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CHAPTER NINE
‘HOW DID YOU KNOW that this is my favourite band?’ Seb, Daisy was learning, was not a huge one for words. If someone arranged a surprise for Daisy she found it hard to sit back and wait; instead she would be peppering them with questions, trying to guess where they were going, slightly anxious it wasn’t going to live up to her own fevered imaginings.
Seb had just looked bemused, as if the concept of a surprise trip was completely alien to him. Which was ridiculous. He might not want high emotions or romance but he’d had girlfriends before—had none of them ever organised a day out? To a special library or a site of special historical significance?
But even his slightly annoying calm and collected manner had disappeared when the taxi pulled into the concert venue.
‘Seriously, Daisy. You must be some kind of witch.’ His hand sought hers and squeezed, his touch tingling. For a brief moment she allowed herself to fantasise that this was real, that she was on a night out with someone she was mad about, with someone who was mad about her.
‘Yes, I am. My spells include listening to the music that people play and reading the labels on CD collections.’ She couldn’t help it, music had been such a huge part of her childhood she subconsciously noticed whatever music was playing although she didn’t play an instrument herself and rarely listened to music for pleasure, preferring silence as she worked.
But Seb liked background noise whether in the kitchen, his study or driving around and when she had been searching the internet, trying to find something to do tonight, the name had jumped out at her—it had been the CD he was playing that very first night. One call to her father later and VIP seats had been procured.
But it had evidently been the perfect gift. Daisy was torn between shame that all she had managed was a last-minute, hastily organised event and a sneaking fear that maybe she knew him better than she had realised, than she wanted to admit.
Knew exactly what would make him happy. That would involve caring. Was that part of their deal?
Seb was evidently not having any deep thoughts or misgivings. It was fun to see him enjoying every moment like a child set free in a toy shop as they were led through the plush VIP area. ‘A box? Seriously?’
‘You may have the title but I am rock aristocracy and this is how we experience concerts,’ she told him as they took their seats. ‘If you would prefer to stand on the beer-covered floor with all the other sweaty people then you can. Your wristband allows you access.’
She could tell he was tempted. Daisy had never understood the allure of the mosh pit herself.
‘Maybe later. You wouldn’t mind?’
She shook her head. ‘Knock yourself out.’
He looked around in fascination and Daisy tried to see it through his eyes, not her own jaded viewpoint. They were the only occupants of a box directly opposite the stage. Behind them was a private room complete with bar and cloakroom. The entire row was taken up with similar boxes for celebrities and friends and family of the band; corporates were restricted to the row above. Access to their coveted seats was strictly controlled.
‘This is crazy.’ Seb was staring at the aging rock star and his much-younger girlfriend enthusiastically making out in the next-door box. Daisy sat back; she hoped the rock star hadn’t seen her. She’d been flower girl at his third wedding—and his new girlfriend looked younger than Daisy herself. ‘I’ve been to plenty of events, literary events, historical conferences, Oxford balls but never anything like this.
‘But I would have been just as happy on the beer-soaked floor with the other sweaty people,’ he said. He meant it too.
‘I’m spoiled,’ she admitted. ‘Dad gets tickets to everything and always took us along. I’d been to more concerts than films by the time I was ten. He drew the line at boy bands though. That’s probably why they remain my own guilty pleasure. But I haven’t done anything like this for ages.’
‘Why not? If I had free access to gigs I’d go to everything!’
He wouldn’t. Not with the high price tag. ‘I don’t usually like to ask for favours. Mum can get me anything, the new must-have bag or coat or dress—but the deal is you get photographed wearing it. If, like me, you want a quiet life then the price for a freebie is far too high. But tickets for this sold out months ago so it was best seats in the house or nothing!’
Daisy crossed her fingers, hoping that they weren’t papped while they were here. There were far more gossip-worthy couples out in force; hopefully the spotlight would be far from them.
