Yours Truly (23 page)

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Authors: Kirsty Greenwood

BOOK: Yours Truly
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As we park up in the village green, I’m taken aback to find that I’ve missed this place. I’ve only been back in Manchester for a week, but seeing the beautiful honey coloured stone houses, and the tall trees again brings a wonderful sense of calm over me.

Dionne is not quite as impressed.


Oh my days. This place is, like, the middle of nowhere. I didn’t even know places like this existed.

I get out of the car and race out towards The Old Whimsy.


Do you not think it’s beautiful?

I ask, breathing in the fresh air and waving my arms around.

And the smell. It’s so clean.

And then I then realise that I’m talking to myself because Dionne isn’t even there. I look back. She’s still in the car. Arms folded and staring in front of her.

I scuffle back over.

Are you coming or what?


Nah. I’ll wait here. I need to let Jean-Paul Gaultier out for a wee anyway.


I’ll wait while he goes. Come on. It’s cold out here. You may as well come in.

Dionne climbs out of the car, sets Jean-Paul Gaultier on his lead and watches while he does his business on a patch of grass.


I suppose I can have a swift half while I’m waiting. You’re buying.

So Dionne, Jean-Paul Gaultier and I walk/trot back towards the pub. As we reach the door I feel a sudden flutter of butterflies in my tummy. And I hear music from inside. Wait…
It sounds like …


She’s an easy lover, she’ll get a hold on you believe it…

And there, as I open the door, are Riley, Baby-faced Robbie and two men I don’t know are doing a pretty good impression of a band. A band rocking out to Phil Collins.

I don’t get time to register what I think about Riley strumming a guitar with his eyes closed. Or the fact that they’re singing the song that I was singing the day Riley and I almost… you know. Because there, popping out from b
ehind Robbie, laughing and over
zealously bashing on a tambourine, is Meg!

What the heck! Without thinking about it I shout out

Meg!

It’s more of a cry actually.

Meg startles as she looks over and notices us standing there. Astonishment crosses her pretty features.


Natty? Dionne?

she signals for the band to stop playing, which they do immediately.

Well, she’s obviously been making herself very comfortable here.

She hurries over.


Oh noes! Have you been punched? Did Marie hunt you down?

she asks, gawking at my lips in horror.


No and no,

I answer immediately.

I had them filled. I
-
I don’t want to talk about it.

I cover my mouth with my hand.

What are you doing here?

I ask more grumpily than I should. It’s a free country. Why can’t she be here without me?


Sit down,

she says, leading me over to a table.


I want a drink and crisps.

Dionne yawns, holding her hand out for money. I hand over a note from my purse and she heads to the bar. Riley hurries over to serve her. I notice him glancing at me, a funny look on his face. A kind of smile, I think. He looks lovely in a pair of combat trousers and a white t-shirt. All fresh and tall and outdoorsy. I blush and turn to Meg.


Go on then,

I say.

Tell me why you’re here.


Stop looking at me like that, Nat! I came to see Jasper.


Jasper
Hobbs?


Yes.


Why? How long have you been here for?


Three days. I -


Why didn't you tell me?


I tried to ring, remember? You switched off your phone 'cos of your fake lurgy.


Oh yes. So I did. Sorry about that.


And even so, I didn’t think it was a good idea to remind you about what happened when you were here last week. You know. You seemed so guilty about it.

She looks at me pointedly and then glances over at Riley who is chatting to Dionne.


Yup.

She’s right.


When we got home I couldn’t stop thinking about stuff,

Meg carries on.

About what Jasper had said about his connections in the music industry. The more I thought about changi
ng careers, giving up the voice
over stuff and taking the big leap the more excited I got. I’m tired of waiting around. So I called him.


And?


He invited me up to record a demo in his studio.

Her eyes sparkle. She looks all energetic and new.


Jasper has a studio?


At the family home up the hill.


He lives at that massive house?

I say thinking of the huge manor type building up in the hills behind the pub.


Yeah, that's Hobbs Manor! It was brilliant, Natty. I felt like a proper star. Jasper’s friend Ian, you know the music biz one, really thinks I’ve got something special. He said I was like a young Lulu.

I nod, unaware of whether this is a compliment or not.

Dionne strolls over with a glass of lager and some prawn cocktail crisps. She brings me no change from the note I gave her.


All right Meg,

she says, opening the packet of crisps and handing one to Jean-Paul Gaultier who is perched obediently beside her.


Hiya.

Meg acknowledges her with a brief, not particularly friendly, nod.

I wish they got on a little better.


That guy behind the bar is well hot,

Dionne says, nodding over towards Riley who keeps shooting peeks over at our table.

He looks like a hot woodcutter.

Meg laughs in spite of herself and pokes her tongue out at me.


Anyway
,

I say trying not to th
ink about Riley as a woodcutter - n
aked and chopping up wood in the sunshine.


Anyway,

Meg carries on.

I’m going there tomorrow to put down the backing vocals. See? Check me out! I just said ‘put down the backing vocals’. I'm like Mariah Carey.


What are you on about?

Dionne asks, mouth full of crisps.


Meg is going to try to become a pop star,

I explain.

Saying it out loud I realise how bizarre it sounds. So out there. I can’t help feeling that she’s setting herself up for a fall. I mean, who really thinks that they can just decide to be a pop star and it’ll just happen? It’s silly. Of course, I don’t tell Meg that. She seems so happy.


You?

Dionne scoffs.

And that band?

She smirks and looks over to the corner of the pub where Robbie and the
other two men are messing half
-heartedly with various instruments. Robbie appears to be banging the tambourine on his rotund bottom.

Meg rolls her eyes and scowls at Dionne.

Yes me. Not with them, though. That’s just a mess about. They’re rehearsing for Mrs Grimes’ fundraiser.

Oh yes, I remember Riley saying something about that. Though he never mentioned he could play the guitar. But then, why would he?


Ooh, I’d love to be a pop star,

Dionne says, sipping from her drink.

I think I’d be dead good at it.


Hmmm. You have to be able to sing.

Meg leans down to pat Jean-Paul Gaultier who growls at her.


Um. No you don’t. Look at The Saturdays. What, you’re the only one who’s allowed to be a good singer?

Dionne grumps.

I think
-


Wait a second,

Meg interrupts, turning to me. Why are
you
here?

Shit. Seeing Meg and Riley, I completely forgot about Brian.


Oh crap!

I say.

I got a text message from someone. Brian’s back!


Is he? That’s fabulous!


Well, yes, according to the text. So you haven’t seen him?


No, not in here. Riley might have.

Is it me or is she wiggling her eyebrows?

Well I’m going to have to speak to him at some point. It would be rude if I didn’t.

I leave Meg and Dionne to throw evils at each other and approach Riley behind the bar.


Hello Miss Butterworth,

he smiles when I get there.

I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again so soon.


Yes, yes. Here I am. Surprise!

I feel myself blush.

I actually came to see Brian Fernando. I heard that he was back in Little Trooley, here in The Old Whimsy, actually. Have you seen him?

He thinks for a second.

Nope. I’m pretty sure he’s not been in the pub.

Maybe the sender of the text was mixed up. He’s here in the village, just not in the pub.


Hang on a second,

Riley says before darting into the back. He returns a second later, his Uncle Alan trailing behind in a pair of mud stained blue overalls.


Hello, l
ass!

Alan booms when he sees me, ambling around from the bar to envelop me into a huge muddy hug.

Did you get yourself fixed?

I hug back, surprised, but thrilled at his enthusiastic greeting.


No, I’m afraid not,

I say.

That’s why I’m here. Somebody text messaged me to say that Brian was back. In fact, they said he was right here in this pub.

I pull out my phone and show the pair of them the message.

Alan grimaces and shakes his head.

Oh. I’m sorry love, but we’ve not seen hide nor hair of him for weeks now.

My stomach drops.


Maybe he’s at his house.

I try.

I’ll pop over. Have a look.

Alan shakes his head again, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.


I was there about an hour ago love, watering his roses. He wasn’t home.

Oh no. What the hell?


But the text message,

I say.

Someone
-


I think perhaps you’ve been the subject of a practical joke, lass.

That can’t be right. I can’t have driven all this way again to find out that he’s not even here.

The disappointment stings. I thought I was close to getting my life back. Who would joke about that? Why would someone joke about that? It’s really not funny. I could understand if it was amusing, but it really isn’t. I look around at everyone in the pub, suspicion glinting in my eyes. Who was it? Who sent the message?

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