Revelry. Lucy Lord

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СКАЧАТЬ says Skinny Alison, ‘you will think about it, won’t you? I don’t want to have to worry about getting your dress altered, when there’s so much more to think about for my big day.’

      ‘Jesus, Al, give it a rest, won’t you?’ says Andy sharply. ‘Get off me, please. I’m going for a walk.’

      ‘Wha …?’

      I catch Poppy’s eye and try not to snigger at the look on Alison’s face.

      ‘I’ll be back in ten minutes, just need to clear my head,’ he says, lighting a fag and striding off towards the harbour, his long legs in their old Levis covering ground quickly. He looks rather dashing, and he’s certainly gone up in my estimation for standing up to his witch of a fiancée.

      Ben comes over with one of the French girls. ‘Hey guys, this is Veronique. She’s never been to Manumission before so I suggested she comes with us. Her mates want to go to El Divino.’

      ‘Hi Veronique,’ we chorus, as I consider how much less attractive Veronica sounds in English.

      If you didn’t know Veronique’s nationality, French would be your first guess. Her long dark brown hair is dead straight, with a choppy eyelash-skimming fringe. Though her dark almond eyes are thick with kohl and mascara, she doesn’t appear to be wearing any other make-up, her clear olive skin and pillowy lips needing little enhancement. Stick thin in skinny black jeans and braless in a black vest with a couple of studded belts encircling her narrow hips, she is the picture of rock-chick insouciance.

      Ben has certainly upped his game here, I think dispassionately, wondering how Kim will react now and rather hoping for Dad that she doesn’t immediately switch allegiance back. Then my father, as tends to be his wont, surprises me. Gently pushing Kimbo off his lap, he rises gallantly to his feet and kisses Veronique’s hand, murmuring, ‘Enchanté, mademoiselle,’ before launching into fluent French. Within seconds the sulky pout has been replaced by a delighted, slightly gappy smile. To give him his due, Ben laughs good-naturedly and tries to join in the conversation in schoolboy French.

      ‘What are they saying, what are they saying?’ asks Kim, as Ben looks over in her direction and says something, laughing. Dad puts his arm around her waist and says, ‘Veronique was saying you look like a model. We were just telling her how right she is.’

      By the look on Veronique’s face, it wasn’t a compliment, but it is so beyond Kim’s intellectual capabilities to consider that some people might not be impressed by her profession that she is temporarily mollified and preens herself unnecessarily.

      ‘And what do you do, babe?’ she asks Veronique, launching back into faux-sincere mode.

      ‘I sing. I write. I paint,’ breathes the Frog in a seriously sexy accent. ‘I was – ’ow you say? – discoverrrred by a model agency – during my Baccalaureate. But I told zem no – I am an artiste.’

      Mark gives me a squeeze and whispers gleefully in my ear, ‘This is awesome. I fucking hope it turns into a bitch fight. Couple of hot babes too.’

      I laugh and whisper back, ‘Who do you think would win? The Frog looks pretty scary, but I reckon Kim’s as tough as old boots.’

      ‘Difficult call.’

      ‘Yeah, well …’ says Kim. ‘You probably did the right thing, babe. It’s only a few short girls who ever really make it. In fact, I can only think of Kate Moss. And I’m sure you’d agree you’re hardly in her league.’ She looks around at us all and laughs gaily.

      ‘Pouf, whatever …’ shrugs Veronique, lighting a fag and turning her back on Kim. ‘Ben, chéri, you said somezing about a drink? Vin rouge, s’il te plaît.’

      ‘I’ll get it,’ says my father, taking Kim by the hand. ‘Why don’t you come with me, Kimberly?’ And he leads her through the heaving crowds towards the bar.

      With Kimbo out of the picture, we all relax for a bit.

      ‘No disrespect, mate,’ says Damian to Ben. ‘But where the fuck did you find her?’ Then, as Veronique raises her eyebrows, ‘Not you, darling – the other one.’ Poppy rolls her eyes and stage-whispers to me: ‘Lord Tact of Tactville strikes again.’ I giggle and whisper back, ‘This is hilarious.’

      Poppy looks at me curiously. ‘So you’re feeling better about everything now?’

      ‘Oh yes, water off a duck’s back.’ I wave my hand about airily.

      ‘Ow,’ complains Mark as I bash him in the nose, at which Poppy and I laugh so much that I nearly fall off his lap. The various intoxicants have made us awfully silly, I am nearly coherent enough to reflect.

      Andy returns from his strop.

      ‘Right, when are we off to Manumission?’ he asks, looking at me and Poppy.

      ‘Oh God, not for another hour or so at least,’ says Poppy. ‘Anyway, Damian needs to go and score first, don’t you sweetheart?’

      ‘Too right I do,’ says Damian, getting to his feet. ‘In fact, no time like the present. Anyone else fancy a walk?’

      ‘I’ll come,’ says Andy, surprising us all.

      ‘Actually, darling,’ says Skinny Alison, ‘I think I’d rather have an early night. I need to get up early to try and get hold of that incompetent bloody seamstress in the morning.’

      ‘OK darling, go ahead. I fancy a night out.’Skinny Alison’s features droop, and I almost feel sorry for her, but it soon passes as she bullies Plump Alison and Charlie, who were clearly also looking forward to a night out, into escorting her back to the villa.

      Multicoloured lights flash through the darkness, the sweat of 20,000 revellers fills the air and the insistent beat of electro house pumps through our veins. Nazi officers, sexy nurses and PVC-clad beauties mingle with only slightly less exotically dressed clubbers. A naked couple is almost shagging on stage – they put a stop to the live sex shows a few years ago, but the simulation is pretty realistic. Dwarfs fondle girls in stockings and suspenders carrying whips. Nice work if you can get it, I suppose, if you’re a dwarf.

      The popularity of Manumission is staggering. Queuing time for your average Joe is generally a couple of hours, but we managed to blag our way to the front of the guest list queue in ten minutes. This was not, as you might expect, due to the extreme beauty of Kim, or Ben, or even Poppy; people are used to extreme beauty here. No, we managed to swan past a whole load of satisfactorily put-out models entirely thanks to my father’s longstanding notoriety in the Balearics.

      ‘You’ve got to hand it to him, Bella, he’s a groovy old bugger,’ were Poppy’s words, as my heart swelled with a weird kind of pride.

      Now we’re all on the dance floor, vaguely paired up – me with Mark, Damian with Poppy, Dad with Kim, Ben with Veronique and Andy kind of hovering on the sidelines. He’s a good dancer, I notice.

      Mark puts his arms around me and starts gyrating unnecessarily, grinding his pelvis into mine. As any inhibitions I might once have had disappeared hours ago, I’m finding this mightily enjoyable and looking forward to what I’m assuming will be the logical conclusion to tonight. I close my eyes and let the sensations wash over me. Suddenly they stop and I open my eyes. Mark is looking СКАЧАТЬ