Page 8 of Benidorm Again

‘There you go. That’s all of them,’ Liam says, rubbing his hands together like a cabbie. ‘And try not to obsess about Matteo and Birdie. She seems very professional to me.She clearly has a thing for dark and broodymusicians, not for dark and broody musicproducers. And just because she’s a hot-blooded Frenchie and he’s a hot-blooded Latino, doesn’t mean that they’ll have amazing chemistry or be instantly attracted…’

I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘Please stop talking, Liam.’

It’s almost as though he is as upset about it as me. He has talked of nothing else. He has imagined Birdie blowing smoke rings at Matteo while lounging around in her sexy French underwear.

‘And just because they are both insanely good-looking and locked away together in a creatively emotive and sensual environment, does not mean that one thing might lead to another.’ Liam looks at me with pleading eyes, almost begging me to agree.

‘You’re right, it doesn’t,’ I tell him. ‘Because Matteo isn’t the sort to cheat.’ After all, I did rather find out the hard way. And by hard, I mean, of course, embarrassing. I was hurling accusations left and right at the time. I could cringe thinking about it. ‘Not after that whole business with his cheating ex-fiancée.’

‘Did you manage to lock in that exclusivity agreement with him?’ Liam asks as though he’s negotiating a peace deal inthe Middle East. ‘Have you landed on a relationship status?’

I shake my head glumly.

Liam instantly rallies. ‘Okay. Let’s just focus on the positives. In less than two weeks, we will all be in Las Vegas together where you can firm up the fine print. The sooner we get you on this bus and back home again, the better.’

I stare down at the many cases in a daze as exhaustion sweeps through me. Three are full of costumes, the other my day clothes, hair and make-up things. Across the car park, two coaches are waiting outside the enormous shell-like structure that is The Glasshouse, International Centre for Music. Ripples from the River Tyne are reflecting off its mirrored panels. Hordes of people are hurrying to pile suitcases and garment bags underneath the carriage, before scrambling to get on board with a multitude of musical instrument-shaped cases. Within seconds, the buses have fired up the engines ready to go. I feel the panic rising from my stomach. Liam grabs my hand instinctively.

His eyes tell me he knows exactly what’s going on. ‘Breathe,’ he whispers to me. ‘Just breathe through it.’

Without warning, tears sting my eyes, causing me to take huge gulps of air into my lungs. ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,’ I say. ‘What’s the point if my mam won’t even get tosee me.’ I bury my head into Liam and unexpectedly burst into tears. I can’t do this. I have too many memories of watching my mother perform on stage. It’s all too raw, too fragile.

Liam envelops me in a hug. It’s warm and comforting. He says nothing as I soak his shirt with my tears. I can feel a coachful of eyes on me.

Beep. Beep.

‘I can’t do it. I can’t go,’ I manage between quiet sobs. ‘What if I’m not good enough? What if they expect me to be as good as she was?’

‘There’s nothing to be gained by letting them all down at the last minute,’ Liam says calmly. ‘Just go and do your best. It’s not like they’ll boo you off stage or any –’

He stops talking because he has possibly just remembered the time, not so long ago, that I was actually booed off stage for crying too much while singing Adele covers. It was a tough gig. Cubes of sheep’s cheese and many garlic-infused olives were thrown at the stage. We all thought it was harsh, but Ged said that he’d be annoyed too if it was his wedding.

‘You’re just tired. What do we always say? Face the fear and do it anyway,’ Liam says. ‘You’ll be amazing. Remember to smile, and you will light up the stage. You’ve got this,Connie. You auditioned for years. You might as well give it a go.’

He’s right. I spent too long trying to follow in my mother’s footsteps as a classical singer just to feel closer to her. I temporarily lost sight of what I might want from life. At least, if I give this a go and I’m no good at it, I can tick it off the career goals list.

BEEEEEEEP.

Someone makes a loud ‘ahem’ sound. ‘We are all waiting for you. Is there some emergency? Can I be of any assistance?’

A tall, impatient-looking man dressed in an expensive casual suit with a designer T-shirt, Converse sneakers and a loose scarf around his neck walks towards us.

‘I’m Luke. You must be, Connie?’

I sniff up my remaining tears, wipe my nose discreetly on Liam’s jumper and nod back. How fecking embarrassing.

His gaze very subtly flickers from my face to my legs and back again. Blink, and you would miss it. But I didn’t blink, and I’m not sure I’m making a very good first impression. His face gives nothing away as he reaches into his breast pocket to retrieve a very soft, but more importantly, brand-new looking handkerchief. He gives it a gentle shake, revealing it is monogrammed with swirly initials. Bowingslightly, as though he’s just graduated from an 1850‘s school of gallantry, he offers me it.

I gingerly take it and begin to mop at my tears in a genteel fashion. Maybe it’s to do with classical music but everyone always seems to behave more formally.

Dab. Dab. Dab.

‘Thank you,’ I sniff. ‘That’s very kind. There’s no emergency.’

‘Well, in that case, can I prise you two love birds apart? We do have a rather important opening night to perform this evening.’

‘Oh, we’re not lovers… no way,’ says Liam a tad too forcefully. ‘I already have a fiancé. A much better one. I mean a different one. A more manly one. One that’s much more emotionally stable.’

I look up at him.Who is this helping?

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