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‘Your wish is my command.’
The expression on Scarlet’s face as Marco raised her fingers to his lips told Sophie that Scarlet might just have found her prince.
Chapter Twenty Seven
July was Sophie’s favourite month, not least because it included her birthday. The day of the concert, from its first breath of crystal light bursting through the blinds of her flat above her studio in Wimbledon, promised warmth and exhilaration. As if directed by the concert’s organisers, a cerulean sky, dotted with wisps of spun cotton clouds, had appeared arched over the London rooftops, casting angular shadows over the streets and pavements and lifting its residents’ mood.
But the best thing of all was that Nessa had travelled down from Somersby and they had spent the whole day together, drinking coffee, eating sushi, and exploring the many boutiques and shops in Covent Garden. They hadn’t stopped talking for even a minute, laughing and reminiscing about a wide range of subjects, including previous Razorclaws gigs they’d been to in a variety of venues, and now they were on their way to the most exclusive gig and venue of all to see the band that they had both been fans of from its inception.
‘Hey, girls!’ A bearded stranger leapt out from a shop doorway into their path.
‘Argh!’ Nessa let out a cry of alarm and reached out to grasp hold of Sophie’s arm.
‘Bet you’ve got tickets for The Razorclaws’ gig tonight, haven’t you? Want to sell them? I can go up to seven hundred quid. You won’t get a better deal from anyone else!’
‘No, thanks,’ Sophie said, not daring to meet the man’s eye. She tucked Nessa’s arm through hers, guided her across the road, and then down the narrow alleyway to the stage door of the West End theatre where Noah had assured her their names would be on the backstage guest list.
Sophie checked her watch, unsurprised to see that time had slipped away from them and they were twenty minutes later than she had hoped. She fished in her handbag for their coveted tickets, grateful that she hadn’t known their value beforehand otherwise she would never have been able to relax and enjoy her day with Nessa. She smiled when she thought of how jealous Flora and Lizzie had been when they’d found out she had special backstage passes, and Flora had asked if she would sneak her in under her coat.
‘Ready?’
Nessa straightened the hem of her dress and nodded. ‘Ready.’
A black-suited doorman squinted at them like a hunched vulture eyeing his lunch having forgone breakfast. He took an inordinate amount of time scrutinising their tickets before reluctantly waving them through. A surge of excitement coiled through Sophie’s veins as memories of all the concerts she’d attended with Noah and the band came screaming back. But those gigs in the backrooms and basements of pubs and social clubs around Gloucester and Bristol had been nothing like this.
Sophie glanced down the carpeted corridor to her right, hoping for a glimpse of Noah. She knew he would be waiting in the wings and, despite the awkwardness when she’d spoken to him on the phone the previous night to arrange dinner, she wanted to wish him luck. After their meeting at Somersby Manor, she had spent a lot of time wondering if forgiveness of Noah’s actions would be the route to salvaging some kindof relationship. Hope had been an elusive friend these last few months, but she still retained her belief in its restorative power.
A sudden explosion of music ricocheted around the theatre’s walls, and a group of guys in black tee-shirts pushed past Sophie and Nessa and jumped onto the stage to a resounding roar of approval from the excited audience. The place was so crammed with screaming girls that the wired security team were already prowling the area muttering about fire regulations and ticket fraud. Backstage buzzed with technicians, backing musicians, even a TV crew, and a sprinkling of dignitaries and hangers-on anxious to be seen where the action was.
Sophie spotted a door she assumed was Noah and his friends’ dressing room because someone had attached a huge poster of The Razorclaws to the front. She smiled and turned towards Nessa.
‘Shall we…’
‘I’m sorry, ladies, this is a sterile area. No one goes in, not even the band’s mothers. You’d better go find your seats. Late arrivals will be locked out,’ the guy threatened with a soupçon of glee.
‘But I—’
‘Come on, Soph. Let’s grab a drink in the bar whilst the support band’s playing.’
They made their way from the backstage area to the lobby and up the majestic staircase swathed in plush claret-and-gold carpet, to the Grand Circle bar where they ordered two glasses of prosecco rosé, which were the most expensive glasses of prosecco Sophie had ever purchased.
‘Hey, Nessa? Is that you?’
A gloriously handsome man in his late twenties with bouffant blond hair and startlingly blue eyes strode over to where thegirls were perched on bar stools sipping their drinks. He held his palm outstretched to greet Nessa who smirked at Sophie’s raised eyebrows.
‘Harvey! What are you doing here?’
‘Oh, God, I’m in desperate need of an alcoholic injection of strength to endure the privations of the next hour. I’m here with my niece and two of her schoolfriends. My brother took out a mortgage to pay for the tickets for them to see The Razorclaws and it turns out he’s away on business in Germany tonight so he couldn’t come. I suspect foul play.’ Harvey smiled and tiny dimples appeared in his cheeks like commas around his plump pink lips. ‘I have to admit, I’m surprised to seeyouhere, though. A sporting event at Wembley or Twickenham or Lord’s, yes, but not at a rock gig filled with screaming adolescents! Don’t you see enough of them at school?’
‘Oh, Sophie and I grew up with a couple of the band members. Sorry, Harvey, this is my best friend, Sophie. Sophie, this is Harvey Adams. He was a drama teacher at St Hilda’s before fame came calling and he scooted off to the bright lights of Bristol and beyond.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you, Sophie.’ Harvey lifted her fingers to his lips. ‘Yes, I’m now an actor.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you, too, Harvey.’
Harvey flicked his floppy blond fringe from those bright blue eyes and graced them with his bleached smile. Sophie felt Nessa stiffen at her elbow, knowing she was stifling a chuckle.
‘You may have seen me inDeath on the Severn– the gritty detective series set in Bristol?’
