‘Lauren? Wait– do you fancy Kate’s mate?’
‘Intrigued, is more the word I’d use,’ he replies. ‘Captivated. But yeah. I fancy her. She’s like a little Easter Egg.’
I look at Lauren again and I’m stunned to see her smiling back at Graham. Never in a million years did I think those two would be remotely attracted to each other. Lauren’s all tattoos, vivacious and uninhibited while Graham is gentle, likes reading and has worn the same pair of jeans since I’ve known him.
‘I think she was seeing someone,’ I tell him. ‘But from the way she’s checking you out, I might be mistaken. I say go for it.’
He doesn’t need to be told twice and makes a beeline across the room. The night is just getting weirder and weirder.
Looking around, I’m absolutely certain that, apart from the catering staff and Kate, I’m the only person here with a normal job. Everyone else is either on telly or works in telly, whereas I only own a telly. I’ve never been in the same place as so many well-known people, most of whom are really down to earth. Well, except Noel Hart who just grunted at me. He’s a shit centre-forward anyway.
‘Jack and Coke?’
I turn to my right and see a woman with thick black eyeliner holding out a glass. She looks familiar but not familiar enough to be offering me a drink. I almost check behind me to make sure there’s no one else there, like when you wave at someone only to find they weren’t waving at you in the first place.
‘Sorry, are you talking to me?’
She laughs. ‘Yes, silly. I’m—’
‘Holy shit, you’re Ashleigh Mason.’
Ashleigh Mason is a singer–songwriter who just won her third Brit Award and is somehow now offering me a drink. My immediate reaction is to look for Kate. Kate adores her.
‘And you are. . .’
‘Um, Ed,’ I reply, still scanning the room. No sign of Kate. She must still be with Tara.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asks. ‘I feel like I’m disturbing you.’
‘God, no, I’m sorry,’ I say, accepting the drink. ‘I don’t mean to be rude; I was just looking for my girlfriend. She’s a huge fan of yours.’
‘And there’s me thinking you were all by yourself over here. I hate to see anyone sitting alone. What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’d love to say hi.’
My girlfriend. It suddenly hits me that she’s not my girlfriend anymore. I feel like I’ve been punched in the guts; but I’m not about to clarify the situation to Ashleigh Mason, who’s only being polite.
‘Kate,’ I reply. ‘She’s around somewhere. We saw you play at Glastonbury a couple of years ago.’
‘You did? Shame the weather wasn’t better,’ she says. ‘It was a fun day, though.’
‘It was. You did a brilliant set.’
‘Aw, that’s kind of you to say. So what do you do, Ed?’
‘Music teacher,’ I reply. ‘Actually, I think we studied at the same uni. You went to Manchester, right?’
She laughs. ‘You went to Manchester, too? Small world! What do you play?’
‘Piano, guitar mostly, clarinet.’
She perches on one of the couches, wobbling slightly but she catches herself. I think she’s the only woman here in jeans. It’s a nice change.
‘Woo, too much Jack for me!’ she says, giggling. ‘You know what, Ed? We should play something together.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Sure, why not? Let’s do it! Me and you. . . you and me. . . oh, and maybe my husband, if he’s not too plastered already.’
‘You’re kidding,’ I say, wondering if this is some sort of elaborate hoax. ‘He’s here? He’s a tremendous bass player.’
