Page 39 of Benidorm Again

I return to my room after breakfast in a daze. Luke has taken the wind out of my sails. I was hoping to remain at a platonic distance from him for the remainder of the tour, but now he has spoiled it by being so… so… desirable.

I slap the newspaper down on the bed and remind myself of why I am here. I must get a grip. I’m at work. Luke and I are work colleagues. I pick up my phone, suddenly anxious to speak to my dad. I feel for the locket on my chest as I wait for him to answer. I wonder if he has seen this picture. I wonder if he was at my mother’s first ever performance. Was she nervous? Did she ever walk naked onto the stage and cause the audience to gasp before they collapsed into bawling sobs of laughter?

No answer.

I end the call and notice that I have a missed call.

Gah! It’s from Matteo!

I quickly ring his number back. I’d love to speak to him. Tell him all about the tour. Well, perhaps not everything. But I do want to explain why I’m in the newspapers making an exhibition of myself, why I appear naked on the front cover today and why I’m staying in a room next door to my leading man.

It goes straight to voicemail. The message tells me Matteo won’t be monitoring his messages and to try calling again in a week’s time.

I’m so disappointed.

My phone beeps. It’s The Dollz WhatsApp group. Tash has posted a pic of me on the online news and a caption that simply says, ‘STUNNING’.

Then Liberty replies. ‘LOOK AT THAT THIGH GAP’. Apparently, she is beyond jealous of the way my inner thigh triangle has been amplified against the backdrop of the orchestra, thanks to the stage lights – it’s all very classy.

‘INCREDIBLE BOOBS – they look fake but without the price tag’. Cherry, the only Doll to be a reluctant mother (the world’s first person to have birthed two over-sized, pointy-headed babies nine months apart) is also jealous as she has paid a small fortune, the price of a much-neededsecond car, to transform her saggy spaniel’s ears into perky breasts post childbirth.

I shake my head. Sometimes, their priorities are misplaced. I am anything but body obsessed. That’s the opposite of what I am. But I miss them terribly.

Big Sue has posted ‘DIVA THE SHIT OUT OF IT BABE’ #bodyconfidence #womensupportwomen

Big Mand has love heart hands emojied them all. If anyone has body confidence it’s her.

My phone springs to life. It’s my dad. I should probably explain the newspaper headlines to him as well. He must be so confused.

There’s a knock at my door just as I’m saying goodbye to my dad. Thank goodness he was okay about it all. He laughed off the suggestions of the Royal family being annoyed with me and the fact that my dress had attracted uncomplimentary accusations. He said, ‘Connie, love. If you can’t embarrass yourself in public when you’re young, whencan you?’

Which was sweet but didn’t really cut the mustard in terms of me needing reassurance that I haven’t just killed my career before it has even begun.

I open the door bracing myself that it is Luke armed with any flimsy excuse to see me, but it is the concierge. He is holding all of my costumes.

‘Oh, thank God,’ I cry, launching myself at them. ‘Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ I never want to wear that awful peacock dress ever again.

‘My pleasure, madam.’ His kindly expression is all that is needed to open the floodgates.

‘And just in time for the matinee performance today,’ I tell him as he waits politely to be excused. ‘Hopefully, nothing will go wrong this time, and the Maestro won’t have me sacked, and the chorus girls will finally get over themselves and treat me with the respect I deserve. Because… because at the end of the day,’ I take a deep breath in. ‘I don’t deserve any of this shit!’

The concierge waits for me to catch my breath.

‘Your car is ready, madam.’

‘Sorry. Yes. I’ll be right down.’

Luke appears in the doorway. He fills the entire frame as he leans casually against it. ‘I heard shouting. Are you okay?’

I take a huge inhale. ‘Yes. Just letting off some steam. Things seem to be running away with me, but I’m fine. I’m fine.’

He turns to the concierge, ‘Can you book us both a table in the private dining room for seven-thirty tonight, please?’ He smiles questioningly at me. ‘That okay with you, Connie?’

‘Oh, I, erm, hadn’t thought that far ahead.’

Why can’t he see that he’s the cause of things running wildly off track? I’m not sure we should be allowed anywhere near each other off-stage. He’s too much of a distraction.

‘I thought, considering your present notoriety, you’d appreciate a little privacy after the matinee performance today,’ Luke says in quite a matter-of-fact way. ‘Plus, we have a rare night off. We might as well use it to relax here at the hotel without any press lurking around corners and recharge our batteries ready for tomorrow’s York Finale.’

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