but, pretty soon, I almost forgot about Greg’s friend request. There was absolutely no evidence that he was even looking at Facebook, and he certainly never posted anything or made any attempt to contact me. So, I had been worrying about nothing after all, and Christmas was only a few weeks away, with its round of parties, meals and other social occasions, so I was upbeat and happy. I had one more gig with the band to look forward to, and the only cloud on the horizon was Christmas Day itself, when I would have to sit in the crossfire whilst my parents sniped at each other from their respective armchairs. I was trying not to think about that, as there seemed to be no escape, but at least I could enjoy the rest of the season.
The final gig of the year was back at The White Horse on the second Saturday in December. The landlord had phoned Anton a couple of days after my debut and asked if the band could fill a cancellation, so that was an unexpected bonus and it was likely to be an even better crowd than before, with Christmas so close and everyone getting into party mode. I was a little nervous about singing to what could be quite a large number of people, but Olga told me not to worry.
“To be honest, most of them won’t even be listening. They’ll be drinking and chatting, laughing and messing about until about halfway through the second set, when everyone will get up and dance. We’ll have some fun, but there won’t be any music critics there. Just enjoy it. You’ll be fine!”
I pretended to agree with her, but I was quite anxious by the time Friday came and the gig was only the next day. Normally, I didn’t talk a lot about my personal life in the staffroom, as I didn’t want to be like some of my colleagues who walked in every Monday morning and regaled anyone who would listen with the dreary details of their weekends. The barbecues they had hosted, the dinners they had cooked, the many and various antics of their children, all of whom were either highly talented in some field or other or driving them mad. There was no way I was going to be like that, but when Alisha, who was a Maths teacher and also in her first year, sat down beside me and unwrapped her sandwiches, it seemed quite normal to talk about our weekends and of course it all came out.
“Wow, I had no idea you were a singer! You’ve been keeping that quiet,” she said. Obviously, I played it down, said it would only be two or three numbers and that Olga was the real star, but she was clearly impressed and kept coming back to it, even though I tried to steer the conversation towards her. I guessed that must have been when Richie found out about it, as I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else and I don’t think we had any mutual friends at that time. I wasn’t aware of him being close by, but it was the best explanation for how he came to be at the gig the next day, as all the posters I’d seen still showed the band who had cancelled.
I didn’t see him at first. I was getting quite good at setting up the equipment by then, and I was genuinely busy, rather than hanging around trying to be useful as I had been in the early days. I had put my coat over a chair at the same table as before, but I didn’t leave the stage until the band were ready to start, as we’d taken our drinks back there to hold a last-minute discussion about the playlist. The pub was getting busy even at this early stage, and Anton thought we should replace a couple of the slower songs with others that were more conducive to dancing. I offered to drop one of mine, but nobody agreed to that, and we settled on Anton’s suggestions without much more debate.
So, with some trepidation but an overall feeling of excitement, I climbed off the stage and headed to my table. That’s when I saw him, standing quite near to the front with a typical Richie smile on his face and a pint in his hand. My heart leapt, but then it crashed again almost as suddenly, as there, a little behind
The final gig of the year was back at The White Horse on the second Saturday in December. The landlord had phoned Anton a couple of days after my debut and asked if the band could fill a cancellation, so that was an unexpected bonus and it was likely to be an even better crowd than before, with Christmas so close and everyone getting into party mode. I was a little nervous about singing to what could be quite a large number of people, but Olga told me not to worry.
“To be honest, most of them won’t even be listening. They’ll be drinking and chatting, laughing and messing about until about halfway through the second set, when everyone will get up and dance. We’ll have some fun, but there won’t be any music critics there. Just enjoy it. You’ll be fine!”
I pretended to agree with her, but I was quite anxious by the time Friday came and the gig was only the next day. Normally, I didn’t talk a lot about my personal life in the staffroom, as I didn’t want to be like some of my colleagues who walked in every Monday morning and regaled anyone who would listen with the dreary details of their weekends. The barbecues they had hosted, the dinners they had cooked, the many and various antics of their children, all of whom were either highly talented in some field or other or driving them mad. There was no way I was going to be like that, but when Alisha, who was a Maths teacher and also in her first year, sat down beside me and unwrapped her sandwiches, it seemed quite normal to talk about our weekends and of course it all came out.
“Wow, I had no idea you were a singer! You’ve been keeping that quiet,” she said. Obviously, I played it down, said it would only be two or three numbers and that Olga was the real star, but she was clearly impressed and kept coming back to it, even though I tried to steer the conversation towards her. I guessed that must have been when Richie found out about it, as I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else and I don’t think we had any mutual friends at that time. I wasn’t aware of him being close by, but it was the best explanation for how he came to be at the gig the next day, as all the posters I’d seen still showed the band who had cancelled.
I didn’t see him at first. I was getting quite good at setting up the equipment by then, and I was genuinely busy, rather than hanging around trying to be useful as I had been in the early days. I had put my coat over a chair at the same table as before, but I didn’t leave the stage until the band were ready to start, as we’d taken our drinks back there to hold a last-minute discussion about the playlist. The pub was getting busy even at this early stage, and Anton thought we should replace a couple of the slower songs with others that were more conducive to dancing. I offered to drop one of mine, but nobody agreed to that, and we settled on Anton’s suggestions without much more debate.
So, with some trepidation but an overall feeling of excitement, I climbed off the stage and headed to my table. That’s when I saw him, standing quite near to the front with a typical Richie smile on his face and a pint in his hand. My heart leapt, but then it crashed again almost as suddenly, as there, a little behind
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