I take it from her, opening it and pushing the bottom up so it can stand on the table. I ignore Rowan’s satisfied look.
“Because I feel bad, alright. All… sticky inside. And I thought if I gave you something it would make the feeling better.”
“And has it?” Rowan asks.
Ewan scrunches up his face. “Yes. No. I don’t know. What is it with this group and all this chat about feelings?”
“Says the boy who’s on the hike for his dead best friend.”
“Man!” Ewan throws his head into his hands. “I am a man!”
“Grandma says no.” Rowan sips her pint, wincing as the band all miss their notes, producing a discordant screeching like an elephant being tortured by a raccoon.
“Ewan.” Priya’s eyes are round as she carefully munches her way through the packet of crisps. “I accept your apology.”
“But I didn’t—”
I kick him under the table.
“Ah, right. Shit. Fine.”
“You do understand that Priya is only ten? Could you at leasttryto keep the swearing down?” Lila chips in, and the rest of us duck our heads, shame-faced. She pats Ewan on the arm. “Thank you, Ewan. That was very sweet.”
Just as the lad looks fit to burst into flames, the band finally stops playing and silence falls. I send up a prayer that this means the awful noise is at an end.A nice, normal band. A guitar. A good singer. Lord, that’s all I ask.
“Thank you so much. Thank you, thank you. Now if you’d …” Stavros is on the mic while the last note is still ringing. “What an interesting song! So unique. So… poignant. And now for—” Bonnie hustles over and whispers in his ear. Stavros beams, searching the crowd. “One second, ladies and gents. I’ve been told there’s a singer in the audience. With a voice that could melt chocolate. Well! That’s exactly what we need! Could you all welcome Angus to the stage?”
I choke on my drink.
Ewan smiles.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Fourteen
Rowan
I’ve seen Angus drenched in the rain, covered in mud, staggering into camp carrying both his own bag and the weight of a whole other man, and yet I’ve never seen him half as uncomfortable as he is right now. His tanned face had gone red as a ripe strawberry, and he looks as though he wants to disappear under the table and into a conveniently placed hole in the floor.
A plea smoulders in his brown eyes, and he catches mine, begging me without words to save him.
I shrug and bat my eyelashes. No such luck. This is too good to miss.
Of our table, Priya is the only one who shows any sympathy, pressing her hand on his. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go up,” she says, glancing in her mum’s direction, as if for reassurance. “It doesn’t make us any less proud of you.”
I guess this is what Lila says to her, when her fear overcomes her. Her sweet seriousness sends a pang of warmth to my chest as I watch her offer a man three times her size and age some comfort.
I can see that Angus is moved too, as he closes his eyes briefly and swallows. His voice, when he speaks, is husky and low. “Thank you, Priya.”
But then he levers himself to his feet.
“Are you really going up there?” Ewan asks.
Angus nods. “Yes, Ewan. I really am.”
And he strides through the crowd to the stage, back straight, shoulders down, like a man heading to war.
“Alright, you fuckers,” he says into the microphone, as the crowd cheer and stomp their feet. “Anyone here got a fiddle?”
