Page 27 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

‘I’ll need some painkillers, so can you pop to the chemist too? Gerrem extra strong, hun. Me yarm smarts a bit.’ Big Mand shows us her swollen arm, which is black and blue. It looks horrendous. Like a giant inflated sausage with a lump in it. I’ve no degree in medicine, but that is definitely broken.

‘How did that happen?’ Liberty asks as I hand the glasses around.

‘Dunno,’ Big Mand replies in a baffled tone. ‘But I’ll just self-medicate through it until we get back home. At least it’s not me pulling arm. I’ve got to deliver a set of triplets when I get back. I hope it’s not a forceps, or I’m buggered.’ Her glass is quickly filled with Prosecco to soothing murmurs of appreciation. No one can be bothered with a medical drama this morning.

‘Big Mand? What did the magazine say we should use as a dark tan accelerator? Was it butter?’

‘No, I think it was base-coat olive oil for a sun glow or coconut oil for a deep mahogany. Or the other way round. I’ve done both just in case. Found some in the kitchen.’

‘Connie, can you get more oil too, please?’

I swim to the edge, ignoring Liberty, who is clearly mistaking me for the hired help. ‘Doesn’t anyone want to come with me to The Jolly Roger to do a soundcheck?’

I am met with complete silence as they lie on the loungers, eyes closed, pretending they haven’t heard me. Not one of them moves a muscle. As the silence grows, I get a pitiful look from Big Sue before she disappears underwater to do her Olympic-type flip turn, swims back to the other end and heads for the last sunlounger. I’m still amazed that no one has even asked where my room is. As I get out of the pool ten minutes later, I realisethat the girls, awake and out of bed for less than thirty minutes, are flat-out asleep and snoring on their loungers. There is no bloody way I am going to the shop again after what happened yesterday.

My mind drifts to Matteo. I find myself absent-mindedly wondering what would have happened if we’d kissed. He has very kissable lips and dark, longish hair that would be great to tangle my fingers in, if only it was on someone not quite so unattracted to me. He was very quick to leave last night without so much as an attempt to keep in touch. That’s the second deeply meaningful experience we have shared and, once again, it has passed him completely by.

I shake the thought of him from my mind. Now is not the time to get distracted. There are only nine hours left until the gig and I must sort out the playlist, find something nice to wear and think of some way of connecting with the audience so that they find me bearable to watch. I’ll head to The Jolly Roger and do the soundcheck first. Nancy is probably expecting me, as the headline act, to take the reins and lead by example.

My phone pings. It’s a message from Nacho asking me if I fancy going cliff diving this afternoon.

I really shouldn’t.But I’d hate to offend our host. And politeness costs nothing. Butthe gig is the important thing here. I must prioritise. Although, time management is one of my superpowers, I suppose. And I probably do need to experience something thrilling if I am to bring a bit of sparkle to my act. And show Matteo a different side to me.

Cliff diving sounds so adventurous and sexy and totally in keeping with my new image… as long as it doesn’t involve actual cliffs or diving.

9

I quickly text Nacho back, agreeing to meet him at the beach in an hour. I throw some concealer over my eye bruise and waterproof mascara on my lashes and finish with a slick of pink gloss on my lips. I change into my sensible bikini, throw on some denim shorts, a vest top and flip-flops and make my way stealthily out of the house. I edge round the pool area so as not to disturb the girls. They are still asleep on their sunbeds and look boiled. Like lobsters. As in blisters will follow if they don’t wake up soon. They have fully committed to theirgirls just wanna have sunpolicy. I sneak past and contemplate waking them.

But then I remember earlier, when I cleared up their sick without so much as a thank you and yesterday when I went to the supermarket for them and none of them questioned why I never returned, and, oh, they forgot to take me out with them last night for the big game of ‘Tash or Gash’. And so I decide it might be best to just leave them where they are rather than invite them cliff diving. At the gate, my conscience gets the better of me. Glancing back at the girls baking in the sun, I nip into the kitchen and put the cooker timer on to wake them up in ten minutes. I slide out of the gate and close it quietly behind me.

On the pavement outside the villa, I casually pile my hair up on my head and put on my sunglasses, feeling lean and athletic. Just as I head down to the beach, I hear the familiar rumble of a lady scooter pull up behind me. Goosebumps immediately prickle my arms. Matteo is astride the moped, long, lean legs akimbo, helmet slung casually under his arm as though he’s posing for a magazine shoot. I immediately go to pieces as though he knows I’ve been thinking about him all morning. Imagining what might have happened had I leaned in a bit further and kissed him last night.

‘Hi,’ he says, his face giving nothing away. ‘Thought I’d come check on the patient. Make sure you are okay.’

Something about him rattles me and sets me immediately on edge. I’m not sure if it’s his overpowering masculinity or what, but he simply oozes whatever it is. He runs a hand through his hair, which I find utterly mesmerising, and when he drops his eyes from the loose bun in my hair slowly to the bright coral nail varnish on my toes, I feel shivers down my body as though he’s run his hand lightly over me.

I gulp, dumbstruck.

Try to be normal. Stop gawping. Do not, I repeat, do not look at his legs, his strong arms or his crotch.

‘Off anywhere nice?’ he asks, sounding as awkward as I feel. I take in his strong jawline and sultry full-lipped mouth. He’s stunning. He has lashes to die for, curling up towards perfectly shaped eyebrows, which are currently forming a frown. He repeats the question to snap me out of my staring at him like an obsessive stalker.

‘Oh, no,’ I say. ‘Not really. I’m…’

Yes, whatamI doing?

‘Going to practise for your gig tonight?’

I lick my lips, which have gone dry all of a sudden. ‘Yes. I mean, no. No, I’m actually going to go cliff diving with, erm, the guy who rents this place to us. He asked… so…’

I’ll have to leave that sentence hanging. I took off without a place to land.

Matteo’s eyes widen. ‘Nacho? You’re going out with Nacho? Seriously?’

I frown back at him. He’s making him sound like a serial killer.‘Interesting that you’re leading with that and not the cliff diving. Nacho a friend of yours?’

Matteo bristles and goes to put his helmet back on, stopping briefly. ‘If you’re off cliff diving then you must be fully recovered. Enjoy your date. And good luck with your performance tonight.’

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