suddenly her mind was too full of the future, and the memory of that night on the beach.
“Sometimes dreams just change shape, and direction, that’s all. But they can still happen.”
Tom’s hand stilled. His eyebrows pulled together, confusion on his face as Georgia’s excited words came tumbling. “There’s a sign in the window of the wine bar near work, down Murcott Lane. It’s one of those small moody places, very popular, people queue to get in, and they’re looking for musicians for Friday nights.” She grinned as Tom’s eyes widened, with possibilities, she hoped. “I know it’s not the Albert Hall, but…”
“You’re thinking of me? Are you serious?”
“Very serious. It’d be brilliant. You would be brilliant.”
“No.” Tom shook his head. “It’s been too long. I haven’t played for an audience since…God, it must be fifteen years.” But Georgia could see the spark in his eyes.
“No, it’s not too long,” she said. “There’s no use-by date on these things. No use-by date on dreams.”
“That sounds like a bumper sticker, Georgia. A really bad bumper sticker.”
She laughed, then grimaced. “You’re right it does. But you know what I mean. You have a great voice, and I don’t need to mention the killer guitar skills. You’re amazing with an audience, and you could sing your own songs…” She held her breath as Tom frowned and rubbed his hand along his jaw – the small gesture a sign that he was thinking hard. “Well?” she said.
Tom chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m considering it,” he said and hugged Georgia hard. She sank into him, savouring the moment, savouring the familiar feel and scent of him, until Sophie started yelling for the guitars to stop, and her brothers yelled back.
“Back to reality.” Tom grinned, and then slowly let Georgia go as he shouted up the stairs. “Hey! Dinner!” He picked up the bag of curry from the floor. Georgia clutched her gift to her chest. The guitars shut off and the sound of pounding feet could be heard above. “Quick,” Tom said, grinning. “Lets get moving before we’re lost in the crush.”
Bent over the wide kitchen table, taking lids off containers and setting out plates, Georgia paused and looked at her husband.
“Tom? Do you think we were star-crossed lovers in the beginning? When we first met?”
He glanced up, licking some vindaloo off his thumb. “Star-crossed?” He considered for a moment. “Yeah, I’d say we were up there with Romeo and Juliet.”
“Really?”
He nodded, and then turned as Max and Alec appeared, their identical smiles matching their father’s. They were followed closely by their sister. There were hellos and I’m hungry, and a “please tell me you got butter chicken” from Sophie, followed by an argument over who should get the extra pappadum and Max telling Alec to stop hogging all the lamb korma. Then Sophie told her father that he was a genuine romantic hero and asked if she could get his side of the courtship story for her assignment.
“I told her about how we met,” Georgia explained. “The busking, Star Factory, no mobiles or internet. Everything.”
“Ah.” Understanding shone across Tom’s features.
“You were a busker?” Alec looked up from his plate, eyes wide.
“Cool.” Max grinned. “Tell us about it?”
“Sure. It was…”
“Not yet,” Sophie spoke up. “First he needs to tell me about…”
“It’s not all about you, Soph,” Alec interrupted. “Pass us the vindaloo.”
“Get it yourself,” Sophie snapped.
Georgia went to the fridge to get the bottle of ice water and Tom met her there. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder while they watched the drama unfold at the table. Now Alec had accidentally put his elbow in Sophie’s rice.
Georgia rolled her eyes and gave a
“Sometimes dreams just change shape, and direction, that’s all. But they can still happen.”
Tom’s hand stilled. His eyebrows pulled together, confusion on his face as Georgia’s excited words came tumbling. “There’s a sign in the window of the wine bar near work, down Murcott Lane. It’s one of those small moody places, very popular, people queue to get in, and they’re looking for musicians for Friday nights.” She grinned as Tom’s eyes widened, with possibilities, she hoped. “I know it’s not the Albert Hall, but…”
“You’re thinking of me? Are you serious?”
“Very serious. It’d be brilliant. You would be brilliant.”
“No.” Tom shook his head. “It’s been too long. I haven’t played for an audience since…God, it must be fifteen years.” But Georgia could see the spark in his eyes.
“No, it’s not too long,” she said. “There’s no use-by date on these things. No use-by date on dreams.”
“That sounds like a bumper sticker, Georgia. A really bad bumper sticker.”
She laughed, then grimaced. “You’re right it does. But you know what I mean. You have a great voice, and I don’t need to mention the killer guitar skills. You’re amazing with an audience, and you could sing your own songs…” She held her breath as Tom frowned and rubbed his hand along his jaw – the small gesture a sign that he was thinking hard. “Well?” she said.
Tom chuckled and shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m considering it,” he said and hugged Georgia hard. She sank into him, savouring the moment, savouring the familiar feel and scent of him, until Sophie started yelling for the guitars to stop, and her brothers yelled back.
“Back to reality.” Tom grinned, and then slowly let Georgia go as he shouted up the stairs. “Hey! Dinner!” He picked up the bag of curry from the floor. Georgia clutched her gift to her chest. The guitars shut off and the sound of pounding feet could be heard above. “Quick,” Tom said, grinning. “Lets get moving before we’re lost in the crush.”
Bent over the wide kitchen table, taking lids off containers and setting out plates, Georgia paused and looked at her husband.
“Tom? Do you think we were star-crossed lovers in the beginning? When we first met?”
He glanced up, licking some vindaloo off his thumb. “Star-crossed?” He considered for a moment. “Yeah, I’d say we were up there with Romeo and Juliet.”
“Really?”
He nodded, and then turned as Max and Alec appeared, their identical smiles matching their father’s. They were followed closely by their sister. There were hellos and I’m hungry, and a “please tell me you got butter chicken” from Sophie, followed by an argument over who should get the extra pappadum and Max telling Alec to stop hogging all the lamb korma. Then Sophie told her father that he was a genuine romantic hero and asked if she could get his side of the courtship story for her assignment.
“I told her about how we met,” Georgia explained. “The busking, Star Factory, no mobiles or internet. Everything.”
“Ah.” Understanding shone across Tom’s features.
“You were a busker?” Alec looked up from his plate, eyes wide.
“Cool.” Max grinned. “Tell us about it?”
“Sure. It was…”
“Not yet,” Sophie spoke up. “First he needs to tell me about…”
“It’s not all about you, Soph,” Alec interrupted. “Pass us the vindaloo.”
“Get it yourself,” Sophie snapped.
Georgia went to the fridge to get the bottle of ice water and Tom met her there. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder while they watched the drama unfold at the table. Now Alec had accidentally put his elbow in Sophie’s rice.
Georgia rolled her eyes and gave a
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