Page 12 of Matilda’s Summer of New Beginnings

‘But from what I’ve heard,’ I said, deliberately making myself look up into his eyes, primarily to avoid the exposed flesh situation, ‘Cerys is not the Karaoke King.’ Looking in Jay’s eyes was also a mistake. I’m not sure if it was the wine or the immense amounts of sugar I’d consumed that night . . . or something else — but his eyes were dreamy and soft and a little smile was now hovering on his lips and he was focussed on me. Just — on me. I couldn’t stop staring at him.

It was weird. It was as if the world stopped turning for a second — then it juddered sharply back into life as I blinked quickly. ‘Go on.’ My voice came out in a sort of squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘Go on. The crowd is baying for you. You should sing something.’

‘Yeah.’ He blinked as well, and suddenly the moment was gone. I reminded myself that he was Rosie’s brother. And was possibly hung up on someone that topped Charlotte in the romance stakes.

My heart sunk into my Doc Martens boots for a moment as I recalled that.

Dammit.

‘Can you do “Bonfire Heart”?’ I rushed on, trying to ignore the crushing feeling in my boots. ‘By James Blunt? It’s my favourite.’ Then I could have kicked myself because it’s quite an upbeat love song, and no way would Jay sing that for me. No way should he, really.

He smiled. ‘Not sure they have that on the track list. But I’ll sing something you like. I will. And please — think about the quirky ink drawings. I’ll take you on the Prowl myself so you can get an idea of it. Tomorrow, after brunch — we’ll do it then.’ He reached out his hand and quickly squeezed mine, then turned and hurried into the bar.

I stood, frozen to the spot, my hand tingling as if another million volts of electricity had just zinged up it. I wasn’t going to do those illustrations. I just wasn’t.

Nope.

But: ‘Okay,’ I heard myself shouting after him. ‘Okay. I’ll think about it.’

He stopped, and turned, framed in the doorway. There was that smile again.

‘Thanks, Tilds. You’re amazing. Catch you later.’

And then he was in the bar and swallowed up in the baying groupies — many who seemed at least twice Jay’s age as they twittered and fussed around him, directing him to the spot I presumed was used for karaoke evenings.

I looked around, and realized I was alone in the snug. The atmosphere crept up and seemed to hug me, then released me — just in time to hear Jay belting out the first few notes of U2s ‘With or Without You’.

Oh God. I adored that song.

And I’d never heard it sung as good as that — ever.

I’d say he was even better than Bono, but that might show a little bit of bias, and I certainly wasn’t going to be party to that.

‘Nope,’ I muttered to myself again. ‘Nope, nope nope.’

But I knew I was lying to myself.

I was biased.

Very, very biased indeed.

And I think, at that moment, I knew I had fallen for Jay properly — and I’d fallen pretty hard . . .

I blamed the wine. Of course I did, because tomorrow I’d be sober and I’d tell myself Jay was just Jay again, and he liked someone else, and my feelings would go back in the little box I kept them in, and it would be fine.

But a little corner of my heart cackled evilly and I knew that I would have to convince myself that was truly the case.

Chapter Four

On Sunday morning, Rosie and I met her parents as they’d arranged with Jay. Sure enough, there had been a text message on Rosie’s phone when she checked, and so we found ourselves in the tea room beneath our little home for the weekend, enjoying one of Cerys’ famous fry ups.

It was exactly what I needed after an evening of cake and wine, and I tucked into it gratefully, washing it down with two strong Americanos.

I spent a large part of the meal trying to avoid Jay’s eyes though. I know I’d had a lot to drink the night before, but I could still hear him singing and still see him up there smiling and bowing as he finished his songs. And even after a good night’s sleep and all those carbs and caffeine, I knew that something had shifted in the Spatchcock that night and my treacherous little heart was still cackling at my U2-induced Jay-lust. No, my U2-induced extra Jay-lust.

Rosie and Jay’s parents had brought Jay’s card and gifts with them, and as a treat they paid for our meals as well. I tried to insist on paying for my own, but my attempts were waved off by Mrs Rivers.

‘No, no, Matilda. It’s on us. After all, you two made the effort to come all the way down here and see Jay on his birthday — it’s the least we could do.’