Louder applause this time, more people joining in with Jess and Luc’s screams.
‘It’s one of my personal favourite songs, and it has such an intimate feel. From the moment we heard the final version, we couldn’t wait to film a music video for it.’ I gesture to the screen behind me. ‘Which you are going to see in a moment.’
More applause.
‘Yours, Sieis a really special song to me,’ I continue.
I find Luc in the crowd and lock my eyes on his. I’ve always felt at home behind a microphone, but today it feels different. I’m out of my comfort zone getting personal like this.
‘It’s one of those songs which I wrote in this fever haze in the middle of the night.’
My eyes drift to Jess and she nods, encouraging me to continue. I find Luc again.
‘Yours, Siewas written about someone really special. Someone who, when I wrote this song, I hadn’t spoken to in– for a very long time. It was a song where I wrote down everything I wanted to tell him. Firstly because I couldn’t tell him, and secondly because I knew, deep down, that I shouldn’t have run like I did.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I want to admit something to you all. However many years ago when I sat on Eric Lancaster’s sofa just afterInfinite Ghostwas released, Itold the world I wrote it about those people who “blow in and out of your life”.’
Luc’s mouth parts, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. The room laughs. It’s a room full of my friends. My family. My team. People who know me, as well as a few who don’t. People who have always known this to be a lie I told to protect myself. But the people on the internet watching this, the people watching the livestream on Jess’s phone from my account, won’t know that.
‘Infinite Ghostwas a song I wrote about myself. I was the person who blew in and out – mostly out, if I’m honest – of people’s lives.’ Another deep breath. Swallow the lump in the back of my throat. ‘On that day, the day I told you all the lie on Eric Lancaster, I met a junior writer called Luc Nicholls.’
A collective gasp from the wider crowd.
I swallow again, a pause. A reminder to myself of why I’m doing this. I recite the speech I wrote from memory, trying to float up out of my body, like someone else is saying it.
‘Luc Nicholls became someone very important to me.’ A crack in my voice, and I clear my throat away from the microphone, buying myself some time to swallow down my emotions. ‘No matter how many times, how hard I tried to run, something else kept bringing us back together.’ I don’t take my eyes off him. ‘Invisible string theory.’
Did Luc just wipe his eye?
‘I wroteYours, Siewhen we hadn’t spoken for many years. And it’s not the only one of my songs written about Luc.’ I pause and let a smile tug at my lips. ‘If you dig deep enough, you’ll find a few – at least – on every album, sinceInfinite Ghost.’ I finally look away, begging the tears not to come. ‘Many of you will now know that Luc has once again blown back into my life, but I’m not blowing out of his again.’ My eyes are locked on his. ‘That is a promise.’
The crowd erupts into applause.
The backing track ofYours, Siestarts playing and the videostarts on the projected screen behind me. A bit like a school assembly. I open my mouth and start singing.
The loneliness is subsiding.
When the song ends, I leave the stage straight away. There’s nothing I can do to stop the tears from rolling down my face. Fuck. I didn’t think it was going to get me that much. The speech. The song. It’s enough to completely finish me off.
I’ve blown into Luc Nicholls’s orbit, and I don’t ever want to climb out.
I head straight towards him, ignoring hands, requests for interviews, friends and family. I fall straight into his arms. And he kisses me. Everyone is watching us.
I don’t want to pull away, but when I do, his eyes are fixated on mine, his pupils dilated into black discs. He rests his hand on my cheek, and then I’m pulled away from him. A work event that demands my full attention.
He doesn’t go far all night, letting me give him whatever attention I have free to give. Making sure he’s always there if I turn around and need him.
And he doesn’t let go of my hand for the whole car journey home. Kareem and Dennis are in the front of the car and they’re silent. They let us have our moment. Our quiet after an overwhelming evening.
Luc has crowbarred his way in, and the walls are crumbling. The sadness is escaping, rays of light creeping in. And I don’t want to let him go.
On the way home, Kareem stops his car outside the Queen Patty restaurant at Leicester Square – another of Luc’s surprises. He disappears inside for all of about five minutes and returns with four huge bags. It smells insane. I could almost start dribbling.
I open the top of my bag and peek inside. I can see full-sized portions.
‘You’re not eating in my car,’ Kareem protests.
‘Oh, of course,’ Luc says. ‘We’ll eat when we get home.’
‘Good man.’
