I met him at a rooftop bar in the city, not far from where he’d been playing. I almost felt bad leaving my mother, but she laughed and told me to go. I had a feeling she might call Sam to keep her company, and perhaps, strangely, she was exactly the person he would want to hear from, on a night like this. A night to talk about daughters and family and fate and love.
Skyline was one of those bars that was so beautiful, you almost convinced yourself the scenery was worth the surcharge. The drinks were expensive, and often I dreamed of moaning about how pretentious everyone was, how even the clientele seemed to be unnaturally beautiful. But everyone was always so pleasant that it was impossible to moan. I seated myself at the bar, admiring the huge display of fresh pink lilies in the glass vase. At least I’d dressed myself up a little before Mum and I came out again. I felt more like Bel. Like I could stand tall and prepare myself.
‘What can I get you?’ the bartender asked, flipping his gorgeous blonde hair and giving me a dazzling smile.
‘Vodka Martini, please.’
He nodded and set about his work, placing a little tray of nibbles in front of me, next to the coaster.
‘Well, hello there.’ Brodie slid onto the bar stool next to me. ‘Didn’t know if you’d show.’
‘I said I would.’
‘You also ran out on my second set. Totally missed my excellent rendition of “Time After Time”. Ya know, once people started getting bored of new material and demanding covers. What every musician dreams of.’
That smile was as cocky and easy as it had ever been. It was like no time had passed for him. The beautiful bartender appeared, as if out of thin air.
‘Can I get you a drink, sir?’
‘Your most poncy beer, please, pal.’
The bartender hid a smile and nodded before placing my drink down in front of me. I checked for fingerprints and smudges on the glass immediately. Finding it sparkling, I touched the glass to check the temperature.
‘Well isn’t someone the classy lady now?’ Brodie laughed. ‘Long way away from cans of cider on the sea front.’
‘It was a long time ago,’ I said needlessly, staring at the drink, trying to stop my heart from thumping as I heard him say it quietly.
‘Feels like yesterday to me.’
The bartender served Brodie’s beer and checked back with me, almost nervous after noticing my inspection. ‘Everything all right with your drink?’
Both men waited in silence as I lifted the drink to my lips and sipped. I took a second sip just to be sure. The bartender flicked his hair, and I noticed the eyebrow piercing.
‘What’s your name?’ I asked innocently, and watched as a worried look crossed his face.
‘Billy.’ He paused, looking around. ‘Madam, if you’d like me to remake your drink…’
‘Billy, I think you should come and work for me.’
‘Oh, should I now? And what should I do?’ He laughed in disbelief, but I could tell he took the compliment the way it was intended. Plus, it made me feel important, plucking people from places and offering them something. Seeing potential.
‘Well, you could be my personal cocktail maker, but actually, I run a club.’ I handed him my card. ‘This place is pretty wonderful, darling, but if you ever want something a little on the darker side, let me know. That’s the best Martini I’ve tasted in a long time.’
Brodie reached over to take the business card from the bartender. ‘Arabella Hailstone? The Martini Club.’
A laugh seemed to hover around his lips, as if he wasn’t sure what to say.
‘So, I guess you’re not a ballerina.’
I gestured at myself, too short, too round, too much of everything. ‘Do I look like a ballerina?’
‘I don’t know, you look like Bel. You look like someone I’m glad to see.’ Smooth. He paid for the drinks and Billy waved at me as we walked over to the terrace, my business card between his fingers like he was about to do a magic trick.
We seated ourselves on soft cushions on an L-shaped sofa, a breathtaking view of the city beneath us. It was a quiet night, which was a relief. Somewhere I didn’t have to compete with a crowd or struggle to hear. We had enough stories to share.
‘So,’ Brodie said, sitting an arm’s length away from me. He could reach out his fingertips and touch my neck. Not that he would. But still, even a respectable distance apart felt a little too close.
‘So,’ I repeated. I tried to ignore that spectacular view twinkling at me. ‘It seems impossible to know where to start.’
‘The new name, maybe?’ He grinned, sipping from his bottle of beer.
‘It’s not new, it’s years old now. And it’s a version of the truth. I’m still Bel. I just didn’t want to be Annabelle Stone any more. I wanted something of my own.’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I get that. It was always weird that she named you after herself. How is she?’
‘Mum?’ I blew out my breath in a strong low sigh. ‘Well, she turned up on my doorstep a few days ago after I tried to cut off her pocket money, so… I’m slowly losing my mind. But actually, we had a bit of a breakthrough this evening. We may get somewhere near normal. How’s Tina?’
A sad smile flickered across his face. ‘Passed away a few years ago.’
‘Oh God, Brodie, I’m so sorry.’
I’d loved Tina. She was exactly what I thought a mum should be – warm and kind and funny. She’d always made me welcome in their tiny house full of smelly, loud boys. She used to give me her pink mug for a cup of tea, and always sneaked me biscuits before the boys got hold of them. She had MS, and she was very aware of getting weaker, but when I knew her, it was more like something that hovered around her shoulders. We knew she was getting worse, but I’d never really considered that she would ever not exist.
I felt a little pang for Brodie, who had always been her hero, always protecting her and wanting the best for her.
‘She had a good run, she was happy,’ he said, but shifted in his seat a little, looking past my left ear rather than my eyes. ‘The boys are doing well. Jason’s a landscape gardener, happily married, got a gorgeous little girl. Tom’s finally finished travelling and is using his degree, working as an architect.’
‘Wow.’ I blinked. ‘They were babies five minutes ago. Tom was always smart, you could tell even then, that look of intense concentration when he used to play with his toys, colour coding, drawing maps and colouring them in.’
‘Remember that summer you set them up an epic pirate trail?’ Brodie grinned at the thought of it, shaking his head. ‘You hand drew and coloured all those little maps, and buried sweets and toys at different parts of the beach and parks, and made all those rhyming clues—’
‘And you kept singing each one in a weird pirate voice, and we both wore eye patches and kept walking into each other?’
‘The boys couldn’t breathe for laughing.’ He smiled at me, those crinkles around his eyes more pronounced now, signs of a life lived, and one spent smiling.
‘We had some good times,’ I said unnecessarily. Even now, something about this man made my stomach itch, and I crossed and uncrossed my legs before sipping at my drink. I didn’t know how to be. It felt wrong to try and be Bel in front of him, and yet I couldn’t be that awkward, angry girl I was back then.
‘So… you came to London. Was it to dance?’
I shook my head, then shrugged. ‘Sort of, but also not really.’
‘Good.’ He nodded, laughing. ‘Very clear and straightforward.’
‘I… we… I needed to escape. I needed to do something. I modelled, acted, danced… and in the meantime I bartended, temped as a cater waiter… everything.’
Brodie twirled his hand, as if to tell me to go on. ‘And then suddenly you owned a bar?’
Nope, I got married, got sick, ran away… and I’d really rather you didn’t know that.
‘I… hit rock bottom, I guess. I wasn’t getting enough work, and the modelling especially made me feel worthless. I kept trying to lose more weight to get the jobs, I was gaunt and tired and sick all the time, and I had to quit. I had to get out.’ I took a quick glug of my drink before I stopped myself. ‘I’d started to hate dancing, you remember how it was back home? How something I’d loved became a horrible burden?’
He nodded, eyes round with concern.
‘It was the same with everything. And one of the photographers, he saw something in me. Not in front of the screen, but how I looked after the other girls, made them laugh. So I became his assistant for a while, and then he offered me a place and I became his tenant…’
‘Uh oh, I see where this is going.’ Brodie made a face, gritting his teeth. ‘Sugar daddy?’
‘No! Jesus! That was Sam.’ I shoved him half-heartedly, ‘Sam who you just met?’
Brodie blinked in shock. ‘Sam Callaghan is your landlord?’
I shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
‘Sam Callaghan, musical genius, frontman of Simple Injustice, is your landlord?’
‘They were a big deal, huh?’
Brodie vibrated in his chair. ‘Bel, I used to play their songs at the open mics. That man is brilliant. And now he’s a photographer?’
‘He’s got many talents. And he heard something in your music that made him drag me along tonight. If that means anything?’
Brodie nodded, taking a deep breath. ‘It really does. You have no idea. After a while it gets hard to keep slogging on. The number of mis-starts and false hope over the years. Finally, you realize there are no big breaks, there’s just being lucky, unlucky and continuing to work regardless.’
‘I don’t know, darling, you had a crowd of adoring people clapping for you this evening – seems like being lucky to me.’ I smiled and was shaken by those eyes meeting mine, piercing and grateful.
‘So, you didn’t finish the story. You were here, you were struggling, you met Sam… is that how you got the club, through knowing Sam?’
I shook my head. ‘No. I mean, the decent rent helped, of course, but it was actually discovering burlesque that changed everything.’
Brodie raised an eyebrow. ‘Right…’
I shook my head. ‘Don’t make that face. Burlesque is about celebration. It felt like freedom after years of constricting and control and diet and strength. Burlesque is about being strong too, but it’s also about softness and sensuality and flirtation.’
I grinned at him, noting his awkwardness. ‘Is that a blush there, darling? Don’t like the idea of a woman swinging her bazookas about onstage?’
He pressed his lips together to hold the laugh in, but failed, squawking slightly. ‘Bazookas!’
I shrugged nonchalantly, feeling incredibly like myself all of a sudden. I tilted my hip and finished my drink. ‘Shall we have another?’
He held up his empty bottle between his fingertips. ‘I’ll go. Same again?’
I should have said no. I should have been sensible. But the nostalgia and surprise and quiet, thumping joy was a little too much.
‘Same again. And a big glass of water, please, darling.’
That wide cat smile again as he mimicked me. ‘Absolutely, darling.’
It was okay. It felt okay.
It felt more than that, but I was trying to hold it together. There’s always that person you wonder about, the one your mind drifts to in quiet times. In most cases it’s completely harmless, a sense of nostalgia, fondness: I wonder how they’re doing, I hope they have a happy life. Brodie was that for me, the person I thought about every now and then.
Except that made it seem small. Brodie had been the one perfect thing from my life back home. Those couple of years he was in Eastbourne I had laughed and dreamed and got to be a teenager. In some ways, being around his brothers, I even got to be a kid again.
My life with Mum had been structure and diet and control and perfect, perfect, do it again until it’s perfect. Sneaking off with Brodie, spending time with his crazy, loving, messy family – it was like a different world. A world with chocolate-glazed doughnuts with sprinkles, and chocolate digestives out of a huge cookie jar shaped like a polar bear. With cups of tea whilst Tina wanted me to show off my dance moves. When I was so exhausted from all my training, and Mum was never pleased, that thin line of a mouth as she demanded I spend the night remembering that I was meant to be better, that I had a legacy to fulfil, Tina’s delight at a basic pirouette was a balm. She’d clap her hands and whoop at the simplest moves, and one night after another second-place performance, they asked me to show them what I’d done, right there in their living room. The boys pushed the coffee table out of the way and squished onto the sofa to watch me.
I almost cried as I danced, remembering Mum’s look of utter despair, and how she wouldn’t talk to me in the car ride home. I had been such a disappointment to her.
I did cry in their living room when I finished, and each of them threw a flower at my feet. Little paper origami roses, in red and pink and orange, the twisted green stems attached with glue and still tacky. I’d kept them in my bedroom in a glass, as if they were real flowers, and I’d even taken them with me to London when we first moved, placed in the bedside drawer for safekeeping. I couldn’t remember if I’d thought to take them when I left. I hated to think of them rotting away in that smoky room, getting dirtier every day I wasn’t there.
Brodie broke my thoughts, placing the drink in front of me.
‘Can you still make those origami roses?’ I asked suddenly.
The smile on his face was pure sunshine. I’d forgotten what it was like to watch someone’s emotions in that way. I used to do it at the studio when Sam was taking pictures – identifying the exact moment someone remembered something wonderful, or sad, or painful.
‘Of all the things to ask about. I think I can, I haven’t tried. You angling for a present, Miss Bel?’
‘Just nostalgia, I guess.’
‘Well, I’d say we’re allowed, considering the weird twist of fate that brought us together.’
I paused, watching his face. ‘So you think there’s something strange about this too, right? I mean, have you been in London all this time?’
‘Last seven years or so. I tried to look you up, but you aren’t on social media or anything.’
I shrugged. ‘I sort of did a rebrand, didn’t see the point of being online. Besides, I was too busy.’
‘Building an empire,’ he said.
‘Something like that. I have just had the freakiest week, people and things from the past appearing left, right and centre. And then there you are, standing onstage singing—’
‘The same song I sang the night I left.’
I struggled to look up and meet his eyes, feeling my whole body contract. Don’t mention that night, why did he have to mention it? Why couldn’t we pretend that whole thing had never happened? We’d parted as friends and that was it.
When I did finally look up, he was smiling, that soft, gorgeous smile that had always made me feel a little out of control. He was never a man who was afraid of intense eye contact.
‘I think maybe fate’s playing a little trick on us, Bel.’
What was with everyone and fate?
Brodie chuckled, leaning in, ‘I have a feeling we were meant to be at that gig tonight, with me playing that song. Maybe I’ll tell you why one day.’
‘Intriguing.’ I laughed, suddenly so awkward. So it wasn’t just me. Coincidences were stacking up. Fate, or timing, or whatever it was, something was happening. My life was not in my control, and that was starting to make me a little pissed off.
‘Well, what were the odds? I mean, really?’ Brodie shuffled closer, excitable, until I felt his arm brush against mine. ‘All these years without a word, and I’m playing that song…’
‘And I don’t tend to frequent pubs where my feet stick to the floor any more,’ I said, taking a sip of my drink and sighing a little. ‘Not really my style.’
I tried to change the subject away from that song, that moment in time that I was still frozen in, my teenage self watching as Brodie Porter walked away and left me behind.
‘Ooh, la di da!’ His laugh was as warm as the breeze, and I took a second to look at the skyline again. My sanctuary, this city. Somewhere out there Aria was arguing with her boyfriend, Jacques was cuddling with his partner while doing the crossword, my mother was flirting with Sam and seeing if she could make him blush. And Euan was out there too, doing something. Conning someone out of their shirt, or getting beaten up for getting greedy, no doubt.
‘It’s not that, I just… I run a bar. The desire to go out and drink pretty much evaporates.’
Well, that was a lie.
The silence settled and we listed for a moment to the two women behind us discussing a third friend who sounded like a nightmare. Their voices were loud and sharp, and somehow just sitting there together, smiling at each other, was enough.
Until my skin got fluttery and I didn’t know where to look.
‘Hey, speaking of nostalgia, I’ve got an idea.’ He slipped forward to the edge of his seat and reached into his back pocket.
‘You’re not…’
He placed a deck of cards down on the table.
‘Are you kidding? You still carry a pack of cards with you?’ I snorted. ‘You know we live in a digital age, right? You’ll never be bored. There’s always someone somewhere who needs to show you a picture of their kale and Kaffir lime salad. Or a picture of them looking like a fawn.’
‘That’s not real connection, Bel. Besides, I don’t go in for all that. If you’re waiting for sound checking to end, got to entertain some kids, stop teenagers whining… maybe even make a little money…’ He wiggled his eyebrows.
‘You don’t!’
‘Only with the sound techs, they’re big and ugly enough to lose their money fair and square. Their wives would be proud, they can’t lie for shit.’ He started dealing the cards out between us.
‘Wait, what are we playing?’
That wide grin. ‘Snap!’
‘Snap.’
He pointed a finger at me. ‘You catch on quickly.’
‘Brodie.’
He held his hands up, still grinning. ‘Every time someone gets snap, they get to ask the other person a question. It’s Snap: Nostalgia Edition.’
‘Can’t believe I’m on a fancy London rooftop bar and I’m playing snap.’ I took a sip of my drink and squared my shoulders. ‘Okay, let’s do this.’
‘What’s wrong with Snap?’
I waved it away. ‘We haven’t started playing yet. No questions.’
‘That’s hardly a personal question.’
‘Fashion is intensely personal,’ I replied. ‘Let’s go.’
The tension was somehow palpable as we placed each card down.
‘Snap!’ Brodie’s hand slammed down on mine, and I waited for the question, but held up a hand.
‘Don’t waste it asking about something stupid, seriously.’
He twitched a smile, at me, sitting back with his beer as he overly considered his options.
‘You dating, married, what?’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Very interesting first question, darling.’
He shrugged. ‘Enquiring minds want to know – was there ever a man who could tame Annabelle Stone?’
I laughed. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think stranger things have happened.’
I sipped at my drink and tried to figure out the best way to tell the truth without being honest. A constant struggle.
‘I’ve always been better as a lone wolf. No surprise there. Was married very briefly, didn’t take.’ I twitched a shoulder. ‘A lifetime ago now, no biggie. You?’
‘Am I involved, or am I married?’ Brodie grinned, a hint of that old flirtation I remembered. Nostalgia was like a drug. The power of time travel. To stand opposite this man, both of us in different bodies, in a different town, and yet I felt the way I did at sixteen, heart thumping, flushed and awkward. I had been ice cold and sharp for so many years, not letting anyone close enough to know me. It was the only way to stay safe in a city full of strangers who could pull down everything I’d worked for.
I could see why back in the day people married the people they loved when they were teenagers – they met and they fell in love and they started their lives as soon as possible. Because the world is big and scary, and what you know is usually better than what you can’t imagine.
I was sixteen when I felt my stomach erupt into butterflies, and my heart pound like it was warning me of danger up ahead. And from then on, no matter the fun or the obsession or the silliness masquerading as love, I never felt butterflies again. I always thought it was an age thing. I’d outgrown the opportunity. Butterflies didn’t exist in real life.
And yet, there was a feeling in my stomach and a flush on my cheeks.
‘I think you’ll have to wait until you win at snap.’ Brodie grinned. ‘But good to know you’re interested there, darlin’.’
It was funny to hear the way he said the word, the faint burr of that Northern Irish accent that he’d never quite lost, so different to the clipped way I used it, as a weapon. His was easy, carefree, used for anyone he’d waste a smile on.
I rolled my eyes. ‘Don’t flatter yourself.’
‘I’ll give you a free pass on this one – I was married, for a time. Like you say, just didn’t stick.’ There was still a little pain behind those eyes, something strangely sincere. But he smiled anyway.
‘That’s strange, I always saw you settled in that way – family man through and through.’
‘You’ve got to do it for the right reasons. Not just pick the person nearby when you’re ready for an adventure. The person has to be the right person.’
I nodded. ‘And timing is pretty damn important.’
He smiled at me, that look of regret speaking louder than his words. ‘I’ve never been great with that.’
‘Me neither.’
The evening passed easily, a game of snap that was half-hearted and flittered away into questions and answers. Stupid things – the last band we’d seen, the best restaurant in London, north or south of the river. We talked about our mothers, rent in the city and a hundred other things that weren’t important.
It was the same as it had always been – two decades had passed and here I was sitting with Brodie Porter talking about nothing and smiling until my face hurt. We’d switched sitting on the beach for a rooftop bar, but other than that, it was like nothing had changed.
I wondered how he saw me, if he was looking for age and experience on my face, in my eyes. I’d only improved since my teenager years, and the same was true for him. He’d grown into who he was. He was more relaxed – he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders any more. When I’d known Brodie before it was his job to look after the family. His dreams had to come second to looking after his brothers and his mum. But he still fought for them – they came second, but they mattered.
‘I don’t want this night to end. When this night ends tomorrow is going to be hard,’ I whined as we ambled along the street, apparently towards a Tube station but not in any hurry.
‘Because of the hangover?’ He nudged me with his elbow.
‘No, because my business is getting kicked in the tits and tomorrow I have to summon enough energy to be a badass owner who can fix everything.’ I shook my head.
‘And can you? Fix everything?’
I blew out a breath and shrugged. ‘Do you want the answer from Arabella Hailstone, owner of the Martini Club, or Bel Stone, runaway fuck-up?’
We were entering Covent Garden, and he held up his hands to stop me, then went over to lean against a bollard. ‘Okay, hit me with Arabella Hailstone, fierce business owner.’
I lifted my chin, dropped my shoulders and pushed out my chest. I ensured my voice was a little more sharp, and as I met Brodie’s eyes I saw him take in the shift.
‘Well, darling, the thing is that I built this business from the ground up, I’ve put in blood, sweat and tears and I’ll be damned if some snooty reviewer, a bunch of investor wankers and some bad luck is going to take it from me. So let’s get to fucking work.’
Brodie clapped. ‘Very good, inspirational, very Gone with the Wind. I really believe you’ll never go hungry again.’
‘You’re never going to forgive me for making you watch that, are you?’
He waved it away. ‘It made Mum happy. She never got to watch stuff like that with all the boys in the house. Anyway, I’ve seen feisty faux-posh business owner, now I want to see what you’d say if you were being the other you.’
I let all the strength drain out of me, my shoulders collapse with the weight of the responsibility. I let the fear and panic rise up as I thought about what would happen if I failed to save the club, if it caved and I had to crawl out with no money, no dignity and no friends. The one thing I’d built and loved and created just crashing and burning.
I took a breath, and felt my voice catch.
‘If I lose my club, I will be losing the only thing that I have in my life. I don’t have a partner, I don’t really have friends. I have work. I have my club. And I have to seem like this strong captain of the ship who has all the answers.’ I pressed my lips together and looked up at the dark summer sky, not a hint of starlight. ‘When honestly I just don’t know what to do. I have to save it, I have to fix it and I have to lead. And it kills me because I just don’t know how.’
I didn’t want to meet his eyes. It was too much honesty; the chance to be vulnerable with someone I trusted was just too tempting. I didn’t have that anywhere else, except perhaps with Sam, who would tell me to pull myself up by the bootstraps and get the hell on with it.
But really, all I wanted, as embarrassing as it was, was for someone to stroke my hair, let me cry and tell me everything was going to be okay.
Drunken people around us laughed and hooted, young women clinging to each other as they wobbled in heels across the cobblestones.
‘Oh Bel,’ Brodie said, sympathy making his eyes droop at the corners. He stood and opened his arms to me. ‘Come on. Bring it in. You know you want to.’
I shuffled forward, pretending to be reticent. ‘You don’t have to be so abominably nice about everything. I don’t want pity.’
‘You never pitied me when I told you my sad tale of woe.’ He squeezed me. ‘It’s not pity if you’re standing by your friend saying, “Man, that’s a fucking shitshow and I’m sorry”.’
‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘That’s what I’m saying.’ He pulled back and I immediately missed the warmth, but looked up into those green eyes and couldn’t help but smile.
‘If it helps, I don’t think it matters which version of you is in charge, because you’re a warrior and you get shit done.’
‘How?’
Brodie smiled suddenly, before putting out his hand. ‘Mobile, please.’
I handed it over and watched him type in his number.
‘You gave me some advice all those years ago, when I totally bombed that gig with the recording agent and was thinking about giving up music.’ He handed me back the phone with a smug smile. ‘If you can’t remember what it was by tomorrow, text me and I’ll remind you.’
I could feel my forehead wrinkling as I tried to remember, and shook my head. ‘Was it particularly good advice?’
‘It has served me well over the years.’ He put an arm round me and started leading us towards the Tube station. I leaned into him, taking a disgusting amount of delight in the interaction.
When we were through the barriers and standing at the split of the two platforms, it was clear that he was going one way and I was going another. Something in my chest ached just a little, like that feeling of pulling two magnets away from each other, resisting energy.
‘Thank you for a gloriously strange evening before I go into battle tomorrow. I think I needed reminding of something… I don’t know what, but…’ I shook my head and clasped his hands, the booze making me too effusive, too open. ‘I guess I’m saying it was good to see you, Brodie.’
‘I have started to believe in fate and circumstance these last couple of years, Bel.’ He grinned, pulling me in for a hug. ‘And tonight you confirmed it.’ He kissed me on the cheek and I held my breath, my pathetic 16-year-old self deep down inside doing a jig. We were fated, that’s what he meant. He needed me as much as I needed him today. It had just all been a matter of timing that had dragged us to this point.
The world cared about Brodie Porter and Annabelle Stone.
I tried to stop myself from spinning off on a drunken tangent of lazy weekends at farmers’ markets, dancing to vinyl in my flat and drinking cold bottles of beer. Being grown-ups together in this wonderful city, where anything was possible.
I turned and launched myself towards my train, and as I jumped on and turned back, Brodie called across to me, those eyes twinkling, dimples in his cheeks from his grin.
‘Hey, Bel!’
‘Yeah?’
‘Even if you remember that excellent advice? Text me anyway!’
That huge smile stayed on my face right until I reached my front door.