I’m only wearing my boxers, but that doesn’t stop them all piling into me; I manage to stagger back so that when we fall, we land on a chaise longue in a tangle of limbs. Connie kisses one of my eyes – I think she’s aiming for my forehead; Luke ruffles my hair like Dad used to do when he was in a good mood; Marcus grins down at me, his face no more than an inch from mine. Cherry has given him the artistic treatment too: one of his eyes has been covered with a drawn-on eyepatch, like a pirate, and he is sporting a very detailed goatee.
‘Morning,’ he says. ‘I thought things were getting boring. Didn’t you?’
‘We’re going hiking, Dyl,’ Cherry calls, disappearing out of the bedroom door. ‘I’m getting Addie!’
‘Wait!’ I yell, but she’s already gone, and there are far too many exuberant bodies piled above for me to follow her. ‘Shit,’ I say. ‘Marcus . . .’
‘You didn’t think to tell me you were going on the family holiday solo?’ my brother says, heaving himself off me and settling on the floor, arms loosely braced on his knees. He lifts his eyebrows enquiringly as Javier collapses down beside him, his waist-length hair falling across Luke’s arm as he tips his head on to my brother’s shoulder.
‘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?’