“Not at all,” I said, picking up my cider. We cheersed.
On the stage, “‘Heroes’” dude was winding up.
“I’m going to choose another song,” Ludo said, stumbling out of the chair and disappearing towards the edge of the stage to flick through the song list.
Rafiq sipped at his Coke.
“You boys banging then, bruv?” he asked.
I spat my cider back into my glass, spilling it all over my face, my jeans, and my shirt.
“What makes you say that?”
“The chirps, bruv. You been flirting with each other this whole trip.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I seen it, bruv. With me own eyes. The way you look at each other. I thought you’d been lipsing at least.”
“Absolutely not.”
Rafiq shrugged. “You wanna shoot your shot, fam. He’s bare gassed for you. And I reckon you are for him too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “He’s the competition. Besides, can you imagine me taking him home to meet me mum? I doubt he’s ever been in a council flat in his life.”
“Who you convincing? You’d be great together, fam.”
“Based on what?”
“Chemistry, bruv.”
“Someone’s spiked your drink, mate. You’re high.”
Rafiq shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t die wondering, bruv. I reckon you should shoot your shot.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Rafiq and I were watching Ludo belt out “Angel of the Morning” with what appeared to be choreographed dance moves. Rafiq put his glass down on the table with a thud.
“If I line up a song, will you sing it with me, bruv?” he asked.
“Nooo. I tried to sing in the bath once, and the water undid the plug all by itself, just to get away.”
“You only have to sing theoh oh ohs. That’s the easy part. I’ll do the rest.”
I was uncertain. Rafiq nudged me with his shoulder.
“Do it for Leicester, bruv.”
“Fine, but if people’s ears start to bleed, or if the birds fall out of the sky, or anyone throws a bar stool at us, you’re on your own, OK?”
When it came to our turn, and the opening notes of Billy Joel’s “Uptown Girl” started to play, Ludo shouted “Tune!” and jumped up onstage with us, joining me in theoh oh ohs. Within seconds practically everyone in the pub was dancing and singing along. We bopped and bounced as Rafiq sang the main lyrics and Ludo and I wailed the harmony (if that’s what it’s called). My singing voice, as promised, sounded like someone had wrapped a crow in aluminium foil and run it through with a chainsaw—but I was having an awesome time. Ludo looked so happy, losing himself in the music. As weoh oh ohed, our eyes met, his sapphire blues sparkling like mirrorballs. He smiled, and I smiled back. I threw an arm around his shoulder, and we swayed in unison, microphones in hand. It felt…reallygood to hold him. To feel the warmth of him beside me. In a few short minutes, it was all over. A couple of locals jumped onstage and grabbed the microphones. We returned to our table. I slid into my seat, safe in the knowledge I had not hit a single note, but more confused than ever about my feelings for Ludo.
Chapter25
Ludo
The night air was cold, and the walk back to the B & B was hillier than we’d remembered. The painkillers were wearing off, and with every step, my head throbbed.
