Page 75 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

He’s so funny. And dreamy.

I blink slowly and try to act cool, convincing myself that’s fine, of course he should go. I mean, this is just a holiday fling. It doesn’t mean anything. I can’t seem to keep the disappointment from my voice. It seems unthinkable that we should separate as we lie wrapped around one another.

‘Of course, you should go to work,’ I fib smoothly, ‘and don’t feel, you know, that you have to call me or anything. I understand.’

‘No,’ he says, stroking my cheek, ‘you don’t.’

He kisses me so gently I am immediately lost in a swirl of feelings. We move rhythmically together, never once breaking eye contact, and soon he is slipping on a condom and slowly entering me again. We lose ourselves in each other as our orgasms build from this slow, grinding pace. This must be making love in that very painstaking, tantric way that Ged and Liam told me about, but that they haven’t got the actual patience to do. It is tender and loving and I’ve never felt anything so all-consuming in my life.

I am smitten. I have completely and utterly fallen for him.

When we are done, he slips out of bed and leaves me with the promise of seeing him later as we exchange numbers.

‘I’ll come for the start of your set,’ he says, which has me tingling all over.

We have our final two gigs on The Strip tonight and tomorrow, at Voices. It’s the biggest entertainment venue outside of Benidorm Palace. It is a big,bigdeal. My phone rings, interrupting us. It’s Nancy.

‘I saw you weren’t yourself yesterday at the festival,’ she rasps.

‘Not myself?’ I echo.

‘No, thank goodness. We all noticed the huge improvement, so whoever it is you’re bumping bones with to get your pipes to sound that good, keep it up.’ She cackles out a gravelly laugh.

How does she find these things out? How? Dark magics?

‘Now put him down…’

Matteo and I look at each other in alarm.

How could she possibly know?

‘…and get yourself round to do a soundcheck at Voices because the manager has heard the rumours about you and the Dollz being a right handful. He’s not happy.’

‘Has he?’ I say, feeling shocked.

‘Yes. It was me that told him. Meh. Meh. Meh.’

While she’s trying to laugh, Matteo gives me a lingering kiss to remember him by and disappears out of the cottage. I am high on endorphins, and I don’t care who knows it.

‘I just feel so different,’ I tell Nancy. ‘It’s like he has flicked a switch in me and now my drab, grey life has burst into glorious fireworks just like the festival last night. I want to fling open the creaky doors to my mind palace and let in the light.’

‘Jesus Christ, mind palace? Are you on drugs?’ She pauses to wheeze between puffs on her vape. ‘Well, whatever it is, glad to hear you sounding full of beans, pet. I knew Benidorm would be much more up your street. Give me two more brilliant shows and I’ll have a surprise for you and the Dollz when you get back.’

I squash down the dread of going home in a couple of days. I’ll definitely need a selfie to remind me of Matteo and that this is not a dream. It could be my wallpaper for everything. I will get a quilt cover and matching pillowcases made with it on and perhaps a rug and a lampshade and definitely some mugs for Ged and Liam.

Unless,a thought pops into my mind,I want to stay.

I slide into denim shorts and a vest top and go through to the main house, stepping carefully round the pool area strewn with clothes, bags, shoes and hairpieces. It is completely silent. I take a moment, wondering whether to wake the Dollz. They won’t have got back until after me this morning, so it is probably a bad idea.

As I approach The Strip, I see an army of cleaners picking up bottles, cans, serviettes, burst balloons, tinsel and various items of discarded clothing in a bid to restore it to glory for the night ahead. I spot Voices immediately. It’s taller than the bars around it and has a ginormous red sign spelling out its name in light bulbs. The doors are wide open, the walls plastered with posters of bands, tribute acts and singers from all over the world. It appears very professional from the outside and I feel nervous excitement race through me as I walk in. I’m immediately staggered by the size of the place. It must easily hold a couple of thousand people. Its vast floors and mezzanine levels are crammed with wooden tables and chairs with several bar areas specialising in cocktails or beers, or both. There are signs everywhere advertising drinks packages, performances, food menus, themed nights. There is something for everyone, every night of the week, every week of the year. It is a very busy place. There’s a huge circular stage in the centre, and I make my way to it. I’ve never performed on a circular stage before.

‘You have to make sure you turn around regularly otherwise people think you’re ignoring them. It can take quite a bit to get used to.’

I spin round.

‘Hi, I’m Dan, best known as Jolly Murs,’ he says, pointing to a huge poster of himself. ‘And you must be the Ariana Grande tribute act. You look just like her. Loving your high pony.’

Shrieks distract us both as a horde of children races in our direction. I assume they must be huge Jolly Murs fans but, as they thunder towards us, they leap at me, almost sending meflying. The last to arrive, panting, is a little girl I’d recognise anywhere.

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