Page 77 of Musical Games
Everyone thought the world of Jamie.
After that conversation, he’d texted.
Jamie: Thank you for speaking to Gregor. Hope you got home okay.
She’d tried to engage him in conversation, but it appeared he was as quiet over text as he was in real life. Brad had put her in touch with the producer and they’d agreed to try and get all three songs recorded within a week. The producer would lay down the backing with the orchestra on Monday and Tuesday, and she and Jamie would add their voices and guitar over the last three days. Jamie let her handle everything, telling her he would fly down on Tuesday and go back Sunday. Her heart ached. It felt like they’d gone back to square one. That the intimacy they’d shared never existed. He'd said she was his everything, but now she was reduced to nothing. As significant as a biscuit crumb left on a plate.
She’d had to ask Sandra, her agent, to get her another three days off work for the recording. Then a journalist rang wanting the inside scoop on what she and Jamie were doing with Brad Bauer. If they hadn’t been plastered all over Brad’s Instagram feed, she could have tried to lie. She had to keep control of the message, so agreed to meet the journalist with Jamie when he was down.
She lay in bed, unable to sleep, the blue light from her phone filling the darkness as she mindlessly scrolled through social media and waited for texts from Jamie that never arrived. The phone ringing shocked her. It was her sister.
‘Esther, you okay?’
‘Yes, of course I am. Are you?’
‘Um, yeah, fine.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘Mum and Dad okay?’
‘Yes, fine. I just wanted to remind you about Anna’s birthday next Thursday. Remember?’
‘Er, um, yes of course. I don’t think I can come. I’ve got Jamie stay— The guy I wrote the music with is coming to London to record it.’
‘Bring him along. We’d all like to meet him.’
‘I can’t bring him to a family meal.’
Esther gave a short and efficient laugh. ‘Why not? It would be nice to have someone there to delay the conversation turning to the latest advances in sutures and the GMC.’
Sam smiled. ‘I thought you loved talking about that stuff.’
‘Well, it’s nice to have common ground with Dad, but sometimes it gets a bit much. It’s like he’s testing me all the time. Sometimes I just want to have a drink and talk about rubbish on the telly.’
Rubbish like Elm Tree Lane. Sam bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Okay, I’ll bring him. Text me the details, okay?’
‘Sam, I didn’t mean—’
‘Gotta dash, another call coming through.’
She cut her sister off, threw her phone across the room and curled up on her side, making herself as small and insignificant as she knew she was.
The following Tuesday,Sam took a taxi from the studio to the airport to meet Jamie. He was expecting to meet at her flat, but she wanted to surprise him. She’d scrubbed off her Bethany make-up and Shelley had blow-dried her hair. She was sick with nerves, her stomach churning. It reminded her of the worst days of her Crohn’s, and she had to stop and do her breathing exercises to calm down and remind herself how much better she was now.
She stood back from the barrier in arrivals, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Her heart jumped each time the doors swished open, discharging more people. Where was he? Had she got the time wrong? Her heart stopped as he strode out, a holdall over one shoulder, his guitar case in his hand. His hair had been cut and he looked like a model-turned-rock star. Her head was dizzy. He was stupidly handsome. And he was here. He stopped, looking around as if to orientate himself. She ran over, pushing herself into his eyeline. He stopped and stared at her, blinking, as if his brain had stopped and was restarting.
‘Jamie. It’s me.’
‘What are you doing here?’ His voice sounded choked and he cleared his throat, colour rising into his cheeks.
‘I thought I’d surprise you.’ He looked blankly at her. ‘Did it work?’
He swallowed and nodded. She tried to keep her smile in place, but inside she was crumbling. Why did she have to fuck everything up?
He started. ‘Sorry, erm.’ He put his bag and guitar case down and held his arms out stiffly.
She hesitated, but the lure was too strong. She melted into him, snaking her arms inside his jacket and burying her head into his side, inhaling citrus, sandalwood andhim. He folded her into his body, holding her tightly and nuzzling the top of her hair.
‘It’s so good to see you again,’ he breathed.
She could hear the fast beat of his heart, feel the rise and fall of his chest. She pressed herself closer. She could feel—
