Page 23 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

‘Hey, I was wondering… If you’re not doing anything tomorrow night,’ I say, emboldened by the wine as I put my hand out to stop him from clearing away the plates, ‘perhaps you might want to pop by The Jolly Roger if you want to hear me sing something more upbeat than shower ballads?’

I allow him approximately one nanosecond to respond before my deep-rooted insecurity takes over.

‘Only if you’re not doing something better. Of course you’ll be doing something better. In fact, absolutely don’t come. It’ll be shit.’ I roll my eyes theatrically. ‘Total waste of time. A musical black hole. Not even real music, really. Forget I mentioned it.’

For the love of God, girl, stop talking.

Matteo sounds confused. ‘Okay.’

That hardly helps. Is that a yes or a no?

We are distracted by a thunderous roar. The Dollz are yelling for Enreeky as though he comes with the place and is just standing around waiting like a human Alexa. I quickly turn off the music and dim the lights.

‘They’ve been boozing all day,’ I explain. I am such a hypocrite, but all that wine has made me incredibly nosy, so I beckon Matteo to follow me, and we creep down the path and open the gate just wide enough to peek through. The girls are staggering around by the pool until Cherry suddenly rememberssomething. They instantly forget all about Enreeky because they simply must dance. Immediately. Like their lives depend on it.

‘Enreeky?’ Matteo whispers. Our cheeks are almost touching as we crouch down.

‘Nacho,’ I murmur. ‘The guy we are renting the villa from. He’s insanely hot.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

Our lips are hovering ridiculously close. For a magical second, I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me before I realise something very important. It’s me who is doing the leaning. Me. My lips are pursing, plumping themselves up, ready to make first contact. I feel like a giddy teen.

It’s the wine. Far too much wine.

His eyes widen when he sees what my lips are doing. I should tell him they are acting independently of the main body, but I don’t get the chance.

‘You filthy shower of bastarding whores!’ shouts Tash above the music now blasting out from the main house. With the magical spell broken, my lips make a hasty retreat. I don’t even have time to feel suitably mortified because something must have gone terribly wrong in the last two seconds while we were, let’s saywhispering, because the truth of what just happened and him looking slightly horrified must never be acknowledged. I will erase it from my brain and get on with my life as though the moment simply never occurred.

‘I fuckinglovethe lot of you!’ Tash screams, and suddenly there’s lots of hugging. ‘Best friendsforever!’

‘Listen!’ Liberty shushes them all. I hope they haven’t heard us. ‘Even though I’m full of drink right now, I want you all to know… that we are…’ Liberty is hanging by a thread. Emotions are getting the better of her. ‘We are best friendsforever!’

‘I literally just said that,’ Tash says, sounding annoyed.

‘Did you?’

Next thing, all the girls are parading round the pool just like a fashion show. Matteo and I exchange a dubious look as the girls strut dangerously close to the pool edge, left hands on hips, right arms swinging in perfect formation. As drunk as they are, I have to admit it is pretty impressive. Until, that is, Big Mand catches the back of Cherry’s sandal mid-clomp and sends her crashing into the pool with a loud thwack. Some hair extensions float to the surface of the water without the owner attached, followed by a cigarette butt and what looks like a couple of round bread buns. Matteo stares at them, baffled.

‘Chicken fillets,’ I whisper, wondering when Cherry is going to emerge. A sandal floats to the surface while the girls carry on with their dance moves, quite oblivious.

Matteo slides his eyes towards me, muttering, ‘Jesus Christ, I’ll have to jump in and get her.’ But at that moment, Cherry splutters to the surface and doggy-paddles over to the steps.

‘Good job I didn’t drown. My poor kids. Their baby daddy is fucking useless.’ She climbs out and slaps her soaking wet handbag onto the side. ‘But I love being a mother. It’s a real privilege. I hope they’re okay without me.’ Cherry wrings out some water from her hair and kicks off the remaining sandal. ‘Wherever they are.’

Above the music blasting across the pool area, we hear an unpleasant choking sort of sound. Big Mand says she’s going to be sick and could someone quickly hold her hair back for her as she’d had it imported from China. Chinese virgins, to be exact, and she can’t afford to replace it.

We watch the scene unfold with a mix of morbid fascination. No one fancies the job of holding back such precious and expensive, bum-grazing hair, and Big Mand is understandably upset. ‘I’ve held everyone’s hair tonight when you’ve all been hurling chunks, and now that it’s my turn, howdareno one do it for me.’

‘I’ll do it,’ says Big Sue reluctantly as a row breaks out about the communal bathroom and how Big Mand isn’t allowed to be sick in there as it’s a shared area. In the end, Big Mand emits a quease-inducing, strangled sound and throws up on the patio in front of everyone, before Big Sue can lunge across to get her hair to safety.

‘It must have been a dodgy cocktail.’ Big Mand wipes her mouth on her arm.

‘Or maybe it was that kebab you bought from the man on the bike?’ Big Sue suggests.

‘Kebab?’ This is news to Big Mand. She removes her soiled hairpiece and holds it up.

‘There’s lumps in it!’ Cherry and Liberty shriek, instantly throwing up in unison.

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