The waiter arrived at the table with Netta’s coffee and Audrey gave Netta’s hand an affectionate pat before she pushed herself up from her chair. ‘I’d love to stay and chat, dear, but I’ve got a shopping trip with the merry widows to get to,’ she said.
‘The merry widows?’
‘Oh, it’s just a silly thing we’ve started saying,’ said Audrey with a laugh. ‘Every Christmas I come and stay in the city to spend the holiday with my two best girlfriends. We’ve all lost our husbands now, you see,’ she explained. ‘We go to the theatre, buy clothes, have Christmas lunch at Claridge’s. Horribly extravagant of course but if you can’t blow your money when you’re eighty-four, when can you?
‘Perhaps I should leave you this,’ she added, pushing her folded newspaper towards Netta. ‘There’s a story in the entertainment section I think you should read while that coffee blows your head off. Might help you with the red-wire, blue-wire problem.’ She patted Netta on the shoulder as she squeezed between the tables. ‘Hold fast to your dreams, Netta. Nobody else will.’
Netta waved goodbye as Audrey left the café, silently hoping she would be as impressive as Audrey at that age—she made being an octogenarian seem like something to look forward to. Netta took a sip of her masochistically strong coffee and opened the newspaper, rifling through to the entertainment section.
PLAY ON! MORRISONMAPLESTONE’SHIDDENHEART OFGOLDwas the headline and underneath was a photo of Mo looking predictably handsome, surrounded by instruments. The story detailed Mo’s secret charity work providing musical equipment to underprivileged schools all over the country and funding the wages of music teachers. They’d interviewed kids who’d benefited, principals and teachers who raved about the difference Mo’s donations had made to their music programs and student engagement, and Mo, who talked about how learning an instrument and enjoying music supports mental health and wellbeing and helps kids with literacy and numeracy. How education should be fair and equitable and how music was an essential part of the curriculum, not a luxury.
Netta sat back in her seat, her coffee cooled and forgotten. In the article, Mo had talked about his plans to expand Play On into developing countries. Maybe that’s what he’d been talking about last night when he said there was something important that relied on his financial support; maybe it was the expansion of Play On that depended on this new record deal. Netta tapped her fingertips, one by one, on the newspaper, absorbing this new information. This philanthropic side of Mo was an unexpected discovery. And it washot.It also made it clearer which wire to cut, if accepting his offer might play a small part in making sure the expansion went ahead—Audrey had been right about that. She retrieved her phone from her handbag, her stomach already turning cartwheels at the prospect of who she was about to call.
He answered on the second ring. ‘Hello?’
‘Mo, it’s Netta.’
He cleared his throat. ‘Hi.’
‘I just saw the article in the paper,’ she said. ‘Play On sounds amazing.’
‘Ah, yeah. Thanks,’ he said.
‘I haven’t decided yet, about the gala,’ said Netta, nerves sending a crackle of electricity through her entire body at what she was about to say. ‘But I was thinking, maybe we could hang out this morning and see how it goes?’ Netta’s heart stopped. She hadnotjust asked Morrison Maplestone on a date. This was just a business strategy. Nothing more. ‘After all,’ she hurried to explain, ‘if I do decide to go, nobody’s going to buy it if we don’t enjoy each other’s company. Maybe we need a test run.’
‘I’m kind of already— Actually, could you be in Shepherd’s Bush in half an hour?’ he asked.
‘I think so.’ Netta took an instantly regrettable gulp of cold coffee.
‘Great,’ said Mo. ‘I’ll text you the address.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
MO
Mo scuffed the toe of his ancient Dr Martens against the carpet and checked his watch. Nine fifty-five. Netta would be arriving soon and, at the thought of seeing her again, the butterflies from last night were playing an enthusiastic encore in his belly. There was something about her—lots of somethings, actually—and the anticipation of seeing her again sent a buzz of nervous energy through him. Last night, he’d felt more seen than he had for a long time, and the thrill of it was a little confusing given he’d spent so much of his life hiding behind a persona. But she also made him feel like he could relax a little. Breathe. Be himself. Being with her had made him feel like he’d taken his sunglasses off—everything had looked a little different. Brighter.
There was a knock at the door before it opened. The receptionist of the escape room smiled nervously at him as he stuck his head around the door. ‘Sorry to disturb, Mr Maplestone, I’m Callum— we met at reception. Your, er, teammate is here.’ He pushed the door open to reveal Netta standing behind him, a huge handbag slung over her shoulder and that knitted hat on her head again, a takeaway coffee in each hand.
‘An escape room?’ She held a coffee out to Mo. ‘Have you booked the whole place?’
‘Yeah, I did.’ Mo puffed out his cheeks and scratched the back of his neck. ‘I know it’s weird. It’s just a thing I do when I’m stressed out. Helps me focus,’ he said. ‘Or something like that, anyway.’ He didn’t know why, but the finite nature of the challenge seemed to soothe him. The black and white, right or wrong of it was so different to his life in the public eye. Out there, his success depended on so many factors beyond his control. In an escape room, it was all on him, and he liked that.
He took a sip of coffee. She’d remembered how he liked it, and for some reason that small kindness felt profound
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to chug those coffees,’ interrupted Callum. ‘No food or drink allowed in the escape room.’
Netta had already taken a box from her handbag. ‘Oh, no snacks?’
‘Normally it’s no snacks.’ Callum was clearly uncomfortable with having to assert authority. ‘But I’ll make an exception for you, Mr Maplestone,’ he said. ‘My mum and granny absolutely love your music, they do. Mum had “Music Box” playing when I was born, so technically, your voice is the first one I ever heard. Isn’t that weird?’
Netta raised an eyebrow as she offered Mo a cookie. ‘Wasn’t that song about—’
‘It was a song about a music box,’ said Mo, cutting her off with a quick grin. ‘And that’s lovely, mate. Tell your mum I’m honoured.’
‘Music Box’ had been one of Mo’s first big hits and its lyrics had set off a long debate among his fans about whether or not it was a euphemism for something that was probably not that appropriate to have provided the soundtrack to the birth of a baby. Or possibly, now that he thought about it, wasveryappropriate.
‘Okay, so your game is set to begin in ten minutes,’ Callum continued. ‘Your Games Master will be with you soon to talk you through the challenge. I’ll see you when you’re done.’ He flashed them a sly grin. ‘Ifyou escape, that is.’
