Page 30 of Benidorm Again

‘In case there are press lurking around with microphones,’ he says, gazing about. ‘You can’t be too careful.’

It sounds too reasonable to object to, so I walk with him back to the hotel. When we reach reception, he asks for the summer house private dining. We are shown through the elaborate grounds to a glass gazebo with a beautifully made-up dining table for two. Ornate flowers weave in and out of strings of lights strung up around the antique-looking brass and glass structure. The menu is as exquisite as the surroundings.

Once we have ordered elaborate-sounding salads containing pomegranate seeds and mozzarella pearls in a cress and cucumber foam, Luke picks up his napkin and gently shakes it out. I find myself doing the same. I sit up straight and try to appear interesting and posh. This whole place is a bit much and has me on edge.

‘Wine?’ he says. ‘Just a tiny drop to cleanse the palate?’

I really shouldn’t, but I feel nervous around him now that we are enduring what many would call intimate fine dining for two. Plus, I’m still vaguely haunted by that rude dream I had last night, that he featured pretty heavily in.

I nod. ‘Just a small one.’

There’s no such thing. I know this. I live with two highly functioning wine enthusiasts. There is no such thing as a small one when it comes to wine, and ohmigod, I take a sip of the cold, white wine that the waiter pours into my glass. It is divine. I feel my eyes balloon with excitement.

‘Madam?’ he asks, waiting for me to decide whether it is any good. My taste buds zing to life. If this is what proper wine tastes like, what the heck have I been drinking all my life? Paint stripper? This wine is incredible.

‘It’s delicious, thank you,’ I tell him and watch as the waiter pours Luke and I hefty measures. I remind myself that this does not mean that I have to drink it all. I will sip like a lady.

‘I’m so glad you like it. This is my favourite wine,’ Luke says holding it up, twirling the glass, inspecting the liquid as it rolls around.

‘Mine too,’ I say without thinking.

‘Really? What a coincidence.’

I have not thought this through. It is probably six-hundred pounds a bottle. There were probably only two barrels ever made.

‘I mean, it is now. It’s delicious.’ I relax when Lukestarts to chuckle.

‘I was a little surprised. It’s not to everyone’s tastes. Or budgets. No offence.’

‘None taken. As long as the Sinfonia are paying, I will drink it.’

Tiny pink spots appear on his cheeks. ‘Connie, tell me, where have you been hiding all this time? How did you come to have such an extraordinary gift for singing?’

Oh, my.He’s brought up my favourite subject again. Luckily, I’m wise to these tactics.

‘I’ll tell you all about me, right after you explain why I’m caught up in some Royal love triangle and why you led me to believe Dolly was your wife.’

I watch Luke’s cheeks redden even further. Embarrassed, he dabs his lips with his napkin before putting it down.

‘Firstly. I’m sorry about calling Dolly my wife. I just went along with you at the rehearsal because we’d gotten off on the wrong foot and well, because I see more of Dolly than any other human on this planet.’ He clears his throat. ‘As for the articles in the press. Our families go way back. Hermione and I were at school together in Switzerland.’

Of course, they were. Of course.

‘We haven’t seen each other for a while. Until recently.’

Luke fidgets with his napkin.

‘And the old flame has reignited?’ I say, finally relaxing. This is brilliant news. Luke is spoken for, and I am off the hook tabloids-wise. ‘I’m very happy for you both.’

‘She’s very… how do I put this?’ Luke throws me an earnest look.

‘Shy?’

‘No. She’s the opposite of shy.’

‘Rich?’You do hear about these billionaires wanting to keep it all in the billionaire family.

‘No. Not that. Well, obviously, yes, she is but…’

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