Page 24 of Best Mistake Ever
She doesn’t seem to be able to meet my eyes now, clearly finding it difficult to accept the compliment. Again, I’m a bit baffled by this. I would have expected her to react very differently, based on what I know of her. She’s never struck me as the modest type.
The sofa facing the fireplace becomes free as a couple stand up to leave and I gesture towards it. ‘Take a break for a minute?’ I suggest.
She nods, if a little hesitantly, and sits down with me, our thighs close but not touching. The sofa is an old one and sags a little in the middle so we naturally lean in towards each other. I feel the heat from her body radiating towards me and breathe in her sweet scent, shifting uncomfortably as my body responds to it in a wholly inappropriate way again.
What the hell’s got into me?
‘Thanks,’ she says, after a moment of awkward silence as we both shuffle around and finally settle ourselves into a more professionally suitable position. ‘I’ve always loved singing. I used to be in the choir at school but I had to give it up because rehearsals were taking too much out of my study time.’
‘Really? I’d have thought it was a good way to unwind.’
‘I was too much of a swot for that.’
I frown, not entirely able to picture it. ‘Apparently, music’s brilliant for cognitive development though.’
She laughs, as if I’ve said something funny. ‘Try telling that to my dad.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘He’s not a fan of the arts?’
‘You could say that.’ Her frown returns and I have a strong desire to smooth it away with my fingertips. But I resist the impulse.
‘He’s never been that keen on us spending time on the arts. He’s business-focused through and through.’
‘Us?’ I ask. ‘You have siblings?’ I suddenly find I want to know more about her. That the vulnerability I witnessed when she was singing has me by the throat.
She stiffens, as if I’ve asked too personal a question and I’m about to tell her she doesn’t need to answer when she says, ‘Yes. A sister.’
When she looks at me, there’s a strange expression in her eyes. Perhaps she’s a little wary now after I told her off for flirting with me the other day. I’m going to have to tread carefully here so as not to cross the professional line I drew. But a few questions about her background shouldn’t be a problem.
‘Do the two of you not get on?’ I guess.
‘No, no, we do. We’re very different people, but I love her to bits. She can be a bit frustrating, but then can’t all siblings?’ She attempts a smile now and I nod back.
‘Yeah, my brother used to drive me nuts when we were younger. See this scar?’ I point to a small, white line above my right eyebrow.
She leans forward a little and peers at the place I’m pointing to. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘I got this when he pushed me into that fireplace.’ I point at the offending structure: a large, carved Bath-stone fire surround and mantelpiece which is a beautiful feature of the room. ‘It was after I beat him at Monopoly. I was fifteen and he was thirteen. I have to admit, I was gloating about it to piss him off, but even so.’ I fake a look of abject hurt and I’m pleased to see her properly smile now.
‘I didn’t realise your family has had this house for so long.’
‘Yeah, my dad bought it when I was a young kid and we used to spend some of our summers here. That’s why I’m so keen to keep it in the family. Good memories. It has to pay for itself though; upkeep is not cheap and I’m determined to pay my own way.’
‘So being a musician didn’t make you rich then?’ she asks.
A common misconception.
‘Ha! No. Sadly not. When you’re as famous as my dad, then yes, it does. But not a small fry like me. I never made it to the “big time”, despite all the effort I put in.’ I shrug, attempting nonchalance. I don’t want her to know how much that failure has played into where I am with my life now. If I’d still been a musician, I’m pretty damn sure Tessa would still be around. She loved the fame, even if it was only the adjacent fame that came with being part of the music scene.
‘So you don’t play at all now?’ I’m surprised to see she looks concerned by this.
I shrug. ‘I love playing my guitar, but I’m done with performing for strangers. It’s way too stressful. Especially when you have a powerhouse of a father like mine to live up to, but only a small percentage of his talent – or so the music press like to suggest.’
She frowns again, but this time in sympathy. ‘That sucks.’
‘Yeah. Big time. I’ve had this weight of expectation pressing down on me all my life. I kind of leaned into it and went a bit wild – got myself a reputation for partying a bit too hard, to be honest. People anticipated I’d follow in my dad’s footsteps by being a musician too, but as soon as I took that path, they did everything they could to cut me down. I’ve had a lot of hate on social media from random strangers who seem to have taken real offence to me just being alive. People despise me for being a “nepo baby” even though I worked my arse off to get where I did. I used to love playing music, but I’ve always known I’ll never beas good at it as my dad, so it got to the stage where I just thought, what’s the point? So I stopped trying.’
‘I’m sorry you were made to feel like that.’
