Chapter 18
Eliza
‘Hello!’ My voice has gone up an octave. I’m at Roxy’s and Angus has just walked through the door.
‘Hey,’ he replies with a wide smile. He’s with another, slightly older man who looks vaguely familiar. ‘This is my friend Stewart from work.’
‘Hi.’ My brow furrows. ‘Have you been in before?’
‘Yeah, last week with a few of the lads,’ he tells me. ‘The burgers were so good I thought I’d come back.’
‘I hate to ask, but did you make a reservation?’ I glance at Angus, but I already know his answer. He’s not that organised.
‘Sorry,’ he says apologetically as I tut and grab two menus.
‘Come with me.’ I take them to a table for two in my section. ‘I’ll need you out by eight, though, is that okay?’
‘We’ll eat quickly,’ Stewart promises.
I try to disguise how on edge I feel as I take their drinks order. Angus and I went for months without laying eyes on each other and now I’ve seen him twice in one week. It’s disconcerting.
It’s also really lovely.
It’s busier than usual for a Monday because we have a couple of big parties in so I don’t have a whole lot of time to stay and chat, but sometimes I feel Angus’s eyes on me and I can’t help but glance over at him and smile.
‘Eliza is a singer-songwriter,’ he tells Stewart when I go to clear their plates after dinner.
‘What sort of music do you play?’ Stewart chips in with interest.
‘It’s kind of quirky, upbeat,’ I reply.
‘It’s very cool,’ Angus tells him earnestly. ‘But she’s too busy waitressing to line up new venues. Your dad would like her stuff,’ he says casually.
‘Yeah?’ Stewart pays me a bit more attention, looking me up and down.
What’s Angus up to?
‘Stewart’s dad is Joe of Elvis & Joe’s,’ Angus explains. Well, I don’t imagine he’s Elvis. ‘Do you know the place?’
‘Of course I do!’ Elvis & Joe’s is one of the city’s hippest venues. Way out of my league, I’d say.
Stewart reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, extracting a business card.
‘Why don’t you email me,’ he says, handing it over. ‘I can put you in touch with Dad.’
‘That would be great,’ I say, flashing a stunned look at Angus. I glance past him to the clock. It’s nearly eight.
‘Dessert?’ I ask. Bugger the next customers; they can wait. ‘Nah, I’m stuffed,’ Stewart replies. ‘Quick drink at the pub before I get back to the missus?’ he suggests to Angus.
‘Sure,’ Angus replies with a nod.
‘We’ll just get the bill, please,’ Stewart says to me.
I force a smile and hop to it.
After they’ve paid and left me a generous tip, Stewart goes downstairs to the toilet while Angus waits by the door. I need to get back to my customers, but I’m reluctant to leave him.
‘What time will you finish tonight?’ he asks me quietly as I smooth down the front of my red and white uniform.
‘Around eleven, I think.’
‘Can I come back for you?’
My heart flutters, but I speak before I can stop myself. ‘Why? I mean, I usually catch the Metro. It’s no trouble.’
‘I’ll come back for you,’ he says decisively.
‘What are you going to do to pass the next three hours?’
‘Pub with Stew and then maybe I’ll go and see a movie.’
‘Okay.’ I grin. ‘Wish I could come.’
‘Do you?’ His face lights up.
A few people bustle in behind him. I glance over my shoulder to see that they – and I – have my boss’s attention. ‘Gotta go,’ I tell him regretfully.
‘I’ll see you later.’ He touches his fingers to mine.
I’m distracted for the rest of the night. Michelle corners me by the kitchen as I wait for the last of my customers’ dessert order.
‘I thought you didn’t want to see him ever again,’ she says.
‘I didn’t say that, did I?’ I carry on before she continues. ‘If I did, it was in the heat of the moment. If Rose is living with him, why should I stay away?’
‘Aah,’ she says knowingly. ‘It’s the whole competitive sister thing going on.’
‘I’m not competing with Rose.’ Am I?
‘You hate that she’s living with Angus, don’t you?’
I’m about to lie, but I can’t be bothered. ‘Yeah, it’s pretty damn annoying. But it’s typical of her. They were mates in London so it doesn’t surprise me that she jumped right in there.’
‘Well, I’m glad for you,’ she says abruptly.
I flash her a mystified look. ‘What did you say it like that for? He’s just a mate. We’re hanging out.’
‘He’s very good-looking, though, isn’t he?’ she says offhandedly.
‘Oh, look, my ice creams are here,’ I say sarcastically, picking them up from the counter and glaring at her as I go back upstairs to my last remaining table.
‘Do you really have to live here?’ Angus asks with distaste when we pull up outside my tower block half an hour later. He cuts the ignition, but the radio continues to play.
‘Yes,’ I reply firmly. ‘It’s fine. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry.’
‘I think I’ll always worry about you, Liza.’
I remember him saying something similar to Rose once. He sounded like the big brother we never had. I try not to ponder that thought too much.
‘How’s it going with Rose?’ I ask hesitantly.
‘Good,’ he replies, wriggling in his seat so he’s facing me. ‘She’s easy to live with.’
I experience a spike of jealousy.
‘She wanted to do a barbecue tonight, bless her,’ he continues warmly, and my jealousy intensifies.
‘Does she know you’re here tonight?’ I ask.
He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t mention it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want me to.’
I nod. ‘Yeah, it’s probably best to keep it quiet. I know Mum was warned not to tell me she was living with you.’
‘Where was Michelle off to tonight?’ he asks. He offered to give her a lift, too, but she declined.
‘She’s staying at her boyfriend’s.’
‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
I’m taken aback by his direct question. ‘No. Are you?’
He recoils. ‘No.’
We sit in silence for a long moment. I still haven’t made any move to get out of the car. Alt-J’s ‘Left Hand Free’ is playing on his stereo. I like this song.
An impulsive thought comes to me. ‘Have you got an early start? Shall we go for a drive?’
We don’t talk much – in fact, I turn the music up and sing instead, and Angus bashes the steering wheel like a drum kit on the more upbeat songs, making me laugh.
It reminds me of how we used to be.
‘Do you remember that picnic we had?’ he asks after about half an hour. We’re already out in the country, winding around the hills of the Peak District on a long, single-lane road.
‘Of course I do,’ I reply.
‘I think we parked just around this corner.’
He slows right down and a moment later pulls onto a grassy verge. I sit up in my seat, looking out at the hills, which are overexposed and silvery white in the car’s headlights.
He yanks on the handbrake and cuts off the engine, then opens his car door and hops out. ‘Come on,’ he says, slamming the door.
‘Where are you going?’ I call after him.
He doesn’t answer, but I hear the rear door open and when I join him, he’s sitting in the boot space of the Land Rover with his legs dangling out of the back. I perch beside him.
‘Can you hear the stream?’ he asks.
I listen for a moment. ‘Yes.’ It’s tumbling over rocks nearby.
‘Look up,’ he whispers.
‘Wow.’ I gaze at the dark sky twinkling with stars.
‘Are you cold?’ He glances at my bare arms.
‘Not really,’ I reply. The heat from the July day has carried through to the evening, but I take the lightweight jacket he passes me, slipping my arms into the cool material. It smells of him.
‘So, Elvis & Joe’s, hey?’ I say with a wry grin. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you?’
‘Sorry I didn’t give you any warning. Stewart hasn’t stopped bleating on about your burgers, and then it occurred to me that we could drop in tonight.’
‘Do you think he’ll tell his dad about me?’ I ask nervously.
‘He will when he’s heard you sing. I gave him a copy of your demo.’
‘You still had one?’ I ask with surprise.
‘Of course,’ he replies. ‘I’ve still got a couple, actually, just in case I ever get a chance to give them to anyone important. I’m not lying when I say I like your music, you know.’
I’m touched, but I don’t know what to say.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve heard any of your new stuff, though,’ he adds.
‘It’s been a while since I’ve written anything new,’ I confess. ‘I only ever play covers at gigs these days.’
He glances at me with a frown. ‘Why is that?’
‘That’s all they want at social clubs.’ I sigh. ‘It was kind of nice, the first time they asked me to do a few covers. The punters really got into it with everyone singing and clapping along. But the next time I went back, the manager wanted more of the same. That happened in venue after venue. I was only supposed to tour the working men’s clubs for a couple of years, but two turned into five and... I don’t know what’s happened. I think I’ve lost confidence. That bloody demo didn’t help.’
‘What do you mean?’ His eyebrows knit together.
‘It was such a headache. I remember finding it so hard to choose between all of the songs I’d ever written and narrow them down to five. I used to think my earlier material was my best, but I worried that it sounded dated – plus I’d played it so much busking. In the end I went for variety and sent CDs off to a whole bunch of record companies. I didn’t hear back from any of them. I probably should have stuck to a more cohesive sound.’
‘I wish you’d asked for my opinion,’ he says sadly.
I sigh again. ‘Yeah.’ My confusion over choosing which songs to use eventually led to me feeling unsure about myself. Busking is the only time I ever really sing my own stuff any more, and I do enjoy it, but I’m not exactly raking it in.
‘I hope Joe says yes,’ I whisper. ‘At least, I think I do.’
‘I haven’t rushed you into this, have I?’ he asks tentatively.
‘Yes.’ I flash him a smile. ‘But it’s good. It’s... just... Thank you,’ I finish.
‘You’re welcome.’ He reaches across and gives my shoulder a tender squeeze.