Always Something There to Remind Me (7 page)

‘What’s it about?’ My curiosity was aroused and I could see that he was struggling. There was silence for a while. Then he took a deep breath before speaking.

‘Alice wants to meet up and I don’t know what to do.’ He put his head in his hands.

‘Do you know why?’

‘I haven’t a clue. Not a word since she walked out a year ago. Then a few weeks ago, I got a text in the middle of the night.’ He scrolled back through the messages on his mobile and handed it to me. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Back in UK early next year. Would like to meet. Call or text. A x’

‘You got this a few weeks ago? Didn’t you answer it?’

‘Not yet. Like I said, I don’t know what to do.’

Something made me look at the message again. ‘Or perhaps you were a little preoccupied? I’ve just noticed the date. You’d had a busy evening.’

‘We’d both had a “busy” evening.’ He put the phone back in his pocket and took my hand. ‘It was after midnight and you were sleeping like a baby, all snuggled up in my arms with your head resting on my chest. I was so happy and comfortable; I didn’t ever want to move, even though I had pins and needles in my left arm.’ He smiled.

‘So why did you move? I felt terrible when I woke up and you’d gone without a word.’

‘The text arrived. I’d left my phone beside the bed like I do at home. I reached for it and read the message. I couldn’t put it out of my mind and I couldn’t sleep after that, so I slipped away and went home to try to sort my head out. I ended up drinking too much and still not knowing what to do.’ He was holding my hand, absent-mindedly playing with the wedding ring I’d never quite had the heart to discard.

‘Why do you think I can advise you? My track record with relationships isn’t great either. It’s not like I know Alice. Do you think she wants to try again? Is that what you’re hoping for?’ I found myself holding my breath as I waited for his reply, which was slow in coming.

‘I really don’t know what she wants at all. For a long time I thought I wanted her to come home and start over, but not now. I guess I’ve moved on. The relationship is history.’

‘Then I think you’ve just answered your own question. Unless there’s anything left to sort out you don’t need to talk to her.’
Why do I feel relieved?

‘Maybe I just needed to talk it through. Thanks for listening, Lyd.’ He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. ‘You’re a diamond.’

‘No worries. That’s what friends are for – sharing and listening and all that. You can talk to me about anything.’

‘What would I do without you?’ He leaned forward, placing his hand behind my neck, and kissed me briefly on the lips. Something unspoken passed between us in that moment and was gone again as he turned the TV back on and I went to forage in the freezer for ingredients to make dinner.

Chapter 13: Stargazing

The auditions for
Stargazing
were taking place on the third floor of the conference centre. Five rooms were set up with two ‘judges’ in each. The performers and their entourages were divided between two large hospitality rooms on the second floor. The schedule was tight; each artiste would have seven minutes to perform and answer a few questions. Decisions would be made on the spot, and successful performers invited back to a second audition at a later date. As I checked in with my ‘entourage’ – Trudi and Des – I was reminded that the judges’ decisions were final and no discussions would be entered into. We found three seats in a corner of Hospitality 1 and Des went to fetch some drinks. My stomach was tying itself in knots. Everyone around me looked so young and vibrant and I suddenly felt very foolish.

‘What am I even doing here?’ I asked. ‘Look at me, I’m bloody ancient!’

‘You’re just nervous,’ Trudi said. ‘And you look great. I hate to admit it, but Des was right about the outfit.’

I’d eventually chosen a simple dress in royal blue jersey. The scooped neckline revealed just a hint of cleavage and it fitted close to my waist, enhancing my bust and creating the impression that I actually had a shape. The hem of the straight skirt was just above my knees. It wasn’t the height of glamour, but it felt ‘dressy’ enough for me.

‘He’s often right about stuff.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Trudi laughed. ‘But he was right about that.’

‘Should my ears be burning?’ Des had successfully negotiated the trip to the refreshments hatch and was precariously balancing three paper cups of tea. He sat down beside me and said solemnly, ‘Perhaps it’s time to call the priest. This tea is so weak it needs the last rites.’

I spluttered and Trudi raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t spill it, for God’s sake. You don’t want to perform with a tea stain down your dress.’

‘It could be worse,’ Des said. ‘The tea’s hot and I’m sure you don’t want to scald your boobs.’

I read through the information sheet that I’d been given at the door. It seemed that Trudi wouldn’t be able to come into the actual audition with me.

‘How come Des gets to go in and I don’t?’ she moaned.

‘Well, technically, he counts as my accompanist because he’s operating the CD player for the backing.’

‘I could do that.’

‘Yes, but Des and I have rehearsed this. It’s only fair.’

‘I suppose so.’ She glared at Des.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, my name was called. We followed a woman with a clipboard up to the third floor and stopped outside a room labelled CR 3.

‘Wait here until they call you in. Good luck.’ Then she was gone. I was shaking by now. Des put an arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

‘You’ll be great, Lyd. Just close your eyes and pretend we’re back in your living room rehearsing. Sing it like you mean it and they’ll just have to love you.’ He planted a kiss on the top of my head and the door opened.

I know I wasn’t great, but apparently my performance wasn’t too bad either. I finished the song and, while Des was taking the CD out of the player, one of the judges handed me a sheet of paper. It was a standard letter telling me that I’d been recalled for the second round of auditions and giving a number to call for details.

‘Call during office hours on Monday and someone will tell you what happens next. Well done on getting through.’

‘Thank you,’ I gasped, turning to Des who was beaming at me. ‘I’m through to the next round!’

Outside the room we stopped and Des hugged me. ‘I knew you could do it.’

‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

It was meant to be just a quick kiss to express my gratitude, but somehow it didn’t quite work out that way, and when Trudi came looking for us five minutes later we were still lip-locked. She coughed to attract our attention and we sprang apart, somewhat flustered.

‘Trudi! I got through …’

‘I was just congratulating her …’

‘Thank God for that! I thought she’d passed out and you were administering mouth-to mouth resuscitation! Well done, Lydia. Now are we going out to celebrate, or is three a crowd?’ She was smiling, but there was an unmistakable note of sarcasm in her voice. I slipped my arm through hers and smiled.

‘What could be nicer than celebrating all together? I want to buy drinks for my two favourite people.’

We found a cosy little pub a few streets away with a jazz trio entertaining the lunchtime patrons. I bought the drinks and we settled in a corner and made small talk. When Des went to the gents, Trudi seized the opportunity to speak her mind.

‘What is going on with you two?’

‘What do you mean?’ The bubbles in my Diet Coke were fascinating and I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

‘You’re not still claiming that you’re just good friends, are you? You’ve always told me everything; what’s the big secret this time?’

‘There’s no big secret and nothing to tell you that you don’t already know. We’re friends.’

‘And the clinch? What was that all about? It was certainly friendly.’

‘He was congratulating me and I was thanking him.’

‘Well, I must say, you certainly seemed very grateful from where I was standing.’

At that moment Des returned. He placed his hands on my shoulders and squeezed past me to get to his seat. ‘Sorry, love. It’s a tight fit,’ he said. I glanced at Trudi who was raising her eyebrows.

‘Almost too close for comfort,’ she said.

* * * * *

Dear Diary,

What a day it’s been! I can hardly wait to find out what the next stage of the auditions involves. I’m sure I’ll be out after that, but it’s great to have got this far. It’s more than I expected when I started out on this hare-brained plan. I can’t believe how fast it’s all been happening.

Trudi didn’t want to hang out with us this afternoon. I think she has a real problem with Des. She said she had work to do at home and left the pub after one drink. We stayed for a while longer, then Des drove me home. He came in for a while and we checked the stats on the fanzine website. It’s taking off quite well. We have thirty members! Still no reply about an interview with Josh, but I can’t expect to have all my dreams come true, can I?

Des left at 5 p.m. He’s going to a stag ‘do’ tonight. I walked him to the door and we kissed goodbye. It’s odd, really. I don’t know why we actually decided all this kissing was such a good idea. I mean, it’s not as if we’re a couple or anything; we’re just friends. Not that it worries me. He’s a good kisser and there’s never any pressure to take things further. I’m pretty sure neither of us wants to complicate our lives that way! No, kissing Des is sweet and safe and totally uncomplicated, so it’s OK, isn’t it?

Chapter 14: Storytelling

‘It’ll be fun. I might even have a go myself.’

We were on our way home from the writing group and Des was trying to talk me into joining a group night out to a storytelling event the following week.

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure I fancy the idea at all. I mean storytelling’s for kids, isn’t it?’

‘This won’t be. I’ve been to a few of these things before and really enjoyed them. They have professional storytellers and a few open mike slots for people who want to get up and try their hand at it.’

In the end, I agreed to go. There was nothing much happening on the list front as my second audition was scheduled for early January and I still had no word about a ‘date’ with Josh Greenwood. As for the flying – well, I’d all but given up on that one for the time being. I tried to persuade Trudi to join us, but she was having none of it.

‘Sorry darling,’ she said. ‘Not my idea of a good time at all. I’m sure you and Des will have fun with your literary buddies, but I’d rather stay home and watch paint dry.’

‘Ouch! I’m sure it won’t be as bad as all that, but please yourself.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so snarky, but it’s not my thing. We’ll have a girls’ night soon, OK?’

The Storytelling Circle was a regular monthly event at the local arts centre. I was surprised that I’d never heard about it before. Des said it had been running for a couple of years. Six of the members of our group, including Tess, showed up and we went into the small auditorium and found seats near the front. Des and two of the others put their names down to tell stories if the opportunity arose.

‘You’re so brave! I couldn’t do that.’ The very thought terrified me. Des just laughed.

‘It’s exactly the same as karaoke – but without the music.’ I supposed he was right, but he’d be speaking his own words in public. I’d feel far too exposed to do that.

The host for the evening took the stage. He introduced himself as Jonathan. He was a handsome fellow in his mid-thirties, dressed in an old-fashioned frock coat, with a top hat for dramatic effect. When he spoke, his voice reminded me of dark chocolate. I settled comfortably into my seat and was soon spellbound.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I bid you welcome to the storytelling circle. Stories are our life’s blood. They have existed for ever. Long before most people could read and before the invention of such modern wonders as TV, cinema and video games, communities would share their stories by word of mouth and that’s what we are here to do. We hope to delight you with stories old and new to remind you of those bygone days when oral storytelling was the only form of entertainment, education and information. Many stories have been told and retold over the years and across different cultures, each time gaining a little from the retelling. Were you aware, for example, that the tale most of us know as
Cinderella
exists in over two hundred versions worldwide?’

I certainly didn’t know this and I listened entranced as he launched into a version of the classic story that I’d never heard before. There was no fairy godmother but an angel who came in answer to the prayer of a poor, mistreated girl and led her to the palace of the prince only after she had performed three tasks to prove her worthiness. The story ended and I found myself applauding enthusiastically. Three more ‘regulars’ told stories and I was on the edge of my seat by the time the interval was announced.

‘I don’t need to ask if you’re enjoying it,’ Des said as we made our way to the bar with the others. ‘It’s written all over your face.’

‘It’s fantastic. That last story brought tears to my eyes. I had no idea it would be this good.’

Tess was bubbling with enthusiasm too. She bought drinks for all of us and raved about the performances we’d witnessed so far.

‘And that Jonathan!’ she said, giving me a nudge. ‘Apart from his obvious skill as a storyteller, don’t you think he’s H.O.T?’ She fanned herself with a beer mat. I laughed, but she was insistent. ‘Come on, Lydia! You can’t tell me you didn’t think he was tasty.’

‘Well, maybe just a little …’ I replied.

The second half of the evening was given over to the open mike performers. These were the amateur storytellers and the first two were very nervous. Their hesitation spoiled the continuity of their stories and the spell was almost broken. At last Jonathan called for Des to get up and tell a story. I wished him luck and silently prayed that it would go well for him. I was struck at once by his confidence as he stepped up and smiled at the audience.

‘I’m going to share one of my own stories with you tonight. I hope you like it. It’s called
The Storyteller’s Handmaid.
’ He paused for a moment and then continued: