“Well, when you do, I’ll be your first follower.” She gives me a playful elbow, then she grows serious. “By the way, I’m sorry my dickhead of acousin put you on the spot like that. He means well, but he gets a bit carried away.”
“That’s okay. If he hadn’t been so encouraging, I wouldn’t have gotten on stage.”
“Yeah, he’s good like that—he likes to push people outside their comfort zones.”
From what I’ve seen, I can’t help but agree.
I say goodbye to Daisy and a few others before grabbing my guitar. I linger, hoping to thank Willoughby, but he’s swallowed by the crowd, so I slip outside instead. The night air is pleasant, voices spilling through the open door, the welcoming atmosphere making me feel part of something. Dazed and not quite ready to leave, I lean against the wall beneath the café’s festoon lights.
I can’t believe it. That was me up there. I actually pulled it off. And now this feat I built up in my mind seems strangely small—a mountain that turned out to be a hill once I’d climbed it.
Excitement fizzes through me, and before I even realise it, I’ve pulled out my phone, wanting to tell Brandon first.
To my surprise, there’s a message waiting for me, sent hours earlier.
Brandon:Sorry, I can’t be there tonight. Just in case you play, I wanted to wish you good luck. Let me know how it goes either way
I text back.
Lily-Anne:You’ll never guess. I played tonight!
I follow this with a string of partying emojis.
I only have to wait a few seconds for his response.
Brandon: Really? On stage?
Lily-Anne:Yep. Right at the end
Brandon:Well done, that’s a huge step! It went well?
Lily-Anne:Very well
I mean to keep it short, but before I know it, my thumbs are working madly to describe the song I chose, how it reminded me of Dad, and the fact that I got through it without falling apart. A week ago, it would have felt like oversharing, but not after the past few days. I know Brandon will understand how monumental this is for me.
Brandon:I wish I’d been there to see it
I reread his message several times. I wish he’d been here too. Before I can think of a response, another message arrives.
Brandon:Your dad would be proud. He always was
I swallow hard, staring at the screen. I appreciate how he can say so much with so few words.
Another message appears.
Brandon:Would you like me to send a taxi to get you? Or if you wait, I can come meet you and walk you home
Lily-Anne:I’d rather walk, it’s a nice night. But I don’t want you getting sicker, I’d feel bad
Brandon:I won’t. And I fancy some fresh air
It would be nice to have his company—especially as I’d rather not walk back to the cottage alone in the dark. But after how he reacted to Nova’s song last night, I don’t know how he’d feel about meeting me here. He said it was fine, but the guarded way he spoke about Willoughby and Nova still makes me hesitate.
Lily-Anne:How about we meet halfway? I’ll start walking.
Brandon:Of course. Meet you at the chip shop by the harbour?
Lily-Anne:Chip shop?
