On the screen, the camera panned around until Pasha saw himself sitting at the station café table beside Mandy.
“That,” Anya said, sounding certain, “Is why you two can do whatever you want.”
Pasha shook his head. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look,” she insisted. “Watch it again all the way through to the end, then you’ll see why there’s no way management will mess with you for ignoring their instructions.”
He studied the footage closely from the start to the finish, taking in details he hadn’t noticed at the time of recording. The camera had caught him smiling at Ed with such open affection. It was a different expression to the planned exchange of staged looks that had filled the first few weeks of their deception. He saw himself mouthing words he had no recollection of singing, and noticed how, as the song progressed, he leaned away from Mandy, drawn in Ed’s direction.
Goosebumps rose on his forearms in this London kitchen, just as they had in a Cornish station café when Ed sang wordswishing for home so clearly. Anya pointed out what he hadn’t noticed before. She nudged his elbow and asked, “See?”
Ed had started by singing to a little girl all right, and he’d walked among tables crowded with weary travelers, but he kept coming back to Pasha as if he were a sun to circle.
The song ended with the applause Pasha remembered, but much louder than that was the voice of whoever had uploaded this video. The picture blurred, focusing on the tabletop for a moment as someone said, “If they don’t both go through this week, I won’t believe it’s not fixed.”
“And that,” Anya said after pausing the recording, “means management will ignore all those rules you broke by following Ed down to Cornwall. If they boot you out, they’ll have a riot on their hands right before the semifinals, just when they’ll want all the attention on whoever it is they plan to get through.”
She pulled the laptop closer and clicked the play button again. This time, the footage was muffled by the scrape of chairs and loud chatter as people resumed their seats. The last few seconds were filled with the same voice as before.
“I can’t wait till Saturday. Can you?” Another voice murmured muffled words that sounded like agreement. “And did you see the way Ed sang just for Pasha? No way was any of that an act like it says in the papers.” Her last words were certain. “Not for Ed, at least. That man’s so head over heels in love, you’d have to be blind not to see it.”
17
ED
Ed stood at the side of the stage with his left arm around Anya’s shoulders midway through the semifinals. Her tension wasn’t visible, but he felt her tremble as the final lighting adjustments were made between songs. Her earpiece hung from a curl of cable dangling over her collar. It swung in agitated circles that said far more about her state of mind than her serene expression. He leaned down and pushed aside the dandelion fluff of her hair before saying, “You’re going to be great.”
Her elbow was a sharp poke under his ribs. “You’re meant to say ‘break a leg,’ you knob. Besides—” Her shoulders straightened as a single, intense spot of light tracked across the stage to meet a mark taped at its dead center. “—I’m not worried. I think the boy band used up all the bad luck tonight.”
“Mmm.” Ed’s gaze drifted to the control box. “The Auto-Tune failing like that was terrible.” It had most likely been accidental, but he saluted slowly anyway, sending silent thanks he pictured flying upward. “Thought Ciaran might sing solo to save them. Shame he didn’t even try to.”
“Tragic,” Anya agreed, not sounding sorry for a single minute. “Funny how it didn’t fail for you, but then again, it’s not like you ever need its help.” She pressed closer to Ed when stagehands approached pushing laden trolleys. After they had passed, she didn’t seem in any hurry to move away. In fact, she gripped his forearm tightly. “It’s Sod’s law that tonight is the first time it’s been temperamental.” She let out a laugh that had an edge of shrillness. “Shit, why is my voice so shaky?”
“Come here.” Ed shuffled her into the circle of his arms as her trembling increased. “You’re not scared—you’re excited. You’re going to knock everybody’s socks off and give me and Pash a real run for the prize money.”
He almost missed the next few words she said.
“You’re going to make up with him, aren’t you?”
He took a moment before answering. “We’re fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
The curtain blocked their view of the audience, but occasional calls of their names—Pasha! Ed! Anya!—led to chanting and clapping. Anya twisted and then held his gaze. A thinly penciled black line emphasized the beautiful upturn of her eyes, and Ed found it impossible to lie under their frank inspection, especially when she said, “You can fool them”—she nodded toward the curtain shielding them from the public—“but don’t try that bollocks with me.”
A production assistant tapped her on the shoulder. “On your mark, Anya.”
Anya nodded before looking at Ed again. The crystals glued to her cheeks glittered like tiny diamonds as she spoke. “Talk to him. I don’t know what happened, but I do know something’s up between you. Talk, before it’s too late.”
He turned the wordstoo lateover in his head as Anya walked toward her mark.
Too late, because #TrueBrit was about as real as the Loch Ness Monster?
Ortoo late, because either of them could be sent home tonight for good?
That was the question that led to his stomach suddenly sinking. The last two days had been a haze of last-minute rehearsals with barely a minute spare to think about how they’d left things between them. It had helped to be surrounded by choreographers who tutted over his two left feet, and professional voice coaches who worked with him to enhance his performance, parroting advice Pasha had given for free. Now, as Anya got ready to sing, that second option had his insides twisting.
Dancers knelt at Anya’s feet as if she was their goddess before they launched her upward. Ed’s heart was in his mouth when her knees almost buckled. In that one heart-stopping second before she recovered, she looked as vulnerable as the day he’d bought her coffee and cake.