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.
‘You doing OK?’ Luke says, looking at me sideways.
‘Yes! Yeah,’ I say, swallowing. ‘Just . . .’
‘It’s a lot,’ he says. ‘This is classic Marcus. Of course he didn’t bother warning you and Dyl that he’d invited us all.’ He rolls his eyes affectionately as we set the glasses down. ‘He’s acting out – he’s probably pissed Dylan’s preoccupied with someone other than him, for once. I’ve never seen Dylan look at any woman the way he looks at you. I think you’re going to be really good for him, you know. He needs someone to ground him. Like I ground Javier.’
I smile at his expression when he mentions his boyfriend. ‘Javier seems great,’ I say, straightening the knives and forks. Habit, I guess. It’s a bit weird being here as Dylan’s . . . whatever-I-am, as well as the villa’s caretaker.
‘He is. I want that for Dyl. And for Marcus,’ he adds. ‘Of course.’
‘Dylan said you and him were friends with Marcus when you were kids?’
‘Mm. We sort of adopted Marcus, really. Or he adopted us, maybe. Never been big on functional families, this group,’ he says, indicating the collection of beautiful people sprawled around Terry, by the pool, ‘and me, Dyl and Marcus are no different. You make your own family, don’t you?’
I think of my family. My dad, solid and reliable. My mum, always quietly one step ahead. Deb, whose last text to me read You need me, I’m there.
‘Stop hogging the new girl, Luke!’ Marcus calls across the terrace at us. ‘Addie, come on, I want to show you something.’
I hesitate for a moment. Marcus is stood on the steps down to the courtyard. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail now, and with the drawn-on eyepatch and goatee he should look ridiculous, but it’s actually all quite . . . I don’t know, villainous.
‘He’s not all bad, you know,’ Luke says beside me. ‘There’s a good guy in there somewhere. He’s just got a bit lost.’
I make a dubious face. Luke laughs.
‘Though by all means, tell him no. He doesn’t hear it very often. Might be good for him.’
After another moment’s pause, I roll my eyes slightly. ‘Oh, go on, I’ll humour him.’
I leave Luke at the table and head over towards Marcus. He trots off before I’ve caught him up, leading me down the lawn to the scrubby area near the villa’s boundary. He stops so suddenly I nearly pile into him, and have to put a hand on his shoulder to steady myself.
‘Shh,’ he says, beckoning me to stand next to him. ‘Look.’