The Road Trip(37)

‘Luke is sulking,’ Javier informs me.

‘Connie, stop it,’ I say, swatting at her.

She’s picking something out of my hair; she shows me what’s in her hand, and it’s a large dead bug. I make a face. I’m not entirely sure what we all got up to last night.

‘Luke, I’m sorry, I just . . .’ Wanted to do my own thing for a while. Wanted some time to be me. Wanted Addie. ‘I don’t know, really,’ I finish weakly.

Luke’s eyebrows stay high, but Javier tugs on his arm, and he lets it go with a sigh. My brother has my dad’s looks: he’s all broad and stern, his hair a tone lighter than mine and cropped short.

‘Dad’s furious about this, you know,’ Luke says.

‘So that’s some consolation,’ I say, and his grin matches mine.

‘And you.’ I turn on Grace. ‘Where have you been?’

She throws her head back to laugh. Her hair is dyed blue, and she’s dressed like she’s stepped right out of the 1960s: psychedelically patterned dress, white sandals that tie up the leg, and one of those headbands that instantly makes you look slightly stoned. It’s a testament to how beautiful she is that she does not look utterly ridiculous. Instead, as always, she’s iconic; Grace has this air of drama to her, all long languid limbs and glamour, like a starlet on the brink of her big break.

‘Ah, sweet Dylan,’ she says, offering a hand to help me out of the human pile-up beneath which I am currently attempting to handle this hangover. ‘Marc told me you got bored of chasing me.’ She flashes me a wicked smile. ‘I simply had to see this other woman for myself.’

‘Here she is!’ Cherry shouts from the doorway.

They all turn at once to look at Addie. She’s wearing a cropped sports top and shorts, ready for the hike Cherry has promised; her dark hair is pulled back, showing off the delicate curves of her cheekbones, and beside Cherry she looks tinier than ever. I watch her shrink under the force of the combined attention of Luke, Javier, Marcus, Grace, Connie and Marta.

Grace moves first. She reaches out and takes both of Addie’s hands, spreading their arms wide, holding Addie back so she can look at her properly.

‘Grace,’ she says. ‘Enchantée. I can see precisely why you’ve got my boys all a-flutter – you’re absolutely fascinating; I can tell just by looking at you. Would you mind ever so if I wrote you down?’

I close my eyes for a moment.

‘Pardon?’ Addie says in a small voice.

‘Oh, I’m writing a book,’ Grace says expansively. ‘It’s all about this time in our lives, when we’re just swirling through life, finding ourselves, getting lost, getting high . . . It’s terribly pretentious, as all coming-of-age stories are, really, but I can’t seem to help myself.’ She throws her head back for another long, leisurely laugh. ‘That ought to be the title: I Can’t Seem to Help Myself, by Grace Percy.’

‘Grace,’ Marcus says, and he hooks a finger through the belt loop on her dress and tugs her back towards the rest of us. ‘You’re terrifying her.’

‘Oh, am I?’ she says earnestly to Addie. ‘I’m sorry. I just can’t ever be bothered with small talk – we’re clearly going to be friends, I thought we might as well launch in. Did I terrify you? Do tell me, Connie says I need to be told or I’ll never improve, don’t you, Connie, darling?’

Addie pulls herself up, half laughing – it’s hard not to laugh when Grace is in full flow. ‘You didn’t terrify me at all,’ she says. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. All of you.’

‘Dylan?’

It’s Uncle Terry. He marches into the room in his swim shorts, hairy belly overhanging the elasticated waist, then comes to a sudden stop. He looks at everyone in turn, finally settling his gaze on me.

‘Dylan, my boy,’ he says, ‘are you aware that you have a rather large penis drawn on your forehead?’





Addie

OK. OK. I’ve got this.

I’m shaking a little. I’m sure Marcus clocks it as I help Marta pour out the first round of the champagne one of them turned up here with.

Meeting Dylan’s brother, his brother’s partner, Dylan’s housemates, and Grace, all at once? It’s a lot.

I’ve texted Deb asking her to come back. I need back-up. Thank God Cherry is here, at least. She shoots me a reassuring smile across the kitchen and I feel a little better.

‘Here, let me help you take those outside,’ says Luke.

You have to look hard to see the resemblance between Dylan and his brother. Luke is bulkier and looks like the sort of guy who’d play rugby and call it ‘ruggers’. But when he smiles his face changes completely. He falls into step beside me as we each take two glasses through to the lunch table set up on the terrace. I thought I’d have to go to the Intermarché again to stock up, but it turns out Grace went on her way here. The table’s now laden with cheeses and olives and fresh bread.

Grace isn’t at all what I expected. She seems very genuine to me, which is kind of surprising in a woman who dyes her hair blue and says enchantée without irony. She’s currently sunning by the pool and looking totally gorgeous beside the pasty form of Uncle Terry. I should feel threatened, probably, but Grace just . . . hasn’t really let me.