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At which they both burst out laughing.
Sure, it was childish, Carts thought as they made crazy swirls on top of their chocolate mousse and wiped tears of laughter out of their eyes, but there was something cathartic about discussing his childhood with Judith in a way he’d never talked about it before.
The ambient background music stopped and suddenly the sound of their spoons scraping their dishes was inordinately loud.Judith got up and went over to her phone.“What would you like to listen to?”
Why not admit it.“I’m a huge fan of eighties music.I collect vintage LPs.”
“Wow, really?There’s something so romantic about records isn’t there?”
“Yeah, that magic circle of black vinyl.You hold it in your hands, dust it down, place it on the turntable.It’s a ritual.And then you sit back, and the music sounds so much better.It’s a whole body/mind thing.”
Judith glanced up from checking out Spotify.“What’s your favourite band from the eighties?”
“Don’t make me choose.The early eighties was a revolutionary time, punk rock, the New Romantics, bands like Ultravox—have you heard ‘Vienna’?”
She shook her head.
“Oh, man, have you a treat in store.You have to sit in a dark room, smoking Gauloises cigarettes—I don’t smoke, but if I did I’d be puffing away at a Gauloises—and look deep and brooding.”
She laughed.“I can see it now.I really love the boppy eighties songs and the look—all that fluffy hair and shimmery blue eyeshadow.Oooh, remember Madonna’s pointy tits?”She tapped her chin, her cheeks pinking up.“‘Like a Virgin’.And there’s another I loved… ‘Manic Monday’, who wrote that one?”
“The Bangles.They were such an underrated band.Their album,Different Lightwas an absolute classic.”
“You know so much about music.Do you play an instrument like Avery?”
“Nah, but I mime well.I do a fantastic guitar solo of Mark Knopfler.It’s my party piece.”
“I didn’t see you perform it at your thirtieth.”
He coughed into his fist.“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to make an idiot of myself in front of someone special.”
“It would really impresssomeonein this room if you did a rendition now.”
Bashful, he bit his lip.
“Oh come on,” she teased.“I’ve always found Mark Knopfler kind of sexy to be honest.”
So of course, that was Carts’ cue to do his rendition of Mark Knopfler, hair flopping over his eyes as he mimed the words to “Money for Nothing” on an imaginary guitar in perfect synch to the music.He stopped halfway through a chord, flicked his fringe out of his eyes and said, “You know Sting was in this, don’t you?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, listen, I’ll play it again.”He replayed it and they both listened intently.“Hear that?At the start, the high notes—that’s Sting.”
“Oh yes, I can hear him now.”She looked wistful.“My all-time favourite song of Sting’s is ‘Fields of Gold’.Was that written in the eighties?”
“No, it was released in 1993.”
She giggled, “I can’t believe you know that.”
“Accountant brain, good with numbers,” he muttered with a sheepish grin.
“Do you like it?”
“Do I what!I tear up every time I hear it.I don’t know why but it always hits me right—” he pressed a curled fist to his chest, “in here.”
He cast her a quick glance but saw nothing but admiration in her eyes.A woman, finally, who didn’t judge him when he admitted he cried.Though he might have to know her better before he fessed up to shedding tears the first time he watchedET.
“Let’s play it.”Her eyes shone and he knew he’d go to the end of the earth to keep that light alive in her eyes.
