which puts me more at ease. Stalkers are loners. Everybody knows that.

The journey whizzes by with many text messages back and forth between me, Liam and Ged – they are worried for my emotional safety. Me and Tash – she is worried that my singing ability will be compromised (I’ll try to show off) after a week with braying toffs. Me and Cherry – she is worried that I will forget how to sexy-dance (I was once described as a singing statue). Me and my dad – he is worried that my three singing jobs (the Northern Royal Sinfonia, Voices in Benidorm and Nancy’s tours with The Dollz) and the constant gallivanting is too much for me after two solid years of barely leaving the house.

Phew.By the time I have convinced everyone who cares about me that I’m at my physical and emotional best, the coach has pulled up outside a grand-looking hotel in Manchester. I rise out of my seat and peer around at the serious faces dotted about. I can see a group of similarly dressed women my age sitting near the back. Unlike The Dollz on first sight, they aren’t intimidating-looking and are probably the chorus line, therefore hopefully nice and friendly.

A matronly pudding of a woman bellows up the aisle. ‘Everybody off! Collect your room keys at reception. Dump yourbags. Back on the coach in twenty minutes for rehearsals and sound check at the venue. Then back here for late lunch before the evening performance.’

The women near the back bustle past down the aisle, smiling and chattering away.

‘Listen to Dolly barking orders at us.’

‘She’d make a great baritone. She sounds more manly than the men.’

‘She looks more manly than the men too.’ This causes a wave of sniggering.

‘Someone needs to have a word with her about those whiskery eyebrows and that pot belly. Just because she once toured with Pavarotti, she thinks it’s okay to let herself go. What Luke sees in her, I’ll never know.’

My ears are burning as I pretend to check my handbag for something imaginary.

‘He’s like an electric bike. Smooth, silent and fully charged,’ one of them explains. ‘I’m going to get on that saddle and ride him for hours and hours.’

The girls stop suddenly in the aisle right next to me.

‘No way, Maddy. I’m going to get off with Luke. Facto benito,’ says another.

‘Stop pretending you speak Italian. I had first dibs on him, Florrie. I told you on the last tour. You know I did.’ Maddy frowns huffily.

‘You said you were going to milk him like a cow, and you didn’t. He’s obviously not interested.’ Florrie looks down at her through thick lashes.

‘Pack it in, you two. Luke has never once looked at the pair of you in his life.’

‘What would you know, Trinny? You fancy him even more than we do,’ Maddy snaps.

I watch them bicker all the way to the front.

Cripes.They are The Dollz in posh form. All I need is for them to start heavy drinking and pole dancing, and we’re good to go.

When they pass by Luke, they give him big, shy smiles. Dolly scowls at them and whispers something in his ear as soon as they have disembarked. Luke shakes his head, a faint grin playing on his lips. She must have to watch him like a hawk. As I follow the rest of the singers off the bus, I avoid eye contact with the pair of them, keeping my eyes trained on the floor.

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