Confessions Of A Karaoke Queen (25 page)

Hey Mads, how’s things, was thinking of u this wkend. Can we meet? L x

I stare at it for a few seconds, baffled.

Lawrence?
Really?

This is odd. After I was so unceremoniously dumped, I didn’t think there’d be reason for us ever to be in touch again. Clearly he’s decided to extend the olive branch, but, looking at the message again, I’m not sure it’s that simple. I’m confused by the wording and don’t know how to reply. Rather than fire back something I’ll later regret, I stuff it into my bag and carry on walking.

When I get back to the club, a couple of burly blokes are taking measurements for the new wall mirrors we’re having
fitted. Some of the themed tables we purchased have been delivered and there’s a woman with a very tight bun issuing bossy styling instructions. She’s wearing a nice dress I saw last month in Karen Millen but couldn’t afford.

The crew are in evidence, as always, trailing Jaz and Alex around as they get things ready for tonight. Alison and Toby are chatting in a corner – he’s gesticulating wildly but it’s impossible to hear what they’re saying.

‘Hey, guys,’ I say, tossing my bag down on the bar. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Alex has come up with the best idea for a theme night!’ Jaz grins, scooping up Andre and holding him out for me to see. She’s wearing a dress that looks like it’s made from sweet wrappers, and miniature red-and-white candy canes swing from her earlobes.

‘Um … guinea pig theme?’ I hazard, praying I’m wrong.

‘No,’ she says, like I’m being stupid, ‘who does he
look
like?’

Andre blinks at me.

‘
Beauty and the Beast
?’ It’s the first fairy tale that comes to mind.

Jaz clasps him to her chest, offended on his behalf. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Sorry, Andre,’ I tell him, knowing it won’t be enough just to apologise to Jaz. ‘Go on, please. Enlighten me.’

She beams across at Alex, who smiles back. When his eyes meet mine, the smile drops. ‘The Bee Gees!’ Jaz announces gleefully. ‘Everyone loves the Bee Gees, don’t they?’

‘I guess …’ I frown, ‘but what’s that got to do with Andre?’

‘Barry Gibb!’ She thrusts him out again. ‘You see it?’

I peer in closer. Andre’s wearing a little blue sparkly waistcoat, there’s nothing unusual about that, but now she mentions it there is a look of the lion-haired Gibb about him. She’s coiffed his barnet at the front (god knows how: with a pipe cleaner?) and it’s smooth and shiny as candle wax.

‘You guys are getting on well, then?’ I ask, looking between her and Alex and feeling just a little bit worried.

‘Of course we are!’ Pleased as punch, Jaz drops Andre back in his box and runs a cloth across the bar, humming to herself.

I’m rooting around in my bag to text Lou back when Nick emerges from the store. My heart thumps once, hard – I hadn’t expected to see him today. He’s wearing a dark green jumper, jeans and Converse, his hair messy and his eyes tired. Nathan trails moodily behind, his feet scuffing the floor like a sulky kid who’s just had his Xbox taken away. When Nick sees me he gives a brief, nervous smile.

‘Hi.’

‘All right?’

‘Yep.’

I feel Jaz looking at us and she not-so-surreptitiously jabs Alex in the ribs before dragging him off. My palms are so clammy it’s making my phone feel like a bar of soap.

‘You look knackered,’ I say, trying the light-hearted approach but realising too late that it probably sounded rude.

‘Yep.’ He shoves his hands in his pockets and I see a muscle clench and relax in his jaw.

‘What’ve you been up to?’

‘Not much.’

‘D’you have time to grab a tea or something?’

He clears his throat. ‘Um, not now. Sorry.’

Wow, he really can’t look at me. He’s looking everywhere
but
at me – the floor, the ceiling, the walls, his own feet. I’m about to put both of us out of our misery and drift off on the pretext of making a phone call when we’re mercifully interrupted (if silence can be interrupted) by the rumble of footfalls on the stairs.

Rob Day emerges, his face flushed. Nick, sensing an opportunity to exit, dives off. I try not to think too much about what this means, or the significance of whatever disastrous encounter just happened. What the hell is his problem?

‘Rob!’ Jaz reappears and puts her arms round him. ‘We haven’t seen you in ages!’

Alex looks confused, before remembering that Rob is Ruby and Ruby is Rob. When we first explained it to him he couldn’t get his head round it. It took about half an hour and a very patient Jaz to force him to understand.

‘Can I grab a word?’ Rob asks me quietly so the cameras can’t hear – luckily Alison and Toby are too busy bickering.

‘Ooh, that sounds juicy.’ Jaz slinks away, mouthing to me on her way past, ‘Tell me later.’

‘Sure.’ I’m hoping whatever Rob has to say will distract me from Nick’s presence hovering in the corner of my vision. For some stupid reason I feel like crying.

‘There’s someone upstairs for you – I didn’t want to draw attention to it.’ Rob glances quickly at the cameras.

‘Who?’

‘Follow me.’

I trail behind him up the steps and into the hall, where
there’s a stack of unopened letters languishing on the mat. The front door is open and standing outside, leaning against the wall opposite, one foot crossed over the other ankle, is Lawrence.

He’s wearing a primrose-coloured polo shirt with the collar sticking up. I always used to find that really preppy, and am glad to realise I no longer fancy him in the slightest.

‘We, er, ran into each other on the way over here,’ says Rob, giving me an apologetic sort of smile. ‘I said I’d come find you.’

I nod to let him know it’s OK, and with a final anxious glimpse at Lawrence, he ducks back inside.

Lawrence holds his arms out. ‘Come here, Mads, it’s been ages.’

‘Hi,’ I say, determined to be friendly but not up for physical contact quite yet. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m great,’ he grins widely, ‘never been better.’

He’s had his teeth whitened, I think. And his hair looks different: it’s still floppy and Hugh Grant-y but it’s been put in rollers at the front like Raef from
The Apprentice
.

I stay where I am.

‘Mads,’ his smile doesn’t falter, arms still outstretched, ‘you’re not going to leave me hanging, are you?’

There’s a kerfuffle behind me and I can hear Alison’s clunky boots making their way upstairs. Perfect.

‘Alison, this is private. Can you leave us to it?’

I turn to Lawrence with a sorry-about-this expression, expecting him to look as awkward as I feel, but instead he’s … well, the word that springs to mind is
preening
. He smooths a hand over his hair and pouts a little. Hang on, is he wearing
make-up? I swear his eyelashes look longer and darker than normal, and there’s an unnatural plasticky sheen to his skin. He bends one leg and nonchalantly rests a boater-shoed foot flat against the wall, turning his face to one side. In profile, the picture looks like a moody album cover. But it’s less Morrissey and more Brother Beyond.

‘Yah,’ he drawls, waving the camera away, ‘Maddie and I need to talk.’

‘Lawrence, this isn’t a good time,’ I say. ‘Could we catch up tomorrow or something? There’s stuff I need to do.’

Now he turns to me, offended. ‘Oh. Right. Sorry.’ His eyes flit over to Alison and he readjusts his pose. ‘I guess you’re too busy now for old friends.’

‘What?’ I almost laugh. ‘That’s not true.’

‘Too famous, then?’ He smiles a little, which stops the comment being downright rude, but it’s out of order all the same. He’s put me on the spot and he knows it.

‘Of course not,’ I say, flustered. ‘I just don’t know if … well, you’ve caught me at an awkward time, that’s all.’ I nod subtly to Alison, hoping he’ll catch on, but at the same time I’ve a niggling feeling that might be precisely the reason he’s here.

‘Did you get my text?’ he demands.

‘Yeah. About ten minutes ago.’

‘I couldn’t wait for your response,’ he announces dramatically. ‘I had to be here.’

‘You did?’

‘I did. Mads, you’ve got to hear me out.’ Serious now, Lawrence comes towards me, his expression earnest. ‘I’ve been working up to this for weeks.’

I back away, worried. ‘Working up to what?’

‘This.’

Oh. My. God.

Lawrence has dropped to his knees. I kid you not. He’s on his knees, right there in the street in the middle of Soho, gazing up at me like an abandoned pet. Before I have time to object, he grabs my hands.

‘I never had the guts before now, Maddie. Please listen to what I have to say.’

I’m struck dumb. I must be looking at him like he’s gone completely insane, but even if I am it doesn’t put him off his stride.

‘I made a mistake.’ He shuts his eyes, bows his head. ‘A terrible, terrible mistake.’

Alison’s blinking red light hovers in my peripheral vision, but I’m unable to pull away. All I can think of is how Lawrence’s stance and countenance mirrors exactly a production I saw him in once at The Globe.

‘Er … you did?’

Solemn, he nods. ‘I did.’ The words barely escape, his voice is so choked with emotion.

I’m about to say something, but after a protracted pause Lawrence gets there first. I have the impression that I don’t actually need to be here: this is a monologue, and I could just as easily be a chair, or a hat stand.

‘I should never have broken up with you.’ He winces at the memory. ‘
Never
. It was stupid of me, a flight of caprice, an error of the highest order. It was …’ Lawrence seems to sniff at the air, like a perfumier searching for that final note, ‘
misguided
.’

The eyes open, brimming with tears. ‘I said some things I regret, god knows I did, Mads. I lie awake every night,
torturing myself over and over, lonely and frightened and calling your name … just lying awake and thinking through those tangled emotions and how they tricked me, tricked
us
, and I
wish
, oh, how I wish I could turn back the clock and make things different. Mads, I wish I knew then what I know now.’

I’m one step off laughing. This needs to stop before the chest-beating begins.

‘Lawrence, I don’t think this is—’

‘And what I know now,’ he blathers, ‘is that you …
you
are the love of my life.’

‘Erm … I am?’

He shoots up, clasping my hands to him. ‘That’s right! I said it. Think of me what you will, I know I am flawed. I know there are things I can change, things I can do to make you believe in my lasting affection. But I’m human, Mads – I am only a man. And this human – this man – is telling you right here, right now, that he still loves you.’

Oh.

He’s gazing at me, full of expectation.

‘I thought you were going out with Francesca Montgomery.’ It’s the first thing that pops into my head.

‘That’s over now.’ Lawrence searches my eyes. ‘It was over from the start – I was only seeing her to get over you. And once I realised how I felt, I called it off without hesitation. I couldn’t live a lie a moment longer.’

I stare at him.

‘Mads, can you find it in your heart to give me another chance?’

I turn to Alison, camera strapped to her like a lifejacket.
‘Show’s over,’ I tell her. ‘Go back downstairs, I’ll be with you in a sec.’

‘But this is—’

‘We’ll talk about it later. And it’s not making the edit, by the way.’

Alison pouts and slinks off, muttering something I can’t make out.

‘So you get to decide what goes in the show?’ Lawrence asks as soon as she’s gone.

‘Um, sort of.’ I rub my forehead.

‘Maybe we should go inside,’ he suggests, peering past me into the club. Then he looks up at the perfectly blue sky. ‘You never know, it might rain.’

‘Listen, Lawrence,’ I say, ‘I’m really flattered you’ve had this change of heart. I just … I mean, no offence, but I’ve moved on. And I think you were right in the things you said when we split – well, some of them, anyway. We’re too different, I can see that now. And for me there’s no going back. I’m sorry, really. It’s best if you go.’

He blinks once or twice, as though he hasn’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about, before slipping back into character.

‘But there has to be a way,’ he pleads. ‘You’re doing so well now, I can really see things changing for us. There was never that balance before’ – he chuckles lightly, remembering the good old days – ‘I was doing well and you … well, you weren’t really doing
anything
, were you? But now we can be like partners, allies, helping each other to realise our dreams. Can’t you see how great that would be?’

His logic confounds me. ‘No, Lawrence, I can’t.’

‘Tell me you haven’t stopped loving me,’ he chokes.

Uh, this is awkward. I prepare to say something diplomatic but he beats me to it, pressing a finger against my lips.