Page 14 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

‘I’ll need a room to myself because of my ankle,’ Tash says firmly.

‘And because you bite in your sleep,’ Cherry reminds her.

‘Yes.’ Tash slips down from Big Sue’s arms and hobbles into a bedroom, leaving the rest of us on the landing. A huge quarrel ensues over who doesn’t want to share communal facilities because of certain medical conditions.

‘You always have to get your own way and I amsickof it!’ bellows Big Sue to Liberty.

‘You can talk, with your thrush! Yes, we all saw you trying to hide those tubes of Canesten in your case,’ Cherry says accusingly.

‘It’s supposed to be good for tired eyes! It was inHeatmagazine!’ Big Mand shoots back.

A massive row breaks out over who does and who doesn’t currently have thrush.

‘I need a sea view. The air is good for my thrushandmy asthma.’

‘Piss off, Mandeep. You’ve not got asthma. That’s your twenty cigs a day, that is.’

We are treated to Big Mand’s gravelly smoker’s cough. ‘I should still get the sea view, though.’

Cherry yells, ‘SLUT DROP!’ and is told to fuck right off as this isclearlynot a good time. This causes outrage.

It’s exhausting. I feel the tiredness of the last eight hours sting my eyes. Nacho raises his eyebrows and asks me if he can leave the keys with me. I find out that Nancy has not only paid for the entire villa, but she has also prepaid the two-thousand-euro deposit and that Nacho will come next Sunday morning, before checkout, to make sure everything is how we found it.

Oh dear.

‘There is a small room at the back of the property,’ he tells me quietly in Spanish. He obviously feels sorry for me.

I follow him downstairs and outside and sweep my gaze around the pool area but can’t spot anything that immediately strikes me as an extra room. Nacho leads me round the pool, past a Jacuzzi bubbling away, to a break in the wall which is so brilliantly white that the gap is almost invisible from any angle. It’s an optical illusion. The gap opens to reveal a white wooden gate opening to a short path, lined with pink cherry and almond blossoms. It leads directly to a white cottage that is entirely hidden from view. It’s totally gorgeous. I waste no time seeing what the place has to offer. The lounge area is flooded with light from the patio doors leading out the back to a private area with its own manicured garden and its own Jacuzzi. Nacho briefly explains how to use it before I follow him back into the cottage. Off the lounge is a glorious double bedroom with thebiggest four-poster bed I’ve ever seen, covered in crisp white cotton sheets and huge swathes of white toile draped over it. The en suite is stocked with fluffy towels and toiletries with posh-sounding names. It resembles a honeymoon suite.

I think of Ged and Liam and feel a sudden pang of longing. What must it be like to feel in love? Consumed with desire? To be on honeymoon with the love of your life?

A jangling of keys pulls me back from the moment. Nacho shows me a remote that controls the lights, the air con, the music system and even a massage function on the sunloungers. It’s all amazing. So, no matter how badly this week goes, at least I will have the calming sanctuary of this lovely place.

Before he leaves, we swap numbers. He says to me in English with a grin, ‘In case you want to see me and… in case I want to see you.’

Oh my.

There might be a flirty subtext going on and, if I’m not mistaken, a lusty glint in Nacho’s eyes. Suddenly, the sweltering heat, the heady mix of cocktails, his exposed skin and rippling muscles cause a lapse of judgement.

‘Well, erm, we’re doing a warm-up gig tomorrow at The Jolly Roger if you’re around?’ I say, trying to sound poised and cool. It’s been a very long time since I noticed anyone flirting with me. ‘We’re on from nine.’ A ripple of panic at the lack of rehearsal time rips through me.

‘You and the other girls are in a band?’

‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m not with them. The Dollz are my support band. I do… a different sort of act. More thought-provoking, you know… classy, sort of avant-garde.’

Please stop talking.

Nacho smirks. ‘Maybe, yes. I’d like that. I imagine you are all very loud, very dancing.’

‘Yes. Yes, we are. Very dancing. Yes.’

I have no idea why I included myself in that statement. I was once described as a singing statue.

It’s the sun, the heat.

I have heatstroke.

‘Hasta pronto,’ he says, kissing me lightly on both cheeks in that very Spanish way.

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