Always Something There to Remind Me (11 page)

‘Christmas time, mistletoe and wine …’ He looked at me and grinned. ‘Come on, Lyd. Let’s liven the place up a bit.’

‘They’ll throw us out.’

The barman, who had just cleared our plates away, laughed. ‘Look around you, love. We can’t afford to throw out paying customers. If you want to sing along – go for it.’ Of course, we didn’t need any further encouragement; we joined in with everything for the next fifteen minutes. We were halfway through
Rocking around the Christmas Tree
when a familiar voice caused me to fall silent.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t the Karaoke Queen.’

Bob had appeared out of nowhere, and was standing beside our table. He wore an expression that was a cross between a smile and a sneer, as if he couldn’t quite decide how he was going to play out the scene. He glanced at Des and then bent to kiss my cheek. ‘How have you been, Lydia?’

I winced as he made contact. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Over his shoulder, I could see Des looking at me with a question in his eyes.

‘You look well.’ Bob pulled up a stool and sat down with his back half-turned to Des. ‘So what are you doing here? You never used to like going to the pub at lunchtime.’

Des cleared his throat. ‘We’ve just had lunch, actually,’ he said. He must have sensed my discomfort because he reached across the table and took my hand. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, darling?’

Bob frowned. ‘Yes,
darling.
’ His voice dripped sarcasm as he looked at Des and then back at me. ‘Why don’t you introduce us?’

How can he still make me feel so bad? Why can’t I speak?

I looked at Des and squeezed his hand, finding my voice at last. ‘Where are my manners? Honey, this is my ex-husband, Bob.’

Des offered to shake hands, but Bob ignored the gesture, choosing instead to glare angrily at him. I wondered if he was still drinking too much; his eyes were red-rimmed and sort of droopy.

‘And who are you?’ he asked.

‘Desmond Ryan, the luckiest man alive.’ Des moved his stool around next to mine and put an arm around me. ‘Tell me, Bob. How on earth did you manage to let this treasure go?’

Des, you angel!
Bob will hate that; no one’s supposed to say nice things about me. Wait for the put-down …
but it didn’t come.

Bob was obviously out of practice and trying to think of a suitable retort, but he would never be a match for Des who was now gazing into my eyes.

‘Sweetheart, I hate to break this up, but we really should be going. It’s almost three o’clock. We’re meeting the others at half-past.’
The others? That’s good, really good!

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been wondering how we could get away and as if he’d read my mind Des had come up with an excuse.

‘Yes, of course.’ I stood up and put my coat on. Bob sat, still speechless, watching as Des wrapped my red woollen scarf around my neck.

‘Sorry we have to dash, mate, but you know how it is at this time of year; places to go, people to see.’ Des offered his hand once more and this time Bob shook it grudgingly.

‘I’ll give you a call, Lydia,’ Bob said. ‘We should catch up sometime.’

Why would I want to do that? I should have changed my number. I should have left the country.

Then Des had his arm around me again and was ushering me out of the pub and saying to Bob, ‘That’s cool, mate. But give it a few weeks; we’re away until the end of January.’

Once outside, I hugged Des and didn’t let go until I’d stopped shaking.

‘Thank you so much for that. You should have been an actor.’

‘It wasn’t such a difficult role to play, babe.’ He kissed the tip of my nose, and we went home to build a snowman.

Chapter 21: The Night Before Christmas

The office closed at lunchtime on Christmas Eve. Everyone was going out for festive drinks, but I didn’t join them. Instead, I raced home to soak in the bath for an hour and get ready for the Alley Kat gig and the meeting with Josh Greenwood’s agent. I was as nervous as a schoolgirl. I knew I wouldn’t be meeting Josh that night. Angela had explained during a phone call the day before that he never spoke to anyone on gig nights because he needed to focus on his performance.

‘You know what men are like, especially rock stars. He can’t cope with multitasking.’

‘Do you go to all the gigs?’ I wasn’t sure quite what an agent did. I’d never given it much thought.

‘No, I just make the bookings and organise publicity and so forth. This one’s an exception because it’s in my home town. Anyway, we’ll talk tomorrow.’

Trudi arrived at four o’clock to calm me down. At least, that was her story, but I think she just wanted to be involved in some capacity, so she took on the role of wardrobe advisor. I sat on the bed while she explained why I shouldn’t wear the blue trouser suit I’d picked out.

‘It’s too dressy for a rock gig.’

‘But I’m trying to look like a journalist …’

‘From a fanzine, not the
Sunday Times
. You need to go for something more in keeping with the music scene. You know – the rock-chick look.’

‘I’m too old to be a rock chick, and too fat. What do rock hens wear?’

We finally agreed on a black skirt that was above the knees but not quite short enough to be called a mini, with black tights and a close-fitting, V-necked sweater. I pulled on my ankle-length boots and allowed Trudi to hot-brush my hair and do my make-up. I was almost scared to look at myself in the mirror, but when I did, I was satisfied that at least I didn’t look ridiculous. Any lingering doubts I had were dispelled when Des arrived at five-thirty. I’d left the door on the latch so he walked straight in. He stopped in his tracks when I stood up to greet him and just stared at me, saying nothing.

‘What’s up?’ I asked, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Do I look awful?’

‘I’m speechless, Lyd.’ He walked around me. ‘They haven’t invented the words yet for how good you look. Wow!’

Relieved beyond measure, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.

‘You say the sweetest things.’

‘I almost wish we were staying in,’ he said, laughing. ‘We could celebrate Christmas early. Tomorrow’s going to be a dull old day.’

‘Oh, but you’ll be partying with Tess and her cronies, won’t you? I’m sure you’ll have a whale of a time.’ I’d been trying not to think about it, but all my unease was returning.

‘No. I called her today and said I couldn’t make it after all. I’d rather be on my own than join the desperate and dateless club for the day. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to hook up with anyone.’

I couldn’t help smiling. Tess wouldn’t get a chance to latch onto him after all.

It’s now or never; I’ve got to ask him.

‘You could join Trudi and me, you know. Of course, we’re also desperate and dateless …’

‘I was beginning to think you’d never ask.’

‘That’s settled then. We’ll be eating at three-ish.’

Angela had done us proud. We checked in at the box office to collect our tickets and there was an envelope containing two backstage passes and a note with instructions to join her in the green room after the show. We had half an hour before curtain-up, so Des steered me towards the bar. The only seat available was a high bar stool which Des insisted I should take. Those things weren’t designed for a woman of my height in a short skirt and I struggled to get onto it, trying to arrange myself gracefully – never an easy task. Des found it highly amusing.

‘I’ve never seen you so edgy before. You weren’t this nervous before your audition.’

‘It’s the skirt; every time I move, it rides up. I’m showing far too much.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion.’ He winked. ‘Hey, look who’s behind you.’

I swivelled round and gasped as I found myself staring straight into the sexy brown eyes of Josh Greenwood. Well, a life-size cut-out of him I’d failed to notice earlier. I almost fell off the stool but Des caught me. He was laughing and I wanted to be mad at him.

‘That was evil,’ I said.

‘I was doing you a favour,’ he protested. ‘If it’d really been Josh, you could have fallen into his arms instead of mine. I’m sure you wouldn’t be complaining then.’

‘Hmm. There’s a thought.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Ten minutes. Shall we go in?’

Des put his hands on my waist. ‘Jump down then. Pretend I’m Josh if it helps.’ There was something strange in his expression.

‘You’re not just the teeniest bit jealous, are you?’ I couldn’t resist teasing him.

He didn’t meet my eyes. ‘Do I need to be?’ He offered me his arm and we made our way into the auditorium.

The gigs I’d attended as a teenager had been in much bigger venues, where most of the audience would be standing, screaming their heads off. It’s a bit different when your rock gods are pushing sixty and the fans are all middle-aged. The Alley Kat concert was in a ‘proper’ theatre where everyone was seated. The front row was reserved for the press, and that was where Angela had placed us, right in the centre. As we sat down, an usher approached and gave us our complimentary ‘press pack’, which included a souvenir programme and a special edition CD containing preview tracks from the band’s forthcoming album.

‘I feel like a fraud,’ I whispered as I leafed through the glossy programme which was retailing for £10 in the foyer. ‘We’re being treated like real reporters. What if we get found out?’

‘We are real reporters, to all intents and purposes.
Luvsik Memories
is a real website. We have some genuine subscribers and as long as you write up your interview with his Lordship we’re doing exactly what we set out to do.’

The house lights dimmed and the curtain rose. The supporting band played for twenty minutes, failing to captivate the audience with a mediocre performance of a number of songs they classified as ‘Celtic rock’. They left the stage to polite applause. Des took a notepad out of his pocket.

‘What’s that for?’ I asked.

‘Well, one of us should really post a review on the website within the next few days, and I’m guessing that’s going to be me.’

‘You think of everything, you clever thing.’

‘I do my best.’ He smiled and licked the tip of his pencil. ‘You just relax and enjoy the show and I’ll play “music journo”.’

The auditorium was plunged into total darkness and a voice announced:

‘Ladies and gentlemen – Alley Kat!’

The music started and I recognised the opening riff straight away.
It’s All About the Music
had been my favourite song back in the day. As the stage lights came up to reveal the band it was almost like being fifteen again. Josh Greenwood strutted to the front of the stage, took the microphone from its stand and started singing. From somewhere near the back of the auditorium there were a few screams and soon everyone was rocking and clapping to the beat of the old familiar songs of Luvsik Kitten and later the new material produced by Alley Kat
.

Des leaned towards me. ‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked.

‘Are you kidding? It’s amazing.’ I could hardly sit still. ‘Are you?’

‘If you’re happy, I’m happy. Tonight’s for you, babe.’

I turned my attention back to the stage. Josh’s hair was streaked with silver now and he wore it shorter. Gone was the eye make-up, but his eyes still seemed to sparkle from a face whose once boyish prettiness had matured into rugged good looks. Des was right about the music too; the new songs were good; maybe even better than the old ones. I wondered if Josh thought so as well. I made a mental note to ask him at the interview.

All too soon the show came to an end. Des put away his notepad as the house lights came up. He asked for directions to the green room, explaining that we had an appointment, and the house manager checked our passes and pointed us in the right direction.

Angela was waiting for us. ‘Lydia, how nice to meet you. And this is …?’

Des shook her hand warmly. ‘I’m the editor and webmaster of
Luvsik Memories
. Call me Des.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I must say, you look far too young to be the agent for such a prestigious band.’ His eyes were twinkling and I could see that his deliberate charm was working on our hostess. She blushed and simpered as she led us to a comfy seating area where two sofas faced each other across a low table.

‘I’ve arranged for tea and coffee, but we can get you something stronger if you prefer,’ she said as she sat down and waved a hand for us to do likewise.

‘Tea’s fine for me, thanks.’ I sat on the other sofa and was a little disappointed when Des chose to sit next to Angela. She didn’t look that young; maybe thirty or thereabouts. She was tall and slim with rather sharp features and she wore a pair of those glasses that are almost invisible. She produced a desk diary from her large shoulder bag as we drank our tea.

‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ she asked.

‘It was fantastic. Thanks for looking after us so well,’ I said.

‘My pleasure. Now let me throw some dates at you and see when we can arrange this interview. Josh is a very busy man, as you know, but he’s back in this area in February and we can fit you in then, if that suits.’

It’s really going to happen. I’m going to meet him. I’m so excited I can’t speak.

Des took control, thank God. ‘We discussed this earlier. We appreciate Mr Greenwood’s generosity in agreeing to the interview, so we decided that Lydia will accept any date that he’s available and will cancel her other engagements for that day.’

‘That makes life easier. Let’s say lunch on February 12
^th
. I can call you with confirmation of the details.’

‘That’s perfect, isn’t it Lydia?’

‘Yes, perfect,’ I managed at last.

Des drove me home, but didn’t come in with me. He said he had things to do, so we kissed goodnight at my front door just as the church clock across the way chimed midnight.

‘Hey, do you hear that? Merry Christmas, Des.’

‘Merry Christmas, Lyd.’ One more kiss and he was gone.

Chapter 22: ’Tis the Season

Trudi came early on Christmas morning and we played festive CDs as we started the preparations in the kitchen. She was quite magnanimous about the fact that Des would be joining us.