Page 31 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

I drag myself out to where Jorge is picking his jaw up off the floor. His eyes are out on stalks as they roam slowly over each of us in turn. To make matters worse, the girls are gyrating around and jiggling their boobs for him. He is so beyond excited that hecan barely get the minibus started. It takes several attempts as his hands are shaking and he can’t tear his eyes away from us to concentrate on getting the keys in the ignition.

Liberty gives him the address and his face drops instantly. He fixes us with pleading eyes. I understand why when we drive to the end of our street, turn the corner and come to a stop. We have arrived. The thirty-second journey is over. Jorge is gutted. He looks like a man who has just been told he owes a fortune in back tax. I hand over a five-euro note and tell him to keep the three euros change.

‘Quiet!It’s Nancy!Nancy!’ Big Sue bellows as she holds up her phone. We listen to her make agreeing noises, her face serious. ‘Excellent first impressions… yes, uh-huh, yep, sure, new clients, a lot at stake, yep, uh-huh, make sure that… miserable black robes?’ Big Sue’s head whips round to glare straight at me. ‘No, definitely not. Happy songs, yep, no, yep, we will make sure of it, yes. No worries, Nancy. No worries.’

Big Sue lets out an enormous sigh.

‘What did she say?’ I ask.

She shrugs. ‘Nothing much. Only that she’s got a lot riding on our performance tonight and if we fuck it up, she’ll come over and ram her Louboutins right up our flanges.’

I gulp.

‘Oh, and Connie? She says stick to the happy songs tonight or she will kill you with her own bare hands.’

With my nerves on edge, we pile out of the minibus and into what I assume will be a monastic nightmare of biblical proportions. I am petrified that the Dollz will drink too much, we’ll turn up late to the gig and have no clue what we’re doing. It’s all far too slapdash for my liking and once again I’m so far out of my comfort zone I could puke. The girls are all giggling nervously, which doesn’t help.

The door swings open with a flourish, and Sister Kevin greets us with a loud, ‘Fuck me!’

We all troop in. As we are ushered to the pool area, we are greeted by a group of twelve wide-eyed, open-mouthed nuns, some of whom drop their drinks as we walk through. I am trailing unenthusiastically at the back as Cherry roars, ‘Slut Drop!’

Oh Christ.

We all drop professionally in perfect formation, rising tantalisingly slowly to a deafening cheer. The music is cranked up and suddenly, thanks to some impromptu pole dancing round a parasol by the Mother Superior, Liberty and Big Mand, the party is in full swing. All the girls are immediately approached by nuns fighting to light their cigarettes and fetch them drinks. I stand back with my hand on my hip, surveying the area. Now, where best to put myself so I’m out of harm’s way and barely visible? Just as I am casting a wary eye around, a nun interrupts my surveillance. He has tucked the hem of his habit into his shorts. He is sweating with the heat, and he is as red as a tomato. I notice that most of his waist-length hair has done a runner down the back of his head, but he has wisely collected it into a ponytail for safekeeping. I can’t help but wonder what his purpose might be in approaching me. I am giving off powerful ‘Donot, under any circumstances, come forth and hither me’ vibes.

‘Hello there. Would… would you like a drink?’ he asks nervously. I shake my head. I’ll be keeping my wits about me tonight, thank you very much. ‘Or would you prefer to get high? I know you girls and your fear of sugar.’

Sugar is the least of my concerns right now.

‘No thanks. I have to perform on stage in a short while.’

‘Perform?’ he says, his eyes lighting up as though I’m going to pop out some ping-pong balls like Sticky Vicky.

Oh yes indeed. I did my due diligence the night before I flew out here, only to later regret it severely.

‘I’m a singer. A sort of avant-garde, musical fusion of classical and spiritual but with a melancholic feel…’

‘Oh,’ he says, backing away with a look of disappointment. I might as well check over my backing tracks while the girls writhe around like they are auditioning to get into a Playboy Mansion pool party. They are having heaps of fun knocking back drink after drink.

My phone beeps with a message notification. I peer at the broken screen, which is getting worse as the day goes on. It’s from Liam saying he hopes I’m having a good time and not moping by myself, refusing to join in the fun like some boring, stuck-up prima donna under a cloud of doom and gloom. Standing apart from everyone like this suddenly feels very lonely. Maybe Ishouldworry less and join in a bit more, instead of standing here on my own. I edge a bit closer to the pool area where Tash is dancing with Sister Kevin.

‘I love a man with a beard,’ she says flirtatiously as she reaches out to play with his face. Noticing me lurking nearby, she suddenly barks at me, ‘Connie, feel his beard!’

Luckily, I am saved from the embarrassment of declining as one of the nuns puts on a Beyoncé track and we all line up ready to do some formation dancing. The nuns are reacting as if we are putting on some major Las Vegas show and whooping and cheering like Americans.

I’m in bits wondering how long all of this is going to take.

‘I’m a real woman’s woman,’ I hear Big Mand say. ‘I much prefer the company of a powerful, intelligent woman to a man. We’re so much better at stuff, you know?’

Her making a stand for strong, independent women everywhere is just what I need. The nuns are encouragingly transfixed and agreeing with everything she says. It isn’t untilI reach the group that I notice her glitter top needs a touch-up. Both nipples are protruding from the faded glitter, having clearly lost their shipping-industry-strength stick-on tips, her boobs jiggling with each wave of her arm. I dig into my bag and root around for the glitter stick that Tash gave me for such emergencies. I hand it over to Big Mand and flick my eyes discreetly down to her nipples to indicate the reason for it. She’ll be humiliated.

She follows my gaze and lets out a tinkling laugh that has the nuns mesmerised even further before she slowly opens the glitter stick and smoothly applies some sparkle. Every pair of eyes follow the stick round and round as Big Mand makes a huge sexual show of circling her nipples as she rubs the stick over them, cupping first one breast then the other. The nuns are open-mouthed and salivating. So is Big Sue.

‘Mandeep! You big hooahh! Leave them poor bastards alone and make us all some of those cocktails, pet!’ Liberty yells.

The nuns follow Big Mand over to the drinks bar like little ducklings. Elaborate cocktails are handed around to the girls, who are getting off their trollies. Everyone is dancing flirtatiously by the pool while a few of the nuns splash around, showing off.

Oh my fucking God.We should be at The Jolly Roger rehearsing by now and the Dollz are showing no signs of being even remotely bothered.

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