Page 48 of Knots About You
Jeff pointed at my face. ‘Paint on your cheek. Right there.’
‘I’m more paint than person at this point. I’ve given up fighting it. I’m assimilating to the cottages' demanding ways.’ I grinned as Jeff laughed.
We squeezed around the table. Owen was at my side, his hand on my knee under the table, like he needed to maintain a touch base with me at all times. After Marty never having touched me in public, it delighted me. I was hyper-aware of my absence of my usual social armour. No eyeliner. No lipstick. No social media to disappear in.
‘You should sing,’ Owen murmured against my ear, his rumbling voice making me clench my thighs. ‘You’ll be brilliant.’
‘Absolutely not. I sing in bathrooms and cars. Alone.’
‘We can duet,’ Isla said, her voice high and keen. ‘We’ll do one of the bangers.’
‘This is a nightmare,’ I told Owen.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And yet?’
And yet it might befun.
‘You two stop mooning over each other before you make everyone heave.’ Isla rolled her eyes at us, but Owen didn’t let up, gently squeezing my thigh. ‘Write us down, Kenny. Something by the Spice Girls.’
When Eilidh’s name went up, she dashed over and grabbed Isla and me by the hands.‘Come on then. Girlband energy.’
‘No—’ I began, but then I was on my feet, dragged into a loose triangle in front of the mic.
The room whooped, and I died inside, seeing all those faces staring at us. I mumbled through the first verse, letting Isla and Eilidh carry the song, my face feeling nuclear heat levels. But by the time we his the second chorus, I relaxed, belting it out with them through laughter, fully leaning into the chaos. Eilidh had a great voice, Isla and I less so, but we let her carry us like a mother dragging two unruly toddlers. We sounded ridiculous, and happy, and Owen watched, a rare smile lifting his lip. Inpublic.
For the key change, I stepped back to really give it some welly, and hooked my ankle in the mic lead. I tried to snatch my foot back, but only succeeded in pulling the whole mic stand toward me, where it teetered for a moment before toppling. The mic gave a death squeal that had the pub covering their ears while I tripped over intoaloose display of pumpkins, shoulder-checked an old man, and sent a wooden squirrel skidding across the floor like a rogue curling stone.
‘Man down!’ Kenny barked.
‘Save the pint!’ someone yelled, as the old man bumped his table, his glass teetering by the edge.
I lunged for the pint, over-corrected, and got wrapped up in a string of paper leaves, which slithered down around my neck like a seasonal noose.
The room paused in a single, horrified yet delighted moment.
Owen sprang up, wrapping an arm around my waist and freeing me from the garland. He set me on my feet before righting the mic, the display, and checking that the old man was okay. I stood there, the weak spotlight on our sad-looking trio, as Isla stifled a giggle.
Owen came back to me, grabbing my hand and whispering. ‘Bow.’
‘What?’ I asked, through gritted teeth as humiliation wrapped around me.
‘Bow.’
Silence.
Then the place erupted. Whoops. Applause. A wolf whistle from Morag had me laughing.
Isla clapped like a drunken seal while Eilidh took my hand and bowed even deeper, as though the entire thing was just a skit.
‘Better than Eurovision,’ Alistair said, deadpan.
MacKay cupped his hands. ‘Ten out of ten for comedy. Would watch again.’
‘They’ll love you forever,’ Owen murmured, eyes crinkling as he righted me like I weighed nothing.
‘Everyone in the village is going to hear about that,’ I wheezed, cheeks on fire.
‘You’re all right,’ he said, in that low rumbling voice that soothed my soul, keeping one arm around my waist.
