Page 74 of Benidorm Again

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 upborrowing 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,’ saysBig 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 thrownRyan 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.

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