Page 80 of Crescendo

She laughed. “Well, okay, Ella Hendrickson. Aren’t you mysterious?”

I shot her a look, pausing by the door in the moment we were still alone. “Do you like mysterious women?”

She flashed a grin at me. “Only just as much as you like loud, egotistical American women.”

I bit down on a smile and pulled the door open. “Come on.”

She was practically bouncing the whole time, my heart trying to keep a rhythm with her but racing ahead the closer we got.

As we walked through Brixton, her head whipped from side to side, taking it all in. The lively bustle of it all wrappedaround us like a blanket. I’d always loved how London felt so anonymous that nobody wanted anything from me. When I’d come into the city for uni, it had been freeing. An opportunity to meet new people, be a new person, to be myself without anyone expecting anything from the child I’d once been. After Callum died, that anonymity had been safety. Nobody knew me on the street, nobody looked at me with sympathy, asking questions about how I was coping, wanting grief from me in a way I couldn’t give it to them.

Now, it was something else, something I hadn’t quite figured out. I wasn’t used to accepting the things I couldn’t figure out, but it felt okay with Lydia by my side. We were two small pieces in this puzzle that was London, Brixton, the world… The anonymity was living. It was the warmth of other people around us, knowing nothing about them but knowing they all lived big, vivid lives. Brixton was a symphony.

I led her to a bench and sat her down beside me.

She looked at me with wild, excited eyes. “This is what you wanted to show me? A bench?”

I laughed. “Kind of, yeah.”

“Well, as nice as it is, I’m pretty sure there are benches near Crescendo.”

I shook my head, amused. There were. “We crossed the river.”

She paused. “What?”

“The Thames.” I gestured in its general direction. “We crossed the river. South of the river.”

“Okay?” She laughed. “You’re talking like we’re in some old-timey movie where crossing a river takes a lot more effort.”

I smiled at her, taking in the way the late afternoon sun caught in her hair. “It doesn’t, but it’s kind of a big deal here. Londoners can get attached to their bit of London, and, you know, all the bits have all the things you need, you don’t alwayshave to cross the river. And it’s kind of a joke if you do cross it and you’re a hardcore other side of the river person. Like,oh, you’re going to make me cross the river to go to some pub? Nah, mate, we’ve got pubs down here.”

She laughed, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she looked me over. I could see it there, on her face, the way she didn’t fully understand yet, but how she knew this meant something to me. “So, you brought me here to go to a pub?”

“Not exactly.” I took a deep breath and finally looked across the road. It felt like getting pummeled. That was okay. “The venue there.”

I saw her frown in my peripheral vision and follow my gaze. “Yes?”

It had been there forever. A tiny place, really, but people packed in, the walls shook with the bass from the bands playing, it smelled like beer, and every part of it felt like it had only been five minutes since I’d been inside.

“The last time I was here was four years, seven months, and nineteen days ago,” I told her.

“Oh.” The sound was barely more than a breath, sucked in with surprise and understanding.

“I haven’t crossed the river since then.”

Her hand found mine, weaving our fingers together, and her touch was so grounding I didn’t even feel the need to trouble my lip with my teeth.

“Your brother played there?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mm. With his band.” I laughed. “It was a rock band, not the classical school band we’d been in as kids. This place was his favourite to play. I think he had a crush on the bartender.”

Lydia smiled softly at me. “What were they like?”

“The band or the bartender?”

She laughed. “Both.”

I laughed with her, the sound easy despite the pressure in my chest. “The bartender had platinum blonde hair, close shaved on the sides, longer on the top. Muscles and tattoos for days. Biker boots, and a dirty laugh. She looked at him like she could destroy him, and he looked at her like he wanted her to do exactly that.”

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