All these years on, she could see why Isabella Indigo had been a bigger hit in Europe than the UK. There was something of Marie Fredriksson in the vocals, which, while wonderfully strident and heartfelt, were a little out of date in the second decade of the twenty-first century.
As Isabella’s voice continued to boom out of the CD player, Bella found herself dancing and then singing along. She was out of practice, that was true, but gradually, like riding a bike, the words and rhythms came back to her. By the bridge of the first song she was bopping around the kitchen, using the pepper grinder as a microphone and thoroughly getting into this impromptu kitchen disco. Sophie Ellis-Bextor would be proud, she thought wryly.
The key change after the bridge was a bit tricky, but by the time the final couple of verses came around, Bella had hit her stride, belting out the last chorus like a pro. Those top notes were a reach, but as she faced the kitchen window, staring out into the overgrown back garden, she held the last note until the song faded away. Throwing back her head, she couldn’t resist an ironic, ‘Thank you, Somerset!’ before putting the pepper grinder back down on the counter.
‘Wow! You sound amazing!’
The sound of clapping from behind her brought her sharply back to earth and hot waves of mortification poured over her like lava as quickly as the strains of the second song on the album, a slower ballad, began to play. There, standing behind her, a look of amusement on his handsome features, was Noah.
32
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Bella’s embarrassment was so acute that she immediately went on the offensive. ‘I thought you weren’t coming down until next weekend?’
Noah held up his hands, looking guilty. ‘I’m sorry. I texted to let you know I was planning on dropping by today. I was visiting an old friend in Wellington, and the motorway’s closed after an accident, so rather than crawl all the way back to London on the A roads, with the rest of the traffic, I messaged you earlier to see if you’d mind me crashing over tonight.’
‘I never got a message,’ Bella said mutinously. ‘Oh, shut up!’ She hurried over to the CD player and ejected the CD. Then, blushing, she saw Noah’s message on her notifications. ‘It must have just come through,’ she muttered. ‘What time did you send it?’
‘About two hours ago.’
‘Ah.’ Now it was Bella’s turn to look guilty. ‘My phone died this morning, and I hadn’t bothered to charge it until just now.’ She looked up at him. ‘Sorry.’
‘No problem.’ Noah’s smile was distinctly amused. ‘I quite enjoyed the impromptu concert. You could be a soundalike for that singer, whoever she is. I couldn’t tell the difference.’ He reached for the CD case, but Bella was quicker. She grabbed it and shoved the CD back into it. ‘Careful, you’ll break it.’
‘Wouldn’t matter,’ Bella said shortly. ‘No one’ll miss it.’
‘Can I see?’ Noah reached out a hand towards the CD, but Bella kept an iron grip on it.
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
Brow crinkling, Noah looked confused. ‘Look, I’ll admit to having far worse things than that in my old collection – there was a reason I ditched most of my CDs when streaming came along.’
‘You ditched your CDs?’ Bella laughed, despite her embarrassment. ‘What happens if the world ends and there’s no more internet?’
‘When the apocalypse comes, I’ll make sure I’m hanging out here.’ Noah joined in the laughter, and Bella felt some of her embarrassment subsiding. Until Noah caught sight of the cover art of the CD case again. Looking from the CD to Bella, a silence extended between them.
‘Hang on a minute… Isabella Indigo…’ His brow furrowed again, this time in recognition. ‘Bella… areyouIsabella Indigo?’
Bella gave a short, nervous shake of her head. ‘Don’t be daft! What would Isabella Indigo be doing standing in your grandpa’s kitchen?’
‘No, hang on a minute.’ Noah looked at her again. ‘You are, aren’t you? This is you.’
Bella knew the game was up. She let out a long sigh. ‘All right, all right. Thatwasme. Not any more.’
‘I’m guessing you didn’t reach Taylor Swift levels of stardom, then, if you’re working at Mollie’s and in the pub.’ Noah’s gentle smile belied the teasing tone of his words, but Bella bristled.
‘What is it about people? If you’re not Taylor Swift, then you’re not anyone?’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Noah replied, looking contrite. ‘It seems odd, that’s all, that, having been successful enough to have an album, this is where you are now.’
‘It’s a tough business,’ Bella said. ‘It takes a lot to break through, especially in the UK and the US. I never really conquered either, I’m afraid, but I was quite big in Sweden and Denmark once!’ Despite her irritation, she felt a smile slip through, and Noah smiled back at her, obviously relieved.
‘So, do you sing any more?’
‘Only when there’s no one else around! Let’s just say that being dropped by your record label doesn’t do wonders for your self-esteem.’
‘But you sound great,’ Noah countered. ‘Even in the kitchen.’
‘Thanks.’
