We take our final bows and leave the stage. As we pass through the star curtain the first crashes of dance music begin.
I wonder if she went home? Maybe I should stay till the end of the party, find Meg and ask for her help. She might be able to get Phoebe somewhere I can talk to her before I go up to see Ellie, Russ and Barney. I want to explain. I know exactly what she thought when Laura kissed me.
Bloody Laura.
I saw her as we were playing the last song, snogging the face off some guy. She’d recovered remarkably well considering how heartbroken she’d looked forty-five minutes ago. I hope the bloke thinks better of it when the hangover wears off. Poor git.
Back in the dressing room there are fresh beers and a round of bacon sandwiches from the caterers. That settles it: Meg is officially our best booker. I wonder if she brought them over while our set was coming to an end. Is she anywhere near?
‘Well, personally I reckon we rocked,’ Niven says, swaying a little. I’d better make sure I get him in a cab soon. He’s on the sofa bed at DeeDee and Kim’s tonight then catching the train back up to Oban tomorrow.
‘We did,’ I smile. ‘Great to gig with you.’
The rounds of New Year hugs ensue until Niven swipes a fresh bottle from the cooler, holding it high. ‘A toast!’
Kim rolls her eyes and Chris chuckles.
‘Not another one, dude. We need to get you back.’
‘Ach, away with you, Mullins! It’s New Year. Lighten up!’
Outnumbered I open a bottle too and we toast a great gig. Then Chris and Niven sneak back to the stage to pack down what they can, and I pack my fiddle away, my heart heavy despite the party raging around me.
‘Will you be okay getting Niven back?’ I ask DeeDee, who is pulling jeans on under her black sequinned gig dress. ‘I’m worried he might wander into the city and get himself lost.’
‘Leave him to me. You’re welcome to crash at ours too, if you like? We’re closer than your place.’
I should wait for Meg.
But I’ll still see her in the morning when we come to load our gear out. With a little sleep I might know what to say to her – and she might be in a better place to hear it. Meg is my last link to Phoebe. I need to get her on my side. I owe it to myself to do it at the best time.
‘Cheers, Dee. But I need my own bed tonight.’
‘Old man! Go on, go home to your Horlicks and your pipe and slippers, eh? Leave us kids partying.’ She gives me a kiss on my bruised cheek, then apologises when I wince.
I grab my things and head out – just as the Goo Goo Dolls’ ‘Iris’ booms back from the venue.
Her song.
I remember Phoebe’s surprise when she received the video of me and Niven playing it, the joy in her smile in the photo she sent me of the moment I surprised her. I’ll talk to Meg in the morning, when I’ve worked out how to ask for her help.
But now I need to get home.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Phoebe
I run until my feet hurt. Then I walk.
The streets aren’t empty because London never is. Every bar and restaurant is packed. We must be getting close to midnight, judging by the level of expectation that radiates from every place I pass.
I couldn’t have stayed there. Not knowing Sam has somebody for the coming year and seeing him on stage with everyone celebrating. I don’t feel like I’m on the cusp of a new beginning. I feel like I’m commemorating a death.
When I’m in my new home, with my new job, things will be brighter. Maybe even in a few hours when the year has turned and I can breathe again, it won’t all look so bad. But in the dying moments of this year, it’s okay to feel sad. I don’t need anyone’s permission and I won’t be spoiling the moment for anybody around me. I just need to acknowledge how I feel.
Mark it, Giana would say. I had an email from her yesterday, wishing me a bright new year. And I think her approach to everything is what inspired me the most on my European adventure. Acknowledge everything you think and feel because then fear can’t squeeze in. If you believe being angry or scared or hurt is something to hide, you give fear the right to own it, to remind you of it when you’re trying to move forward. I’m sad now – devastated, actually – but that’s okay. I’ll learn something from this if I acknowledge that’s how I feel.
For the next few hours, when the only person to notice is me, I’m going to be sad that I missed Sam: sad that we had chances to move forward that we didn’t take; sad that we didn’t get to talk this evening. There is so much else I can celebrate about the time he was part of my life, so it isn’t the defeat it might have been. All the same, once this moment is over, I’ll be glad to leave for my new life.
A yell from an open doorway makes me turn and I see a crowd of people on their feet, looking towards a TV over the bar. The camera is zooming in on the famous clock. One bloke raises his hand and the people yell a countdown.
‘Ten… nine… eight…’
Sam will be on stage now.
‘Seven… six…’
The band will be standing in their positions, too.
‘Five… four… three…’
Up in his lighting booth, Osh will be ready to tap the switch that releases streamers and balloons over the partygoers and fires three huge confetti cannons from the edges of the stage.
‘Two…’
I couldn’t have stayed at the party. To be so close to Sam knowing we couldn’t be together would rip me to shreds.
‘One…’
I hurry away, not wanting to see the moment the year turns. But all around me the sound of cheers and ‘Happy New Year’s and the crack and thud of distant fireworks fill the air.
It’s over. The year is done. And I’m completely alone.
It must have rained while we were in the party. Puddles pepper the dark pavement and roads, the late-night lights dancing in them as I pass. It’s beautiful. I am going to miss this city. Just when you think you know everything about London, it surprises you. Part of my heart will always be here.
Happy New Year.
I think it will be.
Now that moment is over, it’s better. Before Big Ben’s chimes I couldn’t see anything but what was passing, but now that’s just part of history.
I could go straight home, but it’s nice out tonight. There’s only a hint of chill in the air. I’ll have a better chance of being positive while I’m walking, too; ruminating in a cab or on a night bus won’t do me any good. This is okay – this walk can be my goodbye to London. One last night spent hanging out with an old friend I love.
I’ve just let myself wander, like I did in Paris, Florence and Rome, so it’s not until I look up that I suddenly realise where I am.
No.
I didn’t even think I was anywhere near here.
I gaze up at the red brick magnificence of the St Pancras Renaissance Hotel. Light glows from its windows, the damp January air making it look like each one has been smudged around the edges. It’s still a magical building. It still means something to me.
There’s one place that was part of my adventure I haven’t returned to: one friend I’ve yet to see again. I avoided him when I came back from Paris. I haven’t dared visit since. But as tonight is supposed to be my goodbye walk in London, this feels like the right time.