Ginny scratched her head at the array of listings in multiple languages being flashed across various screens. She was beginning to regret not asking Ash to organise a pick-up for her to take her from Copenhagen to Roskilde, but she hadn’t wanted to make too big a deal of her return. She wanted it to be a surprise, even though they’d agreed to meet there.
‘Know where the taxi rank is?’ she asked the girl with the Cruella de Vil hair who was standing next to her.
‘Outside, but good luck with getting one that doesn’t rip you off. Where you trying to get to? Might be a bus is a better bet.’
‘Roskilde. It’s a rock festival. I think it’s south of here.’
‘North there’s just a lot of ocean, so yes, south. The quickest way will be by train. The festival has its own station to help cut down on the number of cars. Are you meeting friends there?’
‘Boyfriend. Kind of,’ she replied.
‘What, you think you’re meeting him, or he’s only sort of your boyfriend?’ The girl grinned at her. She had a wide, generous mouth and a sweet, heart-shaped face that were somewhat incongruous with her starkly coloured hair. Ginny found herself grinning back.
‘Oh, he’s my boyfriend all right. He’s just a bit shy about admitting it.’ Although she hoped by now he’d got over that a little. He’d promised faithfully that he’d tell his friends, so that it wouldn’t be necessary for them to sneak around all the time.
‘Is that him calling now?’
Ginny glanced down at the phone in her hand to see that the screen had lit, just as the strains of Ash’s favourite song, ‘Lilith Licked’, began to play, alerting her to an incoming text.
‘Hey, Black Halo,’ the girl observed. ‘Love them. They’re supposed to be playing the festival. Guess you like them too, huh?’
‘You could say that. I’m dating one of them.’ The admission – God, it felt good not to be hiding behind a cloak of secrecy; she’d told Ash categorically that she wasn’t going to do that any more – prompted an incredulous ‘oh!’ from the girl.
‘Yeah, course you are. Is that why he’s only sort of your boyfriend, because he’s really just an image printed on a pillowcase?’
‘Does your pillowcase send you texts?’ she asked, raising her brows to seem equally incredulous.
‘Touché. What does he have to say?’
Ginny turned her attention to Ash’s message. It was the same one he’d sent every day, at least twice a day, since she’d left him standing on the wet tarmac in the shadow of the overpass outside the Lotto Arena in Antwerp.
When are you coming home?
Not back or here, but home, to him. It was kind of soppily romantic, but then, beneath his black leather and guy-liner and his snarly on-stage persona, Ash was a big softie.
Just as she’d responded to each of his previous messages, she replied: Soon.
‘Which one?’ the girl asked, leaning over so that she could glimpse the phone display. It offered her no insight, as the text had officially come from Danger Mouse. ‘Can’t be Xane, he’s hooked up with that girl from the sex tape. They’ve been all over the news. I’m a Spook Mortensen fan myself, so it better not be him, although they say he doesn’t do physical contact, so that might be an issue if we ever met, ’cause I’d be all over him like a rash.’
‘It’s Ash, actually,’ Ginny muttered.
‘The hell you are. Ash “I eat pussy for a living” Ash?’ Her grin stretched so wide it threatened to swallow up her face. ‘Cute, but …’ She snorted. ‘You’re not actually serious.’
‘I’d show you a picture if I had any that weren’t obscene.’
The girl snatched Ginny’s phone out of her hand. ‘You have naked photos of Ash Gore!’
‘Shh!’ Ginny hissed, clamping two fingers to her lips. ‘Are you trying to get us mobbed? And give me that back.’
‘Show me one,’ pleaded the girl, turning on the spot to avoid Ginny’s questing fingers. ‘If you do, I’ll give you a lift to the festival when my ride appears. It’s where we’re headed anyway. We’ve a slot booked on one of the minor stages.’ She preened a little at the assertion, before qualifying it. ‘Not that we’re anywhere near as awesome as Black Halo, of course, but we do get to camp in the Artists’ Area. Not that many of them camp, exactly. It’ll be all tour buses the size of hotels.’
‘Is that what you guys have?’
She sighed with longing. ‘I wish. Some day, maybe. No, we just have a crappy old camper van. But it’s wheels. I’m Lykke, by the way.’ She thrust out her hand for Ginny to shake.
‘Ginny.’
‘So, Ginny, fried breakfast in the morning, if you eat that sort of thing, and a ride in exchange for a glimpse of rock-star tackle.’
Ash would kill her if she showed anyone any of the photographs she had, nearly all of which had been taken by Spook and sent to her by Spook with Ash’s permission as a means of tempting her to return.
‘How about I introduce you to Spook Mortensen instead?’
‘Ooh!’ Lykke let out a tortured squeal. ‘So tempting. Wonder if he’ll give me a rhythm lesson? I’m not sure what August’s going to have to say about it, but yeah, OK then. Deal.’
* * *
‘Do you know if he’s really celibate?’ Lykke asked her, as they rode in the back of the camper van some minutes later. The two other members of Lykke’s band sat upfront.
‘He’s interesting,’ Ginny replied tactfully. She supposed the honest answer might have been yes, but actually she wasn’t sure she knew Spook well enough to pass judgement. Maybe ‘highly selective’ and ‘very discreet’ would be more accurate. She suspected he’d be an absolute animal if you ever got him into bed. She knew Ash thought that the episode that had birthed all those incredible, if obscene, photos was her idea, but truthfully none of it would have happened without Spook. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that he didn’t have a bit of a thing for Ash.