Page 63 of Who’s That Girl?

And Lottie, who has spotted me waiting unsurely in the doorway, rushes over. She’s carrying a pint of cider and wearing those dreaded PVC trousers. Those need to be at the top of my list of ‘what not to wear’. Though, saying that, her figure does look pretty fantastic in them, I think with surprise.

‘Hi. Sorry I’m late. I was—’

‘You nearly missed the whole gig,’ she gasps impatiently, thrusting a ticket into my hand. ‘Come on, hurry up, they’re about to do their unplugged version.’

As the band falls silent, she grabs my arm and charges back towards the small room at the rear of the pub. Packed with people, it’s standing room only. She pushes her way through the crowd towards the makeshift stage. Shattered Genius have disappeared off stage and a roadie is setting up a chair and microphone.

‘So you really love this band, huh?’ Reaching the front, I turn to Lottie, whose eyes are glued eagerly to the stage.

‘Well, I love the lead singer, Billy Romani,’ she confesses, sipping her pint.

Suddenly there’s movement behind the stage. ‘Oh my God, he’s coming back on. He’s coming back on,’ she gasps.

My chest tightens and I brace myself. I feel a mixture of anticipation and apprehension at the thought of seeing him again. After all these years I vaguely remember what he looks like, but to be honest it’s all a bit of a lustful blur. Plus of course I tried my hardest to forget him.

In the commotion I get pushed behind Lottie, but she’s wearing flats like I always used to so now I’m much taller in my heels and can easily see over her head. My stomach releases a cage of butterflies. Any minute now I’m going to see him again and I have no idea how I’m going to feel.

Then, all at once, there he is, dressed in black and striding on stage with his guitar. Folding his six-foot-something frame into the chair, he pauses for a moment to take a swig from his beer.

And I feel absolutely nothing. I stare at him in astonishment.

That’s him? That’s the man I used to be so crazy about? I was expecting to feel some kind of powerful emotion – desire, sadness, anger, anything – but instead it’s just a huge anticlimax. He used to seem so hip and cool, but now—

‘He’s wearing leather trousers,’ I hiss, feeling an unexpected beat of amusement. The last thing I expected was to find him funny, but he looks like such a complete idiot I actually feel sorry for him. ‘And they’re skintight!’ I snort. Ha! This will definitely put her off.

‘I know.’ She nods, her eyes like saucers. ‘Sexy, huh?’

I look at her in confusion. This was not the reaction I was expecting at all. Why am I not sniggering? Can it be …? I hesitate, trying to get my head round this impossible thought. Can it be true that once upon a time I fancied a man who wore leather trousers?

And with a lace-up crisscross fly, I notice with horror. I nudge Lottie quickly. ‘Look at his crotch!’

‘Oy, hands off, he’s mine,’ she giggles.

‘No, I mean—’ but I’m interrupted.

‘This is a song I wrote about this crazy rollercoaster called life,’ Billy Romani is drawling huskily into the microphone, his eyes downcast as if he’s uncomfortable being under the spotlight.

Oh, please. He closes his eyes and starts wailing soulfully at the top of his lungs. On and on. Until finally, two encores later, it’s all over and gratefully I steer Lottie back into the main pub and to safety.

‘Over there.’ Spotting a couple of free seats, we sit down.

Phew. I feel a wave of relief. Well, that was easy. All she has to do is finish her drink; then we can leave and put all this behind us.

‘Hello, ladies, is this seat taken?’

Dammit. I spoke too soon.

We both look up sharply to see Billy standing next to us, smiling lazily. But, whereas before that smile would have melted me at a hundred paces, now it’s like I’m made of super Teflon or something.

‘Yes!’

‘No.’

We both speak at the same time, Lottie and I. Then we both look at each other. She pulls a face as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’ and throws me a desperate look. All at once my heart goes out to her. Now he has zero effect on me, but back then I’d had a crush on him forever.

‘No … no one’s sitting there,’ she says hastily.

I watch her smiling tentatively and the longing is palpable. God, I really, really liked him, didn’t I? I can see it in my eyes, that hopeful desire to be liked back.