Page 84 of Girls Just Want to Have Sun

Oh God, what turncoats.

‘Maybe you should have explained before we, erm, you know,’ I say weakly, keen to shut them all up and get inside. ‘Because that’s, like, a very fast turnaround in women.’

‘It looks bad, but I can explain. Later, in private.’

I nod. Later in private sounds good. He doesn’t need to know I’ve just spent the best part of three hours weeping over him, all because I’ve leapt to all sorts of unsubstantiated conclusions. For all he knows, I have been engaged in long-term fiscal planning, composing majestic arias or some other useful pursuit that isn’t crying.

‘I hope you weren’t too upset,’ he says gently. ‘Nacho mentioned that you overheard him talking about the wedding.’

Where to start?

I shake my head, flicking the Dollz a warning not to contradict me.

‘No. No, of course not. I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation.’

Big Sue raises an eyebrow at me. Probably remembering how I lay quivering in her arms, soaking her in my tears. ‘Okay, you’ve said your bit, lover boy. We’ve got some business to take care of,’ she barks.

Matteo gives the Dollz one last confused look before walking back inside. We race into Voices behind him to see Alex standing with a scowl at the bar.

‘I told you girls not to be late,’ she says in a sharp tone. ‘I hope you’ve already done a soundcheck because, Connie, I want you on stage in thirty seconds.’ She peers closely at us before sniffing the air. ‘Are you all… pissed?’ she roars in a terrifying manner. She whips out her phone, jabbing away.

‘Who does she think she is?’ says Tash loudly. ‘Although, if I’d just been dumped a couple of months before my wedding by a sexy, hot Latino, I’d probably be fuming too.’

‘She must have run over his dog or something,’ Liberty speculates as we scurry to find seats near the front, and I leap onto the stage and take the microphone from the stand nearby. I nod to Cherry to plug in the playlist, which she scampers over to do. I notice Dan going over to help her, giving me a thumbs up as he does. The place is heaving. I snap into professional mode. Or at least I would if I had a clue what songs I’m about to sing. I best offer some context. Cherry beats me to it, grabbing a spare microphone as she joins me on stage.

‘One, two. Testing one, two.’ She taps loudly on the microphone, causing the audience to stop chattering. We look like a pair of low-rent strippers. ‘So, this collection of songs might make more sense if I explain that they are about a man,’ she says chirpily to the crowd. ‘Who none of you know. He’s definitely not here, is he, pet?’

She pantomime-winks at me, while I purposefully don’t make eye contact with Matteo hovering at the back.

Oh my God.

‘Initially, we thought he was a love cheat which had us all boiling with rage. We were ready to rip his balls off, cover them in hot Tabasco sauce and stuff them down his throat, as you can imagine. Connie here was in absolute bits, weren’t you, love?’

She has certainly captured the attention of every single male in the place. And perhaps not in a good way. She has also forgotten that she is meant to be storytelling.

‘But apparently, it turns out he wasn’t a love cheat after all. And well, anyway, I hope you enjoy this emotional journey with Connie because it’s still very raw, isn’t it, love? Even if none of it actually happened.’

Jesus.

I look despairingly around the room at the perplexed faces and straight into the eyes of Matteo. I hear the opening notes and begin to sing. It’s simply humiliating. Cherry has chosen a nightmarish playlist which I am going to have to brazen out. I avoid staring right at him as I belt out the lyrics of each tune that highlight the tumultuous, short-lived romance we have shared thus far.

Maybe it’s because I’m singing tipsy, but I am on fire and out to impress the fuck out of him to hide my embarrassment at having leapt to conclusions. That’ll teach me. The next forty minutes fly by as I catapult the audience through what could have been a very nasty breakup resulting in assault and a likely wrongful arrest. When I am done and the final song about how meaningless life can be reaches its climax, I hit the notes perfectly to a rousing round of applause. Grown men are wiping at their eyes. Women are nodding with understanding at each other. I am stunned. The girls are going absolutely wild and everyone in the place is screaming for more. As soon as I’m off stage and replaced by the Dollz, I’m accosted by lots of children and an excited Martha.

‘Connie, that was excellent,’ she gushes, turning to Matteo, who has come to stand beside me. ‘It really felt like an emotional rollercoaster ride. The passion. The heartbreak. The bitterness. The despair. It felt totally real. You have a gift. What a performance. It felt like you took us on a journey.’

I can barely look Matteo in the eye as he turns to me with a shocked expression, saying nothing as Martha jabbers on.

‘That song about men always letting us down. If only I could get on stage and publicly humiliate Rody every time he does something wrong. You two newly-weds had a falling out, did you?’

Why is the ground not swallowing me up? Why?

‘Oh, it’s you!’ Martha shouts, recognising Matteo properly, grabbing his hands and shaking them. ‘Thank you so much for saving our Lucie. I can’t bear to think of what would’ve happened if you and your wife hadn’t been there to save her. Let me fetch Rody.’

We watch Martha dash off.

‘We’re married now, are we? I do wish you’d told me sooner.’ Matteo sounds amused. I’m all flustered again.

Brazen it out, Connie. Hold steady.I open my mouth to explain how it’s a funny story, but we are distracted by a loud shriek from behind us.

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