Page 53 of Benidorm Again

I take a moment to appreciate the lively dressing room scene before me.

Cherry has put on her playlist and is dancing while also bickering loudly with Liberty. Big Mand and Tash are puffing away on their duty-frees even though smoking is not allowed in the building. They all smuggled eight-hundred cigs through Duty Free each and are determined to smoke them.

‘Who’s for lady petrol?’ I ask.

They balance drinks in their hands while hair-curling and hair-straightening. Hair pieces are being clipped in, eyebrows are being plucked and shaped and noses are being contoured. They stop to look me up and down. I giggle as the memories of the Benidorm make-overs flood back and let them loose on me while we drink the six bottles of prosecco I had delivered from the bar.

I love these girls.

‘Connie, where are you at with hot stuff getting us into all the fancy clubs in Vegas?’ Cherry asks, shimmying at me.

Las Vegas? Oh my God!There’s still so much to organise.

‘Erm, nowhere yet. Matteo’s incommunicado this week. I’ll ask him next week. But it’ll be fine. I’m sure.’

I’m not sure, and it won’t be fine, and I haven’t yet confessed to Matteo that our much-anticipated romantic minibreak has now become a work trip, as well as Ged and Liam’s pre-moon spree.Gah!

‘Eeeh, I’m so excited for Las Vegas!’ she squeals, and they all start jumping up and down.

‘Ow! Watch where you’re putting the fucking straighteners,’ yells Liberty. ‘You nearly had me eye out there!’

‘Stop moaning. You’ve still got another one, haven’t you?’ Big Mand says. Her career as a midwife has hardened her to most life-altering catastrophes. Especially childbirth.

‘Drink up everyone,’ says Tash, sticking straws in the bottles of prosecco as she hands us one each. ‘My mate Abi has got us into the VIP at Aveika. They’re throwing in a bottle of vodka if we’ll do our hot girl twerking routine.’

Adorable.Well, it would be if I didn’t have to get up early to shop, pack, do a final tour performance,attend the end-of-tour formal gathering with Sinfonia stakeholders and get on a plane the following day.

We finally pile out of the theatre, over the swing bridge and straight into the club directly across the river. The bouncers greet the girls like ex-girlfriends. And by that, I mean they practically snog each one of them on the way in.

This reminds me of Benidorm. Of Matteo. Of my life-changing, soulful experience. I will never forget how profoundly, how deeply Matteo and I connected. How from the moment we first met, we had this unbelievable connection...

‘CONNIE, hurry up!’ Tash bellows, yanking me inside.

The club is already heaving, and we let loose on the dance floor almost immediately. I glance happily around at the girls, flicking their sleek tresses about suggestively, as we dance around to the thumping music. It is a world away from the classical scene. A world away from the quiet calm of the music studio.

What is my Mr Window Seat, doing now? Where is he? Is he thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about him? Has he been tempted by Birdie, the way I was temptedby Luke? Has he learned the hard way that she is not the one for him? Has he, like me, realised that I am not the rebound but most likely the one? Maybe I should…

‘CONNIE! FOR FUCK’S SAKE!’

‘GAAAH! What?’ I scream.

‘PAY ATTENTION. HOW MANY DRINKS DO YOU WANT US TO GET YOU AT THE BAR? THERE’S A SPECIAL OFFER ON. WE’RE ALL GETTING THREE SKANKY LADIES EACH!’

I am so going to regret this in the morning.

The night whizzes past in a haze of cocktails and a whirl of dancing. I see Big Sue and Big Mand dancing together a lot. I join them and say they make a lovely couple. Big Sue gives me a glare that would freeze the sun. I say I didn’t mean a couple ‘couple.’ I meant a couple of good dancers.

Big Mand grins. ‘Watch this.’ She lures Big Sue into doing some choreographed line dancing moves that only they know how to do.

It looks great, and before we know it, we are all joining in with them, and it becomes a bit like a Texas line-dancing extravaganza in the middle of the dance floor. Then Cherry yells ‘Slut Drop!’ and down we go, coming up very slowly to loads of cheers from those around us. Everyone in the club is extremely pissed.

Eventually at 1am, I call it a night and just as I decide to jump in a taxi and go home, Big Sue swoops up behind me. Her head ducks between my legs, and before I know it, she has me on her shoulders, and I am being escorted back to the bar. Apparently, it is my round.

The next morning, I awake feeling very rough and make my way into the kitchen. Liam is standing by the Nespresso machine, fussing about with cups, avoiding my gaze and making a huge show of not making a huge show. Ged is glued to his laptop and unusually silent.

‘Okay, what is going on?’ I ask, yawning.

Ged spins his laptop to face me. It’s a copy of The Evening Chronicle online.

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