Vicky and Mathilde had made up and everything was back to normal. Vicky and I had had a huge chat on Wednesday while everyone was out, me nursing a hangover, and Vicky on a high because they’d had the most amazing make up sex. Apparently, Vicky and Mathilde had it out over Vicky not trying to learn German and not making enough of an effort with Mathilde’s family. The deeper issue was Vicky not making Mathilde feel seen, heard, and understood enough. She’d told me this, perhaps because I wasn’t as close to them as the others. Maybe I was a safer person for her to open up to? Listening to her talk about what it took to maintain a healthy relationship made me both in awe of them and scared at the prospect of getting back into something like that with someone again.
My ex, Jenni, and I had our share of arguments, both silent and loud, and that I did not miss.
Vicky and Mathilde didn’t bottle anything up, it seemed, which was good. They were fiery and passionate, and not afraid to be vulnerable with each other. Vicky had admitted she often felt inferior to Mathilde, that she wasn’t good enough for her, and that maybe she held back a little because of it. Their frank discussion seemed to have helped anyway because they both seemed lighter.
“Honestly, I’ve never seen you so happy in yourself,” I said to Vicky while washing some lettuce. “It’s lovely.”
“I know, I’ve always had my head up my arse. Mathilde makes me want to be a better person. She makes me want to sit up all night talking about our feelings. The old me would have vomited, yet, here I am, happy as Larry.”
“That is a bit vom inducing,” I replied, smirking.
Vicky held my eye, knowing full well I knew a part of her that would have recoiled at how domesticated she had become. She laughed loudly and slapped my shoulder. “Fucking hell, it so is!”
I shrugged. “Love changes you, clearly.”
Over lunch I didn’t tell anyone about my commentating offer with the BBC when people started talking about what they were going to do when they got home. I couldn’t believe it was already Friday. The holiday had gone by so fast. Tomorrow was the last full day before we would all fly home to the UK on Sunday, and we had plenty of food and wine still to get through. We were going to spend it on the beach and then go out on the town. I didn’t want to think about going home, so I kept quiet as everyone talked.
Rona was going to be producing for the up-and-coming singer Flavia Milan when she got back. Her life sounded so cool.
“I can’t wait to meet her.” Rona twiddled the stem of her wine glass in her fingers. “Underneath all the noise, it’s clear she has real talent.”
“Do you ever hang out with the people you work with?” I asked her from across the table, wishing we were sitting next to each other like we usually did. Nell had sat down where I’d left a spot for Rona.
“Yeah, sometimes. It’s always nice to go for a drink or something after we’ve finished a record.”
“Is it quite an intimate thing, to help someone make music? I imagine you must get to know them quite well.”
“It depends on the artist and on the type of music they make but yes, it can be. They’re often talking about some of the deepest parts of themselves in their lyrics and sometimes it’s like their unconscious or shadow self is coming out. Iget to see that up close. It’s one of the things I love about being a producer.”
The whole table was listening now. Was I too keen to know about Rona’s life? “I love that you really go there with people.”
Rona and I held eyes. It was exhilarating. I only looked away because we were among everyone else and I didn’t want it to be weird. It wasn’t lost on me that the others might have picked up on something between me and Rona, and of course if what Rona had said underneath my window was about me, Bouchra would know too. I wondered what they all thought about it.
“Rona is our dark horse,” Bouchra said, affectionately. “You wouldn’t know the half of what she gets up to.”
“That’s right,” Nell agreed.
“You’re all exaggerating,” Rona replied.
“I’m not,” Nell defended. “Remember that time you stayed up all night reading reams and reams of poetry from one of your stars? And then you made that song that lives rent free in everyone’s minds? Yeah. That.”
“You’re like this hidden emotional support guru for all these pop stars,” Kaira said, thoughtfully.
Rona pulled a sceptical face, looking mildly uncomfortable at all the attention from her friends.
“And what about all those BDSM nights you got into? Can’t forget those,” Vicky said, smirking knowingly.
I was so intrigued by all this.
“Ha ha, very funny, it was just one night, and it was for research, and you know it,” Rona quipped back.
“Research for what?” I asked.
Rona shook her head. “Never mind.”
“She’ll show you later,” Vicky said.
The rest of the table erupted in laughter.
