‘Oh, yes, sorry… it’s lovely.’
He doesn’t look convinced.
‘Is everything okay with the drink?’ Freddie asks.
I laugh.
‘It’s just… it’s not as good as the one you made me,’ I admit.
‘It’s nice to know I still have it,’ he replies proudly, but then his face falls.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
He gestures to our left with a dart of his eyes. I look and see Daniel and Eva being seated next to us. Oh, wonderful! I wonder what the chances are, but these tables are the luxury tables, reserved for luxury villa guests. I can’t believe he’s here, with her, using money that was supposed to be a gift for both of us. I can’t believe he kept the money; it should be returned, like all the other gifts.
While Eva seems quite preoccupied, trying to see through Freddie’s shirt through willpower alone, Daniel stares daggers at us.
I notice Freddie waving at them and realise it’s in response to Eva, who seems to think she’s on waving terms with him now.
‘I don’t know what else to do,’ he tells me through gritted teeth.
‘It’s fine,’ I say quietly. ‘Let’s not let them ruin dinner.’
‘Nothing is going to ruin my calzone,’ he replies. ‘It feels good, to take a break from clean eating.’
I quickly glance over at them but they’re no longer looking over, they’re looking at the menu and laughing together, something so simple, but it makes me so jealous.
‘Hey,’ Freddie says, trying to take my attention away from them. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m… fine.’
I don’t sound remotely fine; you can hear it in my voice. I can’t hide it.
‘Hey, can I get a porn star martini, please?’ Freddie asks the waiter.
I give him a puzzled smile.
‘Everything is going to be okay,’ he tells me as he reaches out to hold my hand. As Freddie caresses my hand with his, I feel a shiver of something run up my arm and down through my body, but then I realise he’s doing it for Daniel and Eva’s benefit – for the sake of my showmance – so I quickly nip my excitement in the bud.
‘Thank you,’ I mouth to him.
‘I promise you, you are going to have an incredible holiday, no matter what,’ he insists.
I smile.
‘I hope so.’
The waiter places Freddie’s cocktail down in front of him. He picks up the shot glass of champagne.
‘Grab yours,’ he says.
‘My drink?’
‘Yeah, we’re toasting,’ he replies. ‘That’s what you said you do, right? With your free mini drink.’
‘Oh, God, that is what I said, isn’t it?’ I reply with an awkward laugh.
‘You did, so come on,’ he insists, raising his glass.
I do as he says.
‘What are we toasting?’
‘To us,’ he says. ‘And our honeymoon period.’
‘To our honeymoon period,’ I say.
I can feel my smile stretching so wide across my face, I’m worried it’s going to run out of space. As Freddie rubs my hand I can feel my cheeks growing warmer – I hope it doesn’t show.
I just need to remind myself that he’s acting… and he’s doing a great job too, because I’ve never seen Daniel look more jealous.
17
Day 7
I have woken up in a remarkably good mood, which is not something I anticipated, given that I’m on my honeymoon without a husband and with my ex and his new bird in the room next door.
Last night Freddie and I finished our meal and left the restaurant as soon as possible. We had a one-course lead on Daniel and Eva, which meant we could get out of there before they did.
We enjoyed a nice slow walk back up to the villa, stopping at the viewing point halfway up the hill to take in the view. It doesn’t matter what time of day it is, or what the weather is like, this place is always gorgeous, no matter which direction you’re looking in.
As we got to our front doors my mood slipped a little, the thought of going inside alone and knowing Daniel and Eva would be coming back together weighing heavy on my mind. Freddie couldn’t have been cuter though, doing a bit about getting me home before my curfew my parents set, and saying he’d better not kiss me, in case my dad was watching. It was the perfect (not real) end to a perfect (not real) date.
It was nice, walking with Freddie, getting to know more about him – more than you’d find out by watching his Jimmy Kimmel interview. OK, yes, I did look up a few of his interviews after I got home last night, just because I was curious and because I could.
I have to say, TV Freddie and real Freddie are pretty much the same person. Even when he’s doing an interview, with adoring fans in the audience and a famous interviewer asking him about his massive success, he’s still so down to earth. It’s almost as if he doesn’t know how to be a movie star yet, as if he missed the memo that says he’s supposed to be an arsehole – a designer-clothes-wearing, model-shagging, egotistical arsehole.
So when I heard Daniel and Eva arrive home last night, I kept myself distracted with videos of Freddie for a while, and after hearing him talk about the Edge of Eden movie, I’m really tempted to watch it. Visually Freddie might look the part, but I can’t imagine someone so sweet and a little shy playing the role of an S&M-loving playboy lawyer.
This morning I’m sitting outside on my terrace, catching some rays in my bikini. It’s still early, so it’s not all that hot and sunny yet, but I’m making the most of my alone time on the terrace.
I worked so hard, to look good in my wedding dress – and my honeymoon bikini – but it still doesn’t feel like enough. Of course, as women, we’re under a lot of pressure from Instagram and magazines, but I think most of the pressure comes from ourselves and this belief we have that we need to look a certain way. When was the last time you looked at a woman at the beach and thought to yourself: damn, she’d look perfect, if she just lost 6 lbs? No, me neither.
I suspect I don’t need to lose weight, I need to gain confidence, but it’s not always that simple, is it?
I just love the way it smells here, but I can’t quite describe what it smells like. I feel as if, no matter where I am, even if I’m in one of the bars, it smells like outside, like a mixture of the ocean and the trees. I wish I could bottle it up and take it home with me, although I’ll bet it would only give me the post-holiday blues every time I caught a whiff.
The sound of the phone ringing inside catches my attention – not my phone though, the suite phone. It’s the first time I’ve heard it ring, so I hurry inside and answer it with caution.
‘Hello?’
‘Buongiorno, signora,’ a man’s voice says. ‘This is Lorenzo, calling from the hotel. Just to say, you have a visitor here.’
My face tightens with confusion.
‘A visitor?’
‘Sì, a visitor.’
‘Erm, okay, I’ll be right there…’
How on earth do I have a visitor? I am in Italy… on an island!
I grab a black maxi dress and hurry it on over my bikini, before making my way down the hill to the hotel. Fuelled by curiosity, for the first time, I don’t waste any time taking in the view as I usually would.
Could this be Daniel’s weird way of getting to me, on my own, so that we can talk? Normally, I wouldn’t think he would be so sneaky, but it turns out he has this sneaky side I’ve never been aware of.
There’s no sign of Daniel inside the busy hotel lobby, but as I scan the room I do notice a familiar face, although, if I’m being completely honest, it isn’t the face I notice first…
‘Hola,’ Ali screams at the top of her voice as soon as she claps eyes on me.
She’s wearing a gold one-piece, although to call it a one-piece seems generous, it’s maybe a third of a one-piece, thanks to the fact it has more cut-outs than a paper snowflake. Her bottom half is covered by a pair of black harem pants – I’d imagine (or at least
really, really hope) that she had some kind of top on for the journey, which she whipped off the second she arrived.
As Ali hurries over to me, dragging her suitcase along behind her, she turns the head of every man in the room. A sixty-something man has an especially good gawp at her chest – the best fake boobs the Czech Republic has to offer she told me, after arriving home from holiday with them one day. Well, all she told me was that she was going on holiday – she neglected to mention that it was a cosmetic surgery holiday.
‘All right, granddad, pick your jaw up off the floor,’ she says to him as she struts past him.
‘Ali,’ I say, a combination of shocked, confused and delighted – the exact combination of feelings she gives her dates.
‘Hola, Lila,’ she says as she squeezes me.
‘Ali, you’re in Italy, not Spain,’ I remind her. ‘Oh, my God, you’re in Italy – why are you in Italy?’
‘I came to see you,’ she says. ‘Duh!’
‘You pop to someone’s house to see them, not their holiday.’ I laugh. ‘Not that I’m not over the moon to see you.’
‘Well, when you said Daniel had shown up, I thought you might need some moral support. I cleared my diary, booked a flight and here I am.’
‘Is that new?’ I ask about her swimsuit.
‘The twins need support too,’ she says.
I don’t think I’ve seen her sunglasses before either, now that I come to think of it.
‘Did you really come all this way just because you were worried about me, with Daniel being around?’
‘Of course,’ she replies. ‘And I blew off my date with the department-store heir – I should be twisted up like a pretzel, having my forty-fifth orgasm, and instead I’m here, looking out for you.’
I give her a look – a look deep into her soul.
‘And, well, he was minging, and a holiday sounded nice. A holiday with my best friend!’
She hugs me again.
‘Come on, let me show you the villa,’ I say.
Ali dances on the spot excitedly. It’s a miracle her breasts stay in her swimsuit – well, I think it’s a miracle they stay in. The men in the lobby think it’s a crying shame.
I’m excited to have my best friend here with me. Ali knows me inside and out, and she knows exactly what I’ve been through with Daniel, so she’ll know what I’m thinking and feeling before I do. She’s the shoulder I’ve needed to cry on for days, although I suppose I’ve stopped crying now.
I can’t wait to show her the villa and the pool, and everything else the island has to offer. Now that she’s here, I wish I’d just invited her from the start, although I’m sure she would’ve been gutted, to miss out on embarrassing Daniel on his wedding day.
‘I’m not loving huffing and puffing up this hill,’ Ali pants. ‘This cozzie is going right up my arse.’
‘It’s a lovely walk,’ I tell her. ‘It’s just easier in flats.’
‘Never met a flat I liked,’ she tells me, as if I don’t already know. ‘Oh, this is cute.’
She pauses to catch her breath and admire the archways.
‘It must be nice, to be here with someone you love.’
‘Are you saying you don’t love me, bitch?’ she jokes.
‘I love you more than anyone,’ I tell her.
‘Ciao,’ a male voice says, snapping us from our conversation.
I jump out of my skin. This is the first time I’ve crossed paths with anyone on this path.
‘Oh, hello,’ I say.
‘Ciao,’ he says again, but he’s only looking at Ali. I’m used to this though – Ali commands the attention of men wherever she goes.
Ali smiles, but doesn’t say anything. This is a strategic move that never fails her. Men want her anyway, but they want her even more if she acts as if she isn’t interested.
The man is tall with olive skin – he’s definitely Italian. His glossy jet-black hair is slicked back, and he’s wearing a black shirt, which is a telltale sign that he works here. There is something undeniably attractive about the Italian accent. He could be saying anything and I’d be swooning – even just repeatedly saying ‘ciao’ with his jaw on the floor as he gawps at my friend.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, to try and move things along.
‘Sì,’ he says. ‘I deliver champagne to one of the other couples.’
Ergh, that will be Daniel and Eva – wait, does he think that Ali and I are a couple?
‘Oh—ʼ I start, but Ali doesn’t let me finish.
‘Lovely,’ she says. ‘We might have to do the same, right, babes?’
Is she talking to me?
‘Erm, right,’ I say.
The man, a bizarre combination of dejected and excited, heads back down the hill in his cart.
‘Did you just make out like we were a couple?’ I ask her.
‘Yeah,’ she replies casually. ‘He works here. I’m not gonna shag someone who works here.’
‘Newsflash, babe,’ I start mockingly. ‘This is Valentine Island. The clue is in the title: everyone is already in love. So when you’re climbing the walls in a couple of days, you won’t be so fussy.’
‘I’ll be fine, so long as you still have Barry.’
‘Barry?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, you know, the stowaway in your suitcase…’
She wiggles her eyebrows.
‘Oh, God, that thing? I threw it in the sea.’
‘You threw it in the sea?’
‘Well, no, I didn’t throw it in the sea – I was worried a dolphin might choke on it.’
‘Not if it knows what it’s doing,’ she jokes.
‘Oi, come on,’ I say, laughing as I take her by the hand and drag her the last bit of the way to the villa.
I watch as she looks back at the hotel employee – who is absolutely staring at her arse. She gives him a seductive little wave over her shoulder. Ali is truly a master. I could learn so much from her, were it not for my complete lack of confidence.
‘Oh, wow,’ she says as she claps eyes on the villa. ‘This place is the shit.’
‘It is,’ I reply with a laugh. I can’t believe how delighted I am to have her here. I feel like a scared little kid whose cool older sister has just shown up to show me how to do my eyeliner and to scare away the bullies. ‘I should probably tell you, Daniel and Eva are staying in the suite next door.’
‘Of course, they are,’ she replies. ‘I dare them to come out while I’m here. So, show me where I’m sleeping.’
I absolutely love that she’s just turned up to stay with me. It speaks volumes about our relationship, that she feels as if she can – and that I’m delighted to have her here.
‘There’s a king bed upstairs and a really big, really comfortable sofa down here,’ I reply.
‘I’ll take the sofa,’ she says, eyeing it up. ‘Just in case I pull, I don’t have to wake you up.’
‘Ahh, just like old times, when we swapped bedrooms in our flat so yours was nearer the front door and the bathroom.’
I say this with a real nostalgic tone, but at the time, it was a nightmare. I liked a wild night out as much as the best of them, but not like Ali. Ali is always on it, 24/7. I liked an early night every now and then, and her entrances with her friends or her gentleman friends were very noisy and always in the a.m. The straw that broke the camel’s back came when she only just made it through the front door before pouncing on her date in the hallway, right outside my bedroom door. The other bedroom was on the other side of the kitchen, so we swapped. At the very least, it lessened the sound effects.
‘So, we need to go shopping,’ she says. ‘We need crisps, and lemon pop, and some alcohol and, oh, some Nutella. And we can just chill by the pool and chat, and I fucking dare Daniel and Eva to come outside.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ I reply. ‘There are plenty of shops so, if you want to put some pants on, we could take a stroll down?’
‘Back down the hill?’
‘Yes.�
��
‘Only to come back up?’ she whines.
‘That’s how hills work.’
‘Okay, fine, but I’m fine like this, right? We’re on holiday – I don’t need pants.’
‘You don’t always think you need pants in London,’ I tease.
There’s a knock at the door.
‘If that’s the stare-y guy from before, tell him I’m not interested,’ she says.
‘Aren’t you? He was handsome.’
‘I’m low-key interested in a way that he doesn’t need to know about yet,’ she replies.
‘Got it.’
I open the door, ready to give one of my speeches to one of Ali’s rejected lovers – sometimes I’ll take the kind route of ‘it’s not you, it’s her’, other times I’ll get a little creative, saying that Ali has moved abroad to work for charity or they’re sending her into space to see if she can communicate with aliens. If I’m feeling especially uncreative, but want something effective, I’ll tell people she’s at the gynaecologist’s.
‘Oh,’ I say, when I open the door. It isn’t one of Ali’s admirers (although it probably will be, because it’s a male), it’s one of my fake ones.
‘Well, that’s not the reaction I expected.’ Freddie laughs.
‘Sorry, hello,’ I say. ‘I completely forgot we were meeting today.’
‘Holy… fucking… shit,’ I hear Ali say behind me.
‘Good morning to you too,’ Freddie says cheekily, waving at her.
‘Ho-o-o-o-oly, fucking…’
‘For future reference, this is how people usually react to meeting me,’ Freddie leans in and tells me quietly. ‘Not ask me to make them a drink.’
‘Har-har,’ I reply. ‘Freddie, this is Ali. Ali, this is—’
‘Edward Eden,’ she says with a gasp.
‘Only on the weekends,’ he jokes as he offers Ali a hand to shake. Instead, Ali rushes over to him and hugs him, as if she knows him intimately.
‘Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself to your movie?’
Oh, she does know him intimately.
‘I understand why you’re hiding on an island now,’ I tell him.
He just laughs. I’m guessing he’s used to this.
Honeymoon For One Page 11
