Page 56 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

Jorge is pulling up in his minibus. He has come to our rescue. We have never loved him more.

19

‘He’s never going to speak to me ever again,’ I moan the next morning, padding through to the main house in search of paracetamol. My brain is clanging like a set of church bells. They’ve been ringing incessantly from the moment I awoke.

‘No, he probably won’t,’ agrees Cherry. ‘What in the name of fuck were you thinking?’

What was I thinking? I was thinking, You would have killed me if I didn’t get up and dance on the table, you scary witch. That’s what I was thinking.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

I tossed and turned all night, tormented by images of Matteo and my strappy gladiator stiletto karate-chopping him in the face. Then, rather disturbingly, I was plagued by erotic imaginings of what would have happened had I not high-kicked him but instead had, as planned, performed a sexy, hypnotic dance to draw him captivatingly in. I may have accidentally altered the true course of destiny.

What if fate is doggedly trying to throw me and Matteo together and I, in some warped feat of self-sabotage, am gettingin my own way? What if I am to blame? This needs to be debated immediately. I flinch at the sheer pain of thinking.

‘What if he’s the love of my?—’

‘Never mind that. I think I might ask Sister Kevin to marry me,’ Tash says, interrupting me as she wanders in with a dreamy expression on her face. ‘It’s the beard. It does things to me.’

‘Yes. You should do it on stage at the festival, in front of thousands of people,’ says Cherry. ‘That way the proposal is both incredibly romantic and legally binding.’

And just like that, my mammoth philosophical predicament is usurped as the Dollz find this new turn of events extremely exciting but also, it would appear, extremely tiring. They trot out of the kitchen to discuss marriage proposals and how best to capitalise on them on social media, from the comfort of a sunlounger.

I’m restless.

Too restless to be left alone with only my thoughts. Flashbacks are haunting me: Matteo’s lips, his eyes, his biceps, and of course his quick and intelligent mind and his flair for business. I’m not one of those shallow types who is only interested in someone for their looks or their wealth.

As I follow the girls outside, my phone pings. We all stop dead in our tracks.

‘Is it Nancy?’ Big Sue hisses, her eyes darting around as though Nancy may have installed CCTV in the pool area.

‘No,’ I say, disappointed it isn’t Matteo. ‘It’s Nacho.’

‘Who?’

‘Enreeky. He wants to know if we are up for going jet-skiing this morning?’

The girls are now lying flat out on the beds, eyes closed, expensive sunflower oil dripping everywhere.

‘We have a marriage proposal to organise,’ Tash bellows from her lounger before slipping her glasses back up.

‘We probably don’t have time to go anyway. We should start rehearsing soon,’ I say.

There’s a collective groan.

‘Connie, you should go and represent us. Let him know we are still definitelyinterested. Just be back two hours before the festival and bring some lemons with you, babes.’

This is just the sort of distraction I need to take my mind off Matteo and the humiliation of last night. I will also be able to drill Nacho for information as to what happened to Matteo afterwards and whether his eyesight is still intact. Another wave of shame sweeps through me. I will text him to see if he is all right.

I tap out a short message and press send.

I make my way down to the marina to see Nacho and the cliff divers hanging about in a large group. I am warmly welcomed with much chuckling and mimes of karate chops and high kicks. Nothing I don’t deserve so I laugh along with them and assure them they are all safe as long as they stay at least two metres away from me.

‘How is Matteo?’ I ask. ‘Have you seen him today?’

‘Yes. He is good. No worries. We can hire a jet ski each from the kiosk and go out to the caves just along the coast because the water is beautiful there and crystal clear,’ Nacho tells me in Spanish as we troop over to the tiny cabin to strip down to our swimsuits. I pay my money and get fitted with a life jacket. We leave our clothes and bags in a big heap and are all shown down to the jetty and given jet skis. Nacho takes a selfie of us all smiling and waving in our life jackets. I take one too and send it to Ged and Liam or they’ll never believe it.

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