Page 104 of The Next Chapter

‘Yeah, come on, Lola has a bar over here.’

‘Can I have some booze too?’ Harper asks, her and Blake trailing behind us.

‘No.’ Me and Noah answer at the same time.

Lola seems to be both karaoke monitor and barwoman tonight. She’s standing behind a table in the corner, swaying a little to the music. James the silver fox vet is standing next to her. Also swaying. I wonder if there has been another Bertie-based emergency.

I think it’s possible that Lola’s dressed up for the occasion because she’s wearing a skirt, for the first time ever. It’s long and black and it has crescent moons stitched onto it. Her hair is down. Limp and obedient against her tanned shoulders.

‘I’m glad y’all decided to come. What can I get you to drink? We have wine, or there are some beers and soft drinks in the cool box.’

‘Wine please, any colour,’ I say as Noah laughs and gets himself a beer.

Blake and Harper get cokes.

We pay and Lola stores the money in one of those little money tins.

‘It’s busy,’ I say, looking around the room, which is now only vaguely spinning. There are groups of people dotted about, most with their backs to the karaoke, as if that might help to block it out. Half of them are wearing kilts. Locals, then.

‘There are folk from town here. We’re not often full, even in summer. By winter, it’s mostly the odd school group.’

‘School groups?’ I ask.

She nods again.

‘Lola does a reduced rate for kids on free school meals,’ Noah tells us. Course she does, bloody Saint Lola.

‘How lovely.’

‘It’s nothin’.’

‘This is nice and everything, but I thought you were going to sing. That’s what I was told,’ Harper butts in.

‘I don’t think I ever promised that I’d sing.’ I start downing my wine with a vengeance.

‘For what it’s worth, you’re a great singer. I heard her in the shower.’ Noah completely sells me out. Traitor.

The piano is still pushed against the wall and there’s no sign of Lola’s guitar. So at least I don’t have to confront the very particular trauma of watching her play.

‘What about Noah?’ I say, too loudly. ‘Why does he get out of this?’

‘Actually, it’s my song next.’ Noah has a drink.

Harper cackles.

I think I’m possibly the only person who realizes that this is a big deal for Noah, standing up and singing in front of all these people. He’d definitely rather be up a mountain somewhere; he has the blotchy neck of a man suppressing the urge to run to the nearest hill and climb it.

All thoughts of Noah fleeing the scene go out of the window as he takes up the mantle of the mic. Instead, I find myself rapt as I watch Noah self-consciously air guitar his way through a bit of Bon Jovi. He’s not even particularly good, it’s just… it’s the air guitar. It’s freaking hot.

‘I still can’t believe he’s going out with you,’ Harper says. I realize that most people have stopped what they’re doing and are bobbing up and down, cheering Noah. I’m edging ever closer to where he’s singing and when he smiles at me around the mic, I practically melt into a puddle on the floor.

I don’t even have it in me to be insulted by Harper. Because, honestly, same. ‘I know,’ I tell her.

‘I suppose you’re quite funny in your own, strange way.’

I take another big drink of wine as Noah’s song comes to an end. I’m so nervous that I don’t even register that Harper was moderately nice to me there.

Noah finishes and there’s a smattering of applause.