Page 68 of Unplugged

I glance at Liam who looks as stunned as I am. Bryn winks at me and Jem behaves as if she were never in the room. Dan finally peels himself from his attachment to the wall and follows her. I watch Jem and the anger in his eyes is unmistakable.

I resolve never to speak to Dan. I’ve seen friends trapped in cycles of violence in relationships and seen the aftermath. Despite Ruby’s foul mouth and the dismissive attitude she has to me, I hurt for her. I’ve known girls like Ruby. They’re surrounded by barbed wire to protect themselves from the world. The problem is this fences in everything that’s hurt them, trapping the pain.

If Ruby’s involved with Jem Jones, he’ll get more than barbed wire scratches and things won’t be pretty.

* * *

Half an hourinto the band’s set and my old love of live music reignites. The girl on stage holds a presence that expands across the room and grabs the crowd by the throat. Ruby, the girl whose weakness I just witnessed, now holds her own on stage. Recently, all I’ve seen is sanitised singers with remixed vocals on TV. Now I remember this intense sound from my teen years. The delicate balance between volume and skill fills the room and my mind, and Liam’s decision to come here is forgiven. No way would I like to be at a quiet restaurant and miss this.

Liam stands behind me with arms wrapped around my waist, and I’m encompassed by the warmth of his affection. There’re no wandering hands, just the occasional scrape of Liam’s rough cheek against my neck as he kisses me. For the first time in years, I’m the Cerys who’s special to someone.

I almost asked Liam to leave after the uncomfortable backstage experience, but the band captured me with the first song.

Once Ruby Riot finish playing, people drift away to other more interesting venues, the club descending into relative quiet. I return to the corner that I shared with Liam earlier, and I’m surprised when the others join us

Will pushes a hand through his short black hair and flicks his tongue piercing over his teeth. “What did you think, Liam? Reckon we could join the next Blue Phoenix tour?”

Liam relaxes next to me, arm across my shoulders. “Not my call.”

“But we’re good, yeah?”

“Not bad.”

“Wearegood, I know. Not your kind of music, huh?” Will asks me.

“What makes you ask that?”

“Umm. Dunno. You don’t look like you’d like us.”

“Why? What do I look like?” My earlier feeling of rewinding to my pre-Ella days, losing myself and fitting in, screeches to a halt.

Heat spreads across my cheeks as I’m hit by how I’m fooling myself. I dressed down, yes, but my dressed down still makes me look like I should be with different people.Other mothers.

“It’s fine, forget what I said,” says Will, shifting in his seat.

“You mean, I don’t have enough tattoos and piercings to be cool enough to watch your band?” I ask defensively.

“Nah, you just don’t look like a normal fan. I didn’t mean anything. You’re cool, okay?”

Sure, but if my hair was a different colour and I wore the correct clothes, I’d be ‘cooler’. Despite the fact I’m in a darkened corner, I feel as if there’s a spotlight on me.

“I need the bathroom,” I say to Liam and stand. My small black handbag rests on the seat next to him and I stare at it. Nobody else here has a handbag.

Stumbling towards the bathrooms, I keep my eyes to the floor. I’m not much different in age to these people, younger than the Blue Phoenix guys, but I may as well be ten years older.

The black walls drip with condensation in the hallway, and couples hang around chatting. Thankfully, there’s no queue to get into the bathrooms and I push myself through the door.

Gripping the dirty sink in the brightly lit space, I stare at my reflection. My carefully applied make-up enhances my big brown eyes, my lipstick a natural colour. Next to me, a girl with thick black hair reapplies heavy black eyeliner on her powdered pale face, and touches up her perfect red lipstick. This girl wears a disguise as part of the scene.

I’m Cerys, mum on a night out.

I worried that my lack of similarity to Honey would be an issue if I dated Liam, but this is the bigger one. My life doesn’t fit his. I doubt anyone else here has a five year old staying at a friend’s so she can have her first night out in six months.

With the decision to tell Liam I want to go home made, I head out of the bathrooms.

Liam’s waiting outside for me, resting against the opposite wall, and I pause in surprise.

“You okay?” he asks.

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