Page 138 of The Last Love Song
‘No thanks, Freddy. I’ll be fine, really.’ Con winced as he touched it. ‘I’m sure it looks worse than it is.’
‘I’ll call you a car then. Go home and let Sorcha nurse you. Maybe now isn’t the time to go into detail about what just took place.’
Con nodded as Freddy went back to the control room and dialled reception.
‘Car’s ordered. Where are the others?’
‘Derek left and Ian’s yet to arrive,’ murmured Con.
‘Typical. So, I suppose supper’s off then?’
‘Could be looking that way.’
‘Okay. Come on, I’ve asked the car to meet us right outside the door. Don’t think it would do for Con Daly’s screaming fans to see him like this. Can you stand?’
Con heaved himself out of the chair. ‘Yeah.’ He followed Freddy out of the recording suite and up the stairs into reception. A car pulled up outside and beeped its horn.
‘There you go.’ Freddy ran to open the door. ‘Hop in. Listen, I’ll give you a bell tomorrow to see how you are. You’d better fill me in then as to exactly what’s going on.’
‘Sure. Thanks, Freddy.’
Freddy closed the door and the car sped off along the road. Sighing heavily, he made his way back inside and down to the recording suite.
Ian was floating down the corridor towards him, wearing a long, garish kaftan. He made the peace sign to Freddy. ‘Hi, man, what’s occurring? Where are the others?’
For some reason the bizarre sight of Ian – at least two hours late and in a complete world of his own – caused Freddy to burst into laughter.
‘Gone, Ian. You missed ’em, mate. Hold on two ticks while I turn the lights off in the recording suite, and you and I will go for a beer.’
‘Not beer, man. I don’t like beer.’
‘Well, whatever tickles your fancy. I need a drink.’
The two of them walked back upstairs to reception.
Freddy leant over the desk and smiled at the young receptionist. ‘Could you send someone down to recording suite number three? There’s a bit of a mess that needs clearing up.’ Freddy tapped his nose. ‘Keep it between you and me, can you?’
‘Of course, sir.’
‘Thanks, Melody. See you soon.’
Freddy put an arm round Ian and steered him to the front door.
‘Let’s find a boozer, old son.’
Con studied his nose in the mirror. It was numb and did seem wonkier than usual. He’d broken it once before in a punch-up when he was a kid. He’d see how it looked tomorrow and maybe visit the Royal Free if it still didn’t feel quite right. The rest of the cuts and bruises seemed pretty superficial. Con dabbed at them clumsily with TCP.
‘Jesus, what a day...what a week,’ he sighed to his reflection.
That bitch, Lulu...Not only had she given Todd that nonsense story, but she’d obviously been the one who’d spilled the beans to Sorcha.
‘Hell hath no fury...’ he mumbled.
Con decided the best thing to do was to take a couple of aspirin for his throbbing head and have an early night. He was starving, but since Sorcha had left, the supplies had run low. If she were here now, she’d tend to him. He missed her...he really missed her...
Opening the medicine cabinet, Con pulled out the aspirin, filled up a toothmug with water and swallowed them down.
He stripped off his bloody T-shirt and jeans, feeling too exhausted even to take a shower, and went to the bedroom.
