Page 50 of Not My Greek Wedding

‘I hope so too,’ I say, although I feel inexplicably nervous at the thought of him hearing me sing. Gosh why did I tell him I was singing?

‘See you later.’ He smiles as he goes to rejoin his friends. ‘Good luck with the song.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You don’t waste any time, do you?’ teases Irene when I return to the table.

‘What are you talking about?’ I laugh off her remark.

‘I saw you chatting up that bloke at the bar. Have you forgotten about the walking Adonis from the nightclub already?’

‘What? Don’t be silly, it was just a bloke from the shop we visited the other day. It was Andreas,’ I tell Lulu.

‘Ah the photographer.’ She nods. ‘He was a nice bloke, as I recall.’

‘Photographer?’ asks Irene, and I tell her all about him helping me as I tried to take a selfie on the wall.

‘Well, he seems quite taken with you. Don’t look now, but he keeps glancing over here,’ says Patsy.

A few seconds later, I casually glance his way and sure enough he is looking over. When we make eye contact, he raises his beer and smiles.

Unable to decide what to order, we all decide to share a huge mixed meze, and it arrives in next to no time. The table is groaning with an assortment of dips and pitta breads, lamb koftas, chicken skewers and halloumi fries. A huge Greek salad topped with a slab of feta is placed in the centre.

Soon enough, the first person is up to sing.

‘They must be professional,’ whispers Irene as the beautiful notes of the female singer reach around the room.

Next up is a bloke who does a rousing cover of a Meatloaf song and has the crowd singing and clapping along. I won’t be on until later in the evening, having only just put my name down, so I can sit back and relax for now, and just enjoy the show.

During a short break from the karaoke as a DJ plays some tunes, Andreas comes over to say hi to Lulu, and to inform me that he and his friends are moving on.

‘Good luck with the song,’ he says kindly. ‘Although I may actually be able to hear you sing, as we are only moving to a bar a little way along the road.’

‘How will you know it’s me singing?’ I ask.

‘I think I will just know,’ he says, which makes me smile. ‘Anyway, enjoy the rest of your evening,’ he says to everyone, before he departs.

‘What a nice bloke,’ says Patsy.

‘Mia seems to attract them,’ says Lulu, with a raise of an eyebrow.

‘What can I say? It must be my sparkling personality,’ I say modestly, with a smile.

The standard of singers this evening is alarmingly good, which has my tummy feeling a little nervous. It makes me wonder whether it was this feeling that prevented me from pursuing a career as a singer, as the tension and nerves always get to me before a performance. It probably isn’t helping that I have so long to wait this evening before it is my turn.

Bryn and Ash arrive then, and soon distract me with stories of surfing and Bryn gives us a detailed account of his accident in the water.

‘I thought my number was well and truly up,’ he says dramatically. ‘I swallowed water, as I went under, it was a dark moment.’ He exhales.

‘Good job Ash was there then,’ says Irene, leaning over for a halloumi fry before stopping herself.

‘I think you would have done just fine; we weren’t out very far,’ says Ash, smiling. ‘In fact, I think I could actually stand up in the water.’

‘Oh, let me have my moment, will you,’ says Bryn. ‘My life flashed before my very eyes.’

‘If you say so.’ Ash takes a sip of his drink, while trying to keep a straight face.

We chat for a little while longer, until my name is called to sing and my friends are on their feet.

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