I’m feeling red in the face and just a little bit fractious when I see Mason swing in to the restaurant out of the corner of my eye. I’m delivering drinks to a table who’ve already had the wrong order and I have to give them my full attention, but I still manage to catch that he’s wearing a black shirt and jeans which look mighty fine on him. I really don’t like what that does to my heart rate, but I put it down to the fact that I’m rushed off my feet. He is handsome. God damn his eyes.
My next glimpse of him is ages later. I go to find a couple who’ve been hanging round in the bar patiently waiting for a table to come free. If I were them, I’d have departed long ago and would have gone to another pub. I’ll reward their long suffering with a complimentary bread basket. Such is my power. I note that Shagger is behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, serving drinks. He winks at me in quite a sexy manner and I nod back, curtly. This isn’t one of those films where the heroine, even though in peril, has the time to stop for a flirtation or a snog. I’ve got work to do. The time for fraternising is much later. I wonder if Mason will linger this evening and if we’ll share a convivial drink or two together. Perhaps I’ll risk something stronger than Coke and splash out on a taxi home. Reckless, that’s me.
By the time we’re quietening down towards ten o’clock and I finally have time to breathe, there’s no sign of him. I wander over to the window as casually as I can and check for his car in the car park, but it’s no longer there.
‘Looking for His Highness?’ Charlie asks as she’s tidying up the menus and clearing the Specials board.
‘Stop it,’ I chide, though I feel as guilty as hell. ‘Has he gone?’
‘Yeah. About half an hour ago.’
Bugger. How did I miss that?
‘He had a date to shag a supermodel or something,’ she says over her shoulder.
‘He said that?’
‘No, but it oozed out of every pore.’
Charlie does make me laugh. Apart from anything else, Mason Soames is way out of my league. He’s too young, too handsome, too sophisticated, too rich. And I’d do well to remember that when my tummy flutters every time I see him.
Chapter Twelve
It’s still dark when we get up on Saturday morning at the crack of sparrows for our drive to London. Charlie slept at my place so that we could urge each other out of bed. Although, I took considerably more urging. And Charlie hogged the covers, so I didn’t get that much sleep anyway.
With Gary Barlow on the menu, Charlie was up and raring to go. We are now elbow-to-elbow at the sink in my cramped bathroom. She’s already working her way through Take That hits in a startlingly chirpy manner, also proving that you can sing and clean your teeth at the same time. She’s currently belting out ‘How Deep is Your Love’.
My love for her at this moment in time is definitely not that deep.
‘I never usually get up at this time unless I’m going to catch a flight,’ I mutter under my breath.
‘You’ll be glad that you did when we’re at the front with Gary winking at us and his lush bum is wiggling an inch from my nose.’
Is that to be considered a good thing?
As one, we turn round to look at my new cut-out Gary Barlow, who has taken up residence in the corner of my bedroom. Charlie makes a squeeee noise. ‘You like your present?’
‘Love it.’
‘You’re not just saying that?’
‘He’s fabulous. I’ll tell him all my secrets.’ If I’m truthful, I find it a bit creepy to be sharing my home with cardboard Gary, but I don’t tell Charlie that. It’s the thought that counts, isn’t it? I’ve always liked Kylie, but never thought to buy an effigy of her for my lounge room. It seems that I have, in fact, been a veritable lightweight on the fan scene. Buying an overpriced ticket or two for each tour just doesn’t cut it.
‘￡29.99 off eBay. Bargain. He’ll give you hours of fun. No home should be without one,’ Charlie tells me sagely as she looks wistfully at The Barlow. ‘I get great comfort from him. No licking him though,’ she warns. ‘The ink comes off on your tongue.’
‘Can’t say that was my plan and I’m not even going to ask how you know that.’ I nudge her out of the way so that I can see the mirror. What stares back isn’t looking good, though I simply can’t apply make-up at this time of day as my face might fall off. I’ll have to do that in the queue. I settle for brushing my teeth and a rub of the facecloth round my chops. ‘Couldn’t someone have stood in line for us?’
Charlie gasps. ‘One of the unwritten rules. No one cuts the line. Pushing in is totally bad form. You queue, you do it for yourself.’
Fair enough, I suppose. Though, at this point, I’m wondering why I’m not just going to be sitting on my sofa watching it on telly with a mahoosive glass of red and a bag of Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations. Instead, I’m going to be standing in the dark and – I glance out of the window – rain for most of the day to see a band I like but am not mad keen on. I think better than to voice this.
‘I’ve got T-shirts for us too.’ She toddles off, so I hog the mirror. When she comes back, she’s holding them up. They’re white and have Let it Shine! in silver emblazoned across the front along with lots of spangles.
‘Fabulous.’ She throws mine to me and I pull it over my head. ‘Do you have the world’s largest collection of Take That fangirl T-shirts?’
‘Probably.’ Charlie tugs hers on too. ‘I should start a museum. God, that’d be great.’ She smooths Let it Shine! over her ample bosom and pouts at her reflection. ‘Lovin’ the tee, but it hides my tattoo.’
Charlie has recently had yet another inking. This one is the Take That logo just above her breast and the words Relight My Fire! in fancy script. She has half a dozen or more about her person – there are lyrics to ‘Rule The World’ across her lower back; a friendship bracelet with five beads, one for each of the guys, and a charm featuring Gary’s face hanging from it around her ankle; and his signature graces the inside of her arm along with two kisses. I can’t remember what else but I think they show a certain amount of dedication to the cause.
‘Maybe you’ll get to show him in a private meeting,’ I say, wickedly.
My friend sighs. ‘Wouldn’t that be a thing?’
I’m sure that happy little thought will sustain her all day.
‘Come on, Ruby, we’d better get going. We don’t want to miss out. I had a quick look at the Facebook page and there are people queuing already. Maybe we should have gone straight from work last night.’
I’m not sure I could cope with spending a night on a pavement for anyone.
‘I’ve queued for three days before now just to make sure I get a good spot. It’s madness,’ Charlie adds.
We’re agreed on that.
So I grab a packet of HobNobs to take with us in lieu of breakfast and we jump into Charlie’s car, which appears to be more reliable than mine. Minutes later we’re heading off towards London.
Chapter Thirteen