She couldn’t pretend she had anything else on. Her stomach contracted into a tight ball.
‘I suppose so.’
* * *
Grace stepped into the bar at the allotted time. She spotted Charlie seated at the counter, talking to a dark-haired woman of around her own age who was serving. She walked towards him.
‘Hey, Grace.’
‘Charlie.’
The woman lifted her head to smile a greeting too, and Grace realised with a jolt that it was none other than Suzie Sessions, who’d been big in Britain back in the eighties, with a unique sound that successfully combined rock and pop. After a string of hits, she’d vanished, and now here she was, in front of her, serving in a bar on a little-known Greek island.
‘Hi, I’m Suzie, can I get you a drink?’
Grace snapped out of her daze.
‘Yes, please, a Mythos.’
The woman passed over the familiar green bottle and a glass. Grace reached for her purse, but Suzie waved it away and smiled.
‘This one’s on the house. Any friend of Charlie’s is a friend of mine. He’s a good boy. Man, I should say. We’re not allowed to call them boys anymore, are we?’
Grace smiled back.
‘No, we’re absolutely not.’
Obviously, Suzie must be nearly forty years older than when she’d been plastered on posters in boys’ bedrooms across the land, but her smile and the twinkle in her eyes were still the same. Her spiky dark hair and petite frame hadn’t changed either.
Grace raised her bottle in the woman’s direction and mouthed ‘Thank you’ before Suzie moved on to serve someone else.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Grace couldn’t wait any longer.
‘What’s Suzie Sessions doing here?’
Charlie took a long slurp of his beer.
‘I just know her as Suzie. I’ve been mates with her sons all my life. I used to spend all my summers on the island, and the three of us are tight.’ He grinned. ‘I mean, I knew their mum was some sort of pop star way back, but it was before I was even born. None of the foreign tourists know who she is, and now it’s just the odd Brit of a certain age who recognises her…’
Grace gave him a playful punch on the arm for that one.
‘Ow. She’s run this bar for well over twenty years, and she just loves music, so there’s something on most nights.’
Charlie jumped off his stool and motioned for Grace to follow him through an archway.
‘Bring your beer. You need to get familiar with the place.’
Grace was desperate to ask some more questions about Suzie but went with Charlie into a large walled space with low brick seating round three sides, open to the elements.
She stood in the middle and looked up and all around. The reason it was called the Star Bar became obvious. There were hundreds of them above their heads, twinkling in the darkening sky.
At one end was a raised platform with a mixing desk. Grace’s heart leapt into her mouth. It was impossible to believe she’d be performing there in a couple of hours. Why had she agreed to do this?
As she was a soul girl through and through, she’d painstakingly put together a set of eighties soul classics with his help. She’d included plenty of Luther Vandross, George Benson and Diana Ross in the mix, but she’d stretched it a little on the timeline for the King and Queen of Soul, Marvin Gaye and Aretha Franklin. As vinyl records had been pushed aside in favour of digital formats, Charlie had programmed everything in for her in advance, but there was still plenty to do.
She’d be going on in the middle of Charlie’s session. What if everyone drifted back to the bar the second one of her records came on?
‘Earth to Grace.’
