Page 12 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘Totally. He’s missed the chance to be on the telly.’

‘Great exposure for my buddy though. He lives up north, so normally only catches gigs there. It was pure luck that he’d decided not to take a gig and come here with me this year, so he was available to step in. There aren’t many accordionists available at the last minute on Hogmanay.’

‘I bet. Lucky for him… not so much for you.’ I feel a wave of empathy for Jamie having found himself celebrating New Year alone, as I very nearly did myself.

‘Shit happens.’ Jamie shrugs, non-plussed by it all. ‘I’ll catch up with him when he’s done. By the way, Happy New Year to you.’ He catches me off guard by leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek.

His close-cut beard tickles my face while his musky eau de toilette teases my nostrils, sending a rush of feeling through me that I recognise as desire; a feeling I haven’t felt since Connor and I were early in our relationship, but I can still remember what it was like. As quickly as it washes over me, it’s replaced by a further wave of nausea.

‘You OK?’ Jamie’s peering at me in a perplexed manner.

‘Oh… yes… sorry. I’m fine.’

‘You look a bit like you did earlier at the Christmas Market. You’re not about to do another bolt on me, are you?’

‘No.Definitely not.’ I plant what I hope is a convincing smile on my face.

‘Well, that’s a relief. Not sure my self-esteem can take a second blanking from the same beautiful woman.’

‘You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?’ I give him a playful nudge, and then feel a tug that I recognise as my conscience telling me to be up front.

Scrutinising Jamie’s face to try to get a proper measure of him, I decide that honesty is the way forward. I’ll likely never see him again after tonight anyway, so what does it matter what I tell him?

‘Can I share something with you?’

‘You can tell me anything.’ He touches my arm reassuringly. ‘Think of me as your New Year confidante.’

‘OK…’ I take a deep breath to make sure I deliver this with some composure. ‘Until this afternoon, I had been in a relationship since I was sixteen. I’m a lot older than that now as you can probably tell—’

‘And thank goodness for that, otherwise I’d be a bad, bad man luring you to the bar with me.’

I giggle. ‘Indeed you would. Anyway… my high-school sweetheart whom I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, broke up with me this afternoon.’

Jamie looks mildly taken aback. ‘Well, he’s an idiot. Is he blind?’

‘No.He’s… gay, as it turns out. He’s left me for a bloke.’

‘Sh-i-i-t.’ He exhales heavily at this revelation, his eyes immediately filling with sympathy, which feels a little demeaning, but the Prosecco at least takes the edge off. ‘That’s rough, Steph. No wonder you had a whitey when I made that comment about you both being single.’

‘A what?’

‘A whitey. Normally used to describe an unpleasant reaction to cannabis: you go pale and throw up. It seems to fit your reaction nicely.’

‘Right.’ I raise a questioning eyebrow.

‘I don’t smoke it myself.’ He shakes his head to accentuate this point. ‘I used to volunteer at the youth club where I grew up. They have a programme to try and keep the teenagers away from drugs – or get them off them, as it was for some. Those kids used to talk about people “whitey-ing” all the time.’

‘Seems fairly accurate. That’s cool that you did that volunteer work.’

‘It wasn’t a big deal. I went to the same youth club when I was young. It kept me on the straight and narrow, so I wanted to give back, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do.’ A pulse of excitement darts through me as I realise Jamie is a kindred spirit who cares about giving and helping others too. ‘My day job is at a charity that supports young adults with difficult home circumstances – people who find themselves being turfed out for whatever reason, and who are too old to get support from the system. Our aim is to help them set up on their own, and give them a chance at a future.’

‘Sounds like a job with a real sense of purpose.’

‘I love it. I work on the fundraising side of things these days, seeking out regular donors, setting up charity events, that kind of thing.’

We finally reach the front of the queue and make our order; then, drinks in hand, we return to the spot where we were standing before. I look around for Anna, but she’s nowhere to be seen. This doesn’t concern me at all. She’s the adventurous type: likes making new friends, but also very protective. I know she will be back to check on me, if she hasn’t already got eyes on me from afar.

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