‘Seriously, no…Where do you get off talking to people like that? This is supposed to be a party, we’re all just having fun,’ I say, stepping in.
‘Calm down Temu Pedro Pascal,’ Cowboy Hat jokes.
I try not to laugh at that, but Chloe storms up to Crochet-Sarong girl and fronts up to her. ‘Please explain to me why and how you are such a little bitch. Seriously?’
Zara doesn’t need an excuse to join in. ‘“Grandma”? Come here you little twat. Piss off back to your sandbox.’
Jess is right behind Zara, every sinew in her body is tense and ready to take this all on.
What on earth was in those bottles? Where the hell is Miguel?The insults start to fly and I look between both groups of women, unsure what to do.Do I play peacemaker?This scene feels vaguely reminiscent of a time when I was growing up and Norah and Flo had a wild fight over nail polish. But before I can make a decision about my role here, someone throws some sand and it all kicks off. Zara pushes Crochet-Sarong, Jess charges at Cowboy Hat who goes flying, someone else in a gold mini dress is kicking Chloe and she grabs at handfuls of her hair.
‘I’ll show you Grandma, you skinny twunt,’ Zara yells. ‘Stuck up little princess, this is how we grown-ups do it.’
I hold Zara back, arms flying, but there’s only one of me. I don’t have enough arms.
‘Please! Ladies! Can we calm it down a bit?’ I beg. I try and control the chaos over the insults and the sandstorm that they are brewing up underneath them. People stop to look, cheer and take videos.Shit. I might like a copy of that video though. Mainly for Phoebe.Yeah, we didn’t mention this in your retreat flyer, eh?
17
CHLOE
I can taste Christmas Day in my mouth. This strange combination of herbs, cinnamon and citrus zest swishing around in my saliva like I’ve just snogged a Christmas ham.Why am I floating?I feel like I’m floating but then I feel the grasp of someone’s hand under my knees, another hand around my back and shoulders, and I realise I’m being carried.To where?Panic consumes me for a second. I let my guard down. The bottles of that herby liqueur were spiked.This is when it all goes wrong. I want to fight whoever is carrying me but I have zero physical strength in any part of me.Are we still on the beach because I can feel the pulse of a beat strongly inside my head. Or is that just a banging headache?Strangely, I can also feel some sand in my butt crack. It is deeply uncomfortable.
‘Mind her head! Mind her head!’ I hear a deep Spanish accent. That sounds like Miguel. He is the one who gave us the liqueur, he is the criminal mastermind in all of this. ‘We don’t want to give her concussion too!’
‘I’m trying to protect her modesty. Her dress is very short.’
That’s Ben. Ben is carrying me. I open my eyes for a moment to check where we are and I recognise the stone walls of the villa, the old stained-glass lampshades of the upstairs corridor. I hear him kick something, a door? He goes in and well, there’s no way of making this sound dignified, he kind of rolls me on to the bed in the way a person would unroll a carpet. I feel myself spin out of his arms and I groan a little at the motion.
‘Grab the bin in case she throws up again,’ Ben tells Miguel.
Oh no, I threw up? Where?It might be why my stomach is making the same sound as some pipes in an old house but it also explains the taste in my mouth. I am mortified that I’ve made a fool of myself in front of everyone. Ben lifts my head and positions a pillow under it.
‘Tell me what was in that liqueur again?’ Ben asks Miguel as they stand over me.
‘It is an Ibizan speciality, a digestif. My friend José brews it himself. All natural,’ Miguel explains. ‘Benji, it’s not like he puts an ingredients list on the bottle.’
‘Is there marijuana in it?’ Ben asks.
‘Who knows? I taste fennel myself. She drank a lot,’ Miguel tells him.
‘How many bottles?’
Miguel doesn’t reply. I don’t think I know myself. All I know is that this bed is soft, so soft. I am thirsty. I think I’ve also hurt my knees. But I also hear splashing.Wait, are we still near the sea?
‘Balls, Miguel – that’ll be Zara and Jess bombing it into the pool. Please go and make sure they’re OK. They’re so drunk. Hydrate them, get them to bed,’ Ben says.
‘Yes, boss!’ Miguel says jokingly.
‘You’re not funny.’
The shutters close and I feel the whir of a fan against my skin.
‘Did you have fun? I think you had fun. I saw you dancing, it was good, no?’ Miguel asks Ben.
He doesn’t reply. I hear their footsteps padding away.I had fun, I want to say. My memories of the evening are slowly collating but I don’t remember ever dancing like that before. Wildly. There was something feral and freeing about it all. I don’t quite know what to do now I’m lying here on my own. I should get comfortable, rinse out my mouth. But my room door opens again, and I part my very parched lips, opening my eyes to see a very blurry Ben standing over me.
‘Ben…’ I mumble.
