Page 66 of The Key to My Heart

‘Yeah, good.’

‘Right.’ Tom sips his beer. ‘Wringing that dry towel,’ he says, as if to himself.

‘What?’ I laugh. ‘What do you want me to do, write a bloody review forKerrang? Get out a chaise lounge? Spew out my innermost fears?’

Tom gives a shrug. ‘Fuck it. Let’s do it.’

‘And anyway, you’re here alone, with neat whisky, Thomas. Why don’t we talk aboutthaton the chaise lounge?’

Tom swallows his drink and says, ‘Well – I’m not quite.’

‘Yeah, okay,I’mhere, but—’

‘No, I mean … I’m not here alone. I came with someone.’

‘Oh. Did you?’ And embarrassment sweeps over me, like a hot breeze. It makes me swallow, turns my face into a furnace.

‘I did,’ says Tom.

‘Sooo. Miss Two A.M.?’ I force a laugh and it sounds mad – like someone sitting on top of a washing machine, on spin.

‘If that’s what you want to call her,’ Tom replies, laughing almost as awkwardly, his face practically a wince. And before I can say anything else, someone is sidling up next to him – cat eyes and sleek dark hair and perfect smooth skin.

‘They almost didn’t let me back in,’ she says. ‘This day and age doesnotcater for the social smokers of the world.’ She wraps her fingers around his bicep, then looks at me and smiles. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I’m Natalie. It’s nice to—’

‘Oh!Natalie!You’re – you’re – the piano girl? Tom told me. He told me all about you.’

‘Oh.Oh—’

‘I’m Amy.’ She holds her hand out across the bar, the fingernails painted turquoise, and across Tom’s stomach, and I shake it.

‘Amy,’ I say, ‘And I’m …piano girl.Apparently.’ And I don’t know why, but I feel two inches tall. Ifeel ridiculous. Me. Whittled down to just that – piano girl. The weird girl who plays at the train station and had a weird little mystery. A weird little mystery that’ll probably never be solved because the music seems to have fallen into a manhole, never to be seen again, and that’s probably good, too. Because what normal person pins all her hope and excitement in the world onthat.A piece of music. Piano girl. That’s me. Not Natalie. Not Tom’s friend.Piano girl.

‘So what’re you two chatting about? Heartt with two Ts? Did Tom tell you he’s making an eco-friendly guitar out of bean cans. Wasit bean cans? Or chickpeas?’ Amy giggles, her hand stroking Tom’s arm now, and I feel – breathless. Like my chest is tightening.

I force a smile. ‘I better go,’ I say. ‘I’ve chatted for too long really and my friend … He’ll be wondering where I am.’ I push off from the bar. ‘It was really nice to meet you, Amy. See you around, Tom.’

The second band play beautifully. I prefer them, to Heartt with two Ts and his cocky, sweaty gang who Priya would’ve definitely warned people about in our old job.‘They’re up their own arses and they proper stink. You deserve better, honey, trust me.’The set of the second band’s is more melodic, more emotional, and there’s a keyboard player who I can’t take my eyes off. It’s like she stands playing in an invisible bubble – just her and the keys, her eyes aflame like someone in love. Joe stands beside me, arm to arm, but Hollie stands with us on the other side of him, and so does her friend Sarah. Hollietalks a lot throughout the set, like someone bored in a cinema, which irritates me. Joe listens though, patiently, as she holds onto his arm and talks into his ear. By the time the set is over, I’m ready to flee. Of course I am. It’s the live music. It’s Joe and Hollie. It’s Tom and Amy. It’s being here, like stepping into a past life. It’s everything. A tornado, ripping its way through me. North, south, east, west.

‘Are you okay?’ asks Joe, the second the lights come up. ‘You look – I dunno. A bit pale? Shall I get you something? Some water, or—’

‘Actually – are you okay from here?’

‘Do you mean, if you go?’

I swallow, tears gathering in my eyes, like whirlpools. Thank God for the low lights. Thank God for the black walls and black floors and all the shadows. ‘Yeah. I mean, if that’s okay—’

‘No, no, of course it is. But I’m not letting you go without me—’

‘Oh my God, Joe, look who’s just texted me! He’s here too!’ Hollie’s hanging off Joe’s arm, but he doesn’t move. He’s sweet, Joe. Really sweet. And gorgeous. Totally knee-cap-meltingly gorgeous. At the food festival, there was a moment where I actually thought I wanted him to lean in and kiss me. But right now … right now, I want to leave.

‘You stay.’ I smile at him and gesture, a tiny head movement, at Hollie and Sarah.

Something passes over his face – hesitation. Shame. I recognise it instantly. And I wonder what it’s for. Grief and guilt for me are so entwined, and guilt and shamearrive, unannounced, often, when I’m least expecting it. Is it his shame for being here, while his brother can’t be? Is it for having fun, moving on? Is it – for me? Does he feel sorry for me?

‘Seriously. I’m excited for my bed. You stay, havefun.I’m good, I promise.’

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