Page 80 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

I am pulled from the room into the harsh light of day, across the pool to the kitchen where Big Mand, with her arm now the width of her leg, sets up tequila shots. After two shots each, we are unanimous that we should get dressed up and head into Benidorm to see Michael Bubble play live at The Knee Trembler before we head to Voices to do our set before we get too drunk to walk.

‘That’s all that matters,’ I say.

The Dollz wait patiently for me to elaborate.

‘Friends. It’s friends.’

‘Friends,’ they chorus, and we clink glasses. Suddenly, I need to own my truth. Own it big time. I drape my arm around Big Mand’s shoulders while she is showing us how sexy a dance one-armed body-popping on the kitchen table can be. ‘I love you, Big Mand. You’re my best friend. You’re all my best friends.’ I feel a gush of gratitude that they are here to share this traumatic experience with me.

‘Oh yeah, here’s your share of the kitty back,’ says Tash, pushing a basket full of money towards me. ‘And I think a man-free night will do us all good.’

‘Like a detox,’ agrees Cherry. ‘A cleanse and deflate. Let’s deflate ourselves of men.’

‘And Connie, we will choose your playlist for tonight. You should sing heartbreak songs and soft-rock ballads to expel the negative energy build-up. You like to take your audience on a journey, don’t you, pet?’

‘Great idea. She should do some accusatory songs about men being liars and cheats.’

‘And some heartbroken ones to show her despair and self-loathing and how it’s all his fault she’s a steaming mess.’

‘Yes, and then some “I’m over you” songs in case he’s there watching. Some real “fuck you” type angry woman anthems.’

I stare wide-eyed at them.

‘And then finish with something that says, “I don’t need you – I’ve moved on – you’re history, you piece of shit – I hope you rot in hell.”’

‘That’s quite the journey,’ I say worriedly. I just haven’t got the strength to argue or think straight.

As they charge upstairs, Tash yells, ‘Hoargghhhay can pick us up in an hour. Let’s get to it. Bring on the Girl Power. Connie, eyebrows! Make them strong tonight, love.’

I dash back to the cottage and throw myself into the shower to wash the smell of Matteo from my body.I am a bit tipsy so it’sperfectly acceptable to completely overreact,I tell myself. I am going to look stunning tonight and not like some easy fool taken for a ride by the first handsome prince to come along.

Well, he turned out to be quite the frog, didn’t he?

No wonder he was so mysterious this whole time, stringing me along so I wouldn’t catch him out on social media. I step out of the bathroom in my robe, and with shaking hands video-call Liam and Ged to let them know the sad news.

‘Connie! What’s wrong?’ Liam says, loosening his spiked dog collar with a saddened expression. I’m interrupting their PVC night. Although to be fair, they’ve started early. The last Friday of every month, while I’m at the gym, they spend the evening in bun-less chaps, spanking each other.

‘It’s Matteo. It’s all… it’s all off,’ I choke. I see the pair of them have no idea what to do with this new information. I give them a moment to process.

‘You literally called us a few hours ago ready to Say Yes to the Dress to him and now you’re calling it off?’ says Ged. ‘But you’re both cosmically entwined. You said you were the yin to his yang. Two lost souls?—’

‘You said you held the key to his lock,’ Liam butts in.

I do wish they weren’t such good listeners at times.

‘He’s supposed to be marrying someone else this weekend and conveniently forgot to tell me,’ I say, wringing out yet more fresh tears.

They gasp.

‘The cave was no magical coincidence. It was cleverly orchestrated. He must have known Nacho had invited me! They’re brothers for eff’s sake and he never told me.’

They gasp again.

‘And the bar in Benidorm. He knew I was in Zara. All he had to do was hang around outside, easily hidden in the crowd, and then he could follow me to Tiki Beach.’

‘It’s like an episode ofVera, isn’t it?’ says Ged.

‘Yes, but involving a hot Spanish love throuple,’ Liam says, waving his multi-pronged leather whip around. ‘Surely there’s been some mistake. There must have been a reason why he didn’t tell you. Has he called?’

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