By the time we arrive at the bar, I’m so excited I can barely keep still. This hodgepodge group has a lot of differing opinions, to put it mildly, but the one thing they’re united on is how much I’m going to enjoy this gig, and that I should definitely take a chance on Bram. Their excitement– their pride– is contagious, and if I hadn’t already been taken in by everything I’ve seen of him this weekend, I think spending these couple of hours with the founding members of the Liam Bramwell Fan Club might have tipped me over the edge.
I’m so hyped up that I don’t notice Jon at first, and when I finally do see him, I’m not sure how that was possible. In his taupe shirt and blue jeans, he sticks right out, just like I do, but unlike me, he isn’t shielded by his own personal goth protection racket. I duck behind Peggy’s enormous dress as we pass, and she reaches an arm out and tucks me close into her side.
‘I don’t know who you’re hiding from,’ she mutters, ‘but I’m on it.’
And I think that’s the exact moment I fall irrevocably in love with this crazy family.
‘That man in the smart shirt and jeans,’ I say, once we’re a safe distance away, and that makes her pull away a little, her hands going to her hips as her brow creases in a frown and shescans for the man in the smart shirt and jeans. ‘Is he a problem?’ she asks, deadly serious. ‘Because just say the word and I’ll unleash Sean on him.’
I look at Sean– lovely, mild-mannered Sean in his Megadeth T-shirt and tapered jeans. He doesn’t look like he could fight a plastic bag, and the confusion must be evident on my face, because the lines of Peggy’s face soften, and she chuckles, lace-covered hands squeezing my arm lightly.
‘He’s a lawyer. Criminal prosecution. He can be very threatening when he needs to be.’
I have to laugh. ‘It’s not like that, but thank you. He’s actually my boss, so I have to at least fake being nice to him.’
‘Just say the word,’ Peggy says with a wink, and then she hurries me along the corridor, behind the others.
When I chance a look back, Jon is scanning the crowds walking in. He’s waiting for someone, and I assume that someone is me. But then, given his form in the last couple of days, it could be Amy too, or Lord knows who else.
Thank God I saw that kiss in the bandstand.
Peggy takes my hand and guides me into the main room of the bar, a stage set up at the far end and a vague hum of electricity in the air. Our group finds a space close to the stage, just off to the right. Bram catches my eye from behind the bar and his wink has me biting my lips, cheeks flushing like a teenager.
‘This is our spot,’ Wladek tells me, his newly inserted fangs lisping his speech slightly.
We wait, chatting amiably, the excitement growing and building in the room as it fills. Occasionally someone will see someone else they know and shriek their name across the room, waving excitedly and pointing them out for me to look at. A young woman, pierced in so many places I can’t count, taps me on the shoulder and tells me that she loves my jumper.
I shouldn’t fit in here. It makes no sense at all. Yet somehow, I feel like I do.
There’s a buzz of community in the air, a shared excitement for this concert, which picks me up and carries me along as it goes, and by the time the room is full, I’m just as pumped up as any of them. I can’t wait for it all to begin.
Jon finds me after the soundcheck, just as I’ve let my guard down. He leans in to kiss me on the cheek, and I’m too slow to avoid it without making a scene, so I just smile, clenching my fingers into a fist as the scent of his aftershave overwhelms me.
‘Ey up, Fluff,’ he says, leaning into my ear as if to be heard, even though it’s not particularly loud in the room at this point. I catch Peggy glaring at him over his shoulder.
‘Jon.’
His face tugs into a grin. It’s the kind of grin that used to spark a riot of butterflies in my stomach, but now it just leaves me cold. ‘I finally found you.’
‘You did.’ I smile politely, nodding to the others, who have assembled in an arc around us. ‘These are my friends.’ I point to them in turn. ‘This is Nigel, and Sean, and Peggy. And this is Wladek, but you can call him Vl?—’
‘Don’t call him Vlad!’ the others chorus, and it makes me burst out laughing.
‘It is the same name in my language,’ Wladek grumbles, flicking his cape over his shoulder. ‘I really don’t see what the big deal is here.’
Jon’s just looking at us all like he hasn’t got a clue what’s going on, and I haven’t got the energy to explain it to him.
Actually, it’s more than that. It’s that I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to know anything about this weird and wonderful weekend that I’m having, about these crazy, beautiful souls that I’ve met, about the way that something turns over in my chest when one of those souls in particular kisses me.
But there is something that Idowant him to know.
‘I changed my mind about the article,’ I say, meeting his eyes with a confidence I don’t quite feel.
That gets his attention. ‘Oh?’
‘I’m going back to the original plan.’ My throat feels tight, but it’s important that I get this out. ‘I’m writing a review of the weekend as a whole, just the way Mina wanted. No scandal, just a love letter to Whitby and this community.’
He doesn’t reply, but I see one eye twitch the way it does when he’s annoyed by something but trying not to show it. It goes against every people-pleasing instinct I have, but it’s important to me, so I hold my nerve.