Page 86 of Animal Instincts
“…let’s give it up for Sandra and the Love’s Harbour Sensational Serenaders for their, er, very original take on Bohemian Rhapsody. Thank you, ladies. The ukulele riff was inspired.”
As Sandra and the Serenaders left the stage to rapturous applause and wolf whistles, Joss hunkered down in his seat. He really couldn’t take much more of this, but the marquee was packed and the only way he’d be able to make it out would be if he body surfed over everybody.
Amidst all the good, bad and the downright ugly performances, there had been some clear talent. One of the newcomers had wowed the beery audience with a bluesy number, her voice every bit as rich and mellow as she was thin and insipid, and a husband and wife team had duetted, their voices as vibrant and sunny as their smiles. But they were the bright lights amongst the dim wattage of out of tune voices stumbling through classic pop numbers, and stuttering and unsure guitar recitals.
Guitar… Joss blinked hard as his vision misted, suddenly and without warning. A warm evening, classical Spanish guitar, and a song about a blackbird learning to fly once more. Oliver, red faced and embarrassed he wasn’t good enough… Oliver had been good enough, more than good enough in ways than he could never know.
Joss dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. He wouldn’t cry, he would not cry a single tear. He sniffed and peered around him, but nobody took any notice. He was invisible, and he welcomed it.
“Look, Joss. It’s your gran.” Declan prodded Joss with his elbow and nodded towards the stage.
Joss groaned. Declan, and Charles, who’d turned up just as the first performers had climbed up on the stage brandishing recorders and tambourines, laughed.
“It’s not funny, it’s bloody embarrassing.”
“Your grandmother’s a breath of fresh air, Joss.” Charles smiled at him. “You should be proud, not embarrassed by the way she attacks life.”
“I just wish sometimes she’d attack it with a bit less… attack.”
Gran and Eva where huddled together, talking feverishly as their matching powder blue rinses bobbed up and down in unison.
“Ladies and gents, The Fisherman’s Arms Open Mic Night 2 gives a warm welcome to…” Ryan shuffled through his list of performers. “Er, the—”
“The Blue Belles.” Gran’s hiss turned to ear splitting static through the speakers. “And we’re singing a medley of Tina Turner classics.”
“Thought they were doing Kinky Boots?” Declan said, leaning into Joss.
“Change of plan. Thank god.”
Gran had badgered him to do a turn,as she’d put it. She’d only been trying to inject a bit of life into him, but when he snapped he’d rather stick pins in his eyes, she’d left him alone.
Gran and Eva threw themselves into their time in the spotlight. Nut Bush City Limits merged into River Deep, Mountain High, which morphed into Proud Mary as they stomped around the stage, Tina style, brandishing their microphones like offensive weapons.
“They’re not bad.” Declan nodded his head in approval.
Everybody in the crowded marquee was singing along with them, everybody foot stamping and declaring Gran and Eva Simply The Best. A surge of pride rushed through Joss. What had Charles said? She attacked life. Wasn’t that so much better than running away from it?
Gran and Eva’s time in the limelight ended in a crescendo, with cheers and whistles, foot stomping, and fast and furious clapping. Gran and Eva bobbed and curtseyed, waved and blew kisses, before Ryan’s mum came on stage and escorted them off.
Ryan returned to the stage and announced a short break, prompting a rush to the bar.
“Think I might head off.” Joss pushed himself to standing — and was pulled back down into his seat.
“No, you’re not. If we’re staying until the bitter end, then so are you.” Declan glared at him. “And anyway, you’ll get soaked within seconds of stepping outside. Can’t you hear the rain?”
Joss listened. The rain and wind had got worse and were hammering against the marquee. It was close to gale force. The sides of the marquee billowed in and out, like a giant panting animal.
“Declan’s right,” Charles said, his voice cool and calm. “As soon as the last performer takes a bow, we’ll give you a lift home. And your grandmother, of course.”
“Ryan’s mum will be bringing Gran home, but thanks. Honestly, I really need to get back and have an early night so I’m ready for tomorrow.”
“You’re not going until the afternoon and I’m taking you to Exeter station, remember? Now sit down and stop being a nuisance.”
Declan’s flat stare wasn’t to be argued with. He’d insisted on giving Joss a lift into Exeter, which was the worst leg in a long journey. If nothing else, Joss owed it to Declan to stay, and he sat back, resigned to sitting out the long and tedious evening.
The crowd began to drift back, their pints and wine glasses replenished. Joss sipped on his soda and lime, a racy change from lemonade. Yeah, he sure knew how to live it up.
He pulled out his phone, hoping yet not hoping to find a message, a text, a missed called, a something, anything, from Oliver. Nothing. But why would there be? As soon as he could leave Love’s Harbour the better, for a new life to dive headfirst into, miles and miles away. He’d be way too busy to waste his time moping over a past that would never, ever be his future.
