32
I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues
One extortionately expensive cab ride later and I was at Pete’s front door. Over the phone he’d explained in expletive-filled language that there had been a double booking with the band, which meant they had no music at the wedding tomorrow.
Pete ushered me into the sitting room and offered me a steaming mug of tea so strong I could feel it stripping the enamel off my teeth.
‘There’s no need to tell Alice,’ he said. ‘It will only worry her.’
I sat down while he detoured via the kitchen. He appeared a couple of minutes later, carrying a plate ofpastichia.The almond macaroons were traditional at Greek weddings and I suspected I would be eating gut-bursting quantities tomorrow.
‘Want one?’
‘I’m okay, thanks.’
He sat down on the sofa, next to an open Yellow Pages.
‘What are you doing with that?’ I asked. ‘Did you steal it from a museum?’
‘I’m trying to save my wedding,’ he answered gruffly.
‘I’m not sure how many bands advertise in the phone book.’
‘I’m not looking for bands, I’m ringing every mobile disco within a fifty-mile radius. Not that I’ve got anywhere. They’re all booked up.’
He was losing it and I needed to do something. ‘Pete, we don’t need a mobile disco. We can make playlists on a laptop and plug it into the hotel’sPA.’
‘Oh, I didn’t think of that.’
I patted his arm. ‘The other benefit of my idea is you won’t have to endure some mullet-hairedDJtalking over the intros of your favourite tracks. Leave everything to me. You will have music tomorrow, I promise.’
Pete looked at me weirdly. Did he have something in his contact lens? Or was he about to get soppy? Then he pronounced my name the Greek way – with the accent on the second syllable – and I knew the answer: ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Oh God, if Pete started blubbering he’d set me off again, too, especially after my outburst in Selfridges.
Displays of affection between us were as rare as classy Christmas number ones. But just because we didn’t show it, it didn’t mean we didn’t care.
‘Ditto,’ I replied.
Pete laughed. ‘How are we both missing that Greek gene that should make us excessively affectionate with our loved ones?’
I pointed at my mug and the plate of biscuits. ‘We show affection with food and drink.’
He nodded.
‘I’m really proud of you, Pete.’
‘Why? I didn’t make thepastichia.I got them from Green Lanes.’
I thumped him. ‘Not about thepastichia. I’m proud that you met an amazing woman and that you had the sense to ask her to marry you. You’ve got this whole love thing sorted and I couldn’t be happier for you.’
‘You’ll find someone too, sis. Once you get your head out of your arse and realise Simon isn’t right for you.’
I stifled a gasp. ‘What are you talking about?’ I had every intention of denying everything, but from the look on Pete’s face – a cross between exasperation and pity – I wasn’t going to brazen this one out. We might never have spoken about it, but he obviously knew all about my feelings for Simon.
‘How much did Alice tell you?’
‘She hasn’t told me anything – she didn’t need to. You’ve always carried a torch for Simon, though I could never for the life of me see why.’
