Anyone But You: A BRAND NEW feel-good celebrity, second chance romance (Love is in the Air Book 2)

Chapter Fifteen

Dylan opened the pub door, to the ripple of guitar chords and general din of people shouting over each other in an effort to be heard. He was greeted like a returning hero by friends and general acquaintances. He didn’t think many people had noticed that he’d even left and was touched by their interest in him.

‘Hey, Dylan, man, how’ve you been?’

‘Dylan, where did you get to mate?’

‘What the fuck have you done to your hair mate? Don’t they have hairdressers in London?’

Hands slapped his back, as Dylan high-fived someone wearing denim from top to toe. ‘Still going with the double denim look, eh?’

‘Can’t all be as groovy as you, tosser,’ Double Denim replied.

‘Hey, Curly Ginger, how you doing?’ Dylan high-fived his old friend.

‘Dylan. Wow, what’s with the hair, man?’ asked Curly Ginger, a tall guy with a thatch of curly ginger hair, and a broad, square jaw.

Dylan narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re asking me?’ He laughed, giving his friend’s hair a ruffle. ‘Surprisingly, it’s grown since I last saw you; hair can be annoying like that.’ He pressed down his corkscrew hair, trying to tame it, but it just sprang up again.

‘Ooh, hello, who’s this, then?’ said a round-bellied man, wearing an oversized houndstooth jacket and a bow tie, giving Scarlett the once-over.

‘Hugo.’ Dylan pumped the man’s hand, a grin spreading wide. ‘Still on your way to making a million from renting out those decrepit boats, are you?’ Turning to Scarlett, Dylan took her arm, about to introduce her, when another man pushed his way through the throng.

‘Gollum, hey man.’ Dylan shifted an inch or two closer to Scarlett, as the man peered at her through bottle-end glasses, his eyes widening with interest. ‘Err, yes, hello. Scarlett, this is Marcus, more commonly known as Gollum.’ Dylan sent Scarlett a nod of reassurance. ‘He doesn’t get out much,’ he added, by way of an apology as Marcus’s nose almost touched hers.

‘And his eyesight is shocking.’ Dylan snapped his fingers in front of Gollum’s face with little effect. ‘Earth to Gollum. This is Scarlett. She’s a friend from London.’

Marcus continued to stare at Scarlett as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing, inching closer by the second.

‘Enough Gollum, you’re making her uncomfortable.’ Scarlett had taken a step backwards but was mostly holding her ground, chin thrust upwards as if expecting an argument

‘Ignore him,’ Dylan told Scarlett. ‘He’s a little strange. He still thinks body popping is cool.’

‘It is you, isn’t it?’ Gollum whistled through his teeth as he spoke. It came out as a hiss, which was how his nickname had come about.

Dylan frowned hard.

‘I’d recognise you anywhere. I was a huge fan.’

Dylan made a smoking motion and twirled his finger in the air. ‘Wacky backy finally got to him, I think. Come on, let me introduce you to the others. Are you okay, you look like you need a sit down?’

He placed his hand under Scarlett’s elbow and pulled her across the room. ‘Sorry, if it’s all a bit much. I should’ve warned you — they can get a bit rowdy. I’ll introduce you properly later.’ He settled her into a chair beside a large table littered with used glasses, and introduced the two women already seated there. ‘Hannah and Emily, meet Scarlett.’ He put a hand on Scarlett’s back. ‘Be kind. She looks like she might do a runner given half a chance.’ He winked at the women who immediately turned towards Scarlett to include her in their circle.

And breathe, he thought. It’s all going to be fine.

He turned back to the band and surveyed the large room. Tourists and locals passing a contented couple of hours with good food and beer, considered him with interest, probably wondering if it would be worth the wait to hear him sing.

Finally the stage was set up and instruments tuned. Dylan settled back into the groove with his old singing buddies.

Curly Ginger tapped his foot and called out, ‘One, two, three,’ Guitars started up, and Hugo began to sing. Dylan and Curly Ginger harmonised until finally they all joined in and it was just like old times as they gave it their all.

* * *

The band put paid to Scarlett’s tentative conversation with Hannah and she was soon engrossed in their music. Their style was more toe-tapping pop than Dylan’s contemporary, soulful style of music, but Dylan joined in, as if it were only yesterday that he’d been part of their band.

Dylan kept looking over at Scarlett and grinning, and she found herself feeling proud to be with him. More than that, she decided she would be very happy to be his girl.

Her pulse quickened and her heart did a little loop-the-loop, as his eyes fastened onto hers. In an easy, smooth motion he stepped forward as the band members took a step backwards; the spotlight was clearly on Dylan. He cleared his throat and played a quick intro on his guitar. The room stilled and the silence went on for a beat too long. Scarlett was puzzled. Had Dylan got a sudden bout of stage fright? But then he began to sing of a future full of love and trust and she knew the song was meant just for her, as if telling her it was time to move on. But instead of it filling her heart with love it made her inexplicably, desperately sad. A tear slid from the corner of her eye and she swiped angrily at the dampnesson her cheek.

A sudden increase in the noise level made her turn, to see a gaggle of young women entering the pub, clapping and calling out the band members’ names.

‘Here come the rest of the girls,’ Hannah sang.

The gang of newcomers were louder than the music and Scarlett baulked, hoping they weren’t going to sit at their table.

‘The groupies,’ Hannah explained. ‘They turn up every time Daft Donuts play. Hardened followers. Oh, no.’ Her eyes widened, and she nudged Emily with her elbow and inclined her head towards a pretty woman, whose dark hair was a mass of dancing curls. ‘Cara must have heard Dylan was home,’ she said in a loud whisper.

A sudden tension in the air made Scarlett fasten her eyes on the new girl, who gazed at Dylan with large, kohl-rimmed eyes as she inched closer to the makeshift stage.

Dylan must have sensed his admirer gawping and for a moment he faltered, surprise creeping over his face before he acknowledged her with a curt smile.

She waved up at him shyly and Scarlett’s stomach clenched with foreboding.

Dylan seemed distracted from that moment on, flunking his lines, his eyes flickering over the heads of the crowd across at Cara and back to Scarlett. The warm cocoon that had shrouded her from imminent worries evaporated, leaving her once more feeling alone and hating that one person, once again, had the power to hurt her. She had set her heart free for one night and almost immediately it was being tested.

She watched Cara from the corner of her eye as she shimmied along to the music while quaffing something Ribena-coloured from a pint glass. She appeared totally at ease and was probably a regular at the pub, so it was perfectly possible that she was no more than an old friend, but instinct — and what Hannah had said — suggested otherwise. Scarlett couldn’t drag her gaze away as Cara’s eyes remained resolutely fixed on Dylan.

Cara’s friend elbowed her in the ribs every time Dylan glanced her way, and Scarlett accepted with a calm certainty that there was history between them.

A coldness settled in her stomach, replacing the warm fuzziness that had nestled there only a short while ago. She should have known better and shouldn’t have got in so deep, so soon with Dylan. Another bloody musician. Was she mad? She rested her chin on her hands and waited for Dylan to finish, worry and indecision gnawing at her belly as she longed for reassurance from him.

As soon as the gig ended, the long table in front of Scarlett was cleared of glasses and a platter of sandwiches and sausage rolls set down. The men joined the women and settled into seats around the table, ribbing each other as they downed pints and ate with the speed of starving men.

Scarlett tried hard to feel part of the crowd but already, in her mind, she was one step removed from the celebrations. Cara sauntered over and Scarlett could spot a losing battle when she saw one and knew the old friends hand was about to top her paltry newcomer status.

‘Don’t tell me, it’s Marmite and cucumber all over again.’ Cara sniffed the sandwich tray like a hound.

‘Yup. All in Dylan’s honour,’ Curly Ginger said, picking out a sandwich and passing it to Dylan.

Dylan held it up triumphantly and took a bite. ‘And just as wonderful as it always was,’ he said, through a mouthful of bread, closing his eyes in exaggerated ecstasy.

‘It was all Dylan would eat for school lunches. Every single day, until he left school. His poor mum,’ Hannah said, directing her comment to Scarlett. ‘And no one wanted to sit next to him, ’cos — you know — Marmite.’

‘Apart from me.’ Cara pulled up a stool and plonked herself down next to where Dylan sat, opposite Scarlett.

‘And it wasn’t his Marmite shewas after,’ Hugo bellowed, guffawing.

Everyone joined in the laughter and someone gave Cara a secret wink and a rub of encouragement. Scarlett sighed. Definitely history together.

‘Who’s your friend, Dylan?’ Cara asked pointedly, looking at Scarlett.

‘This is my friend Scarlett, Cara.’ Dylan’s eyes crinkled, as if he’d just remembered Scarlett and was having trouble with her name.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes.Friend?

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Cara, looking anything but pleased, asked, ‘How long have you known Dylan?’

Scarlett resisted the urge to tell Cara that they’d been in bed together only hours ago — that’s how friendly they were. ‘Oh, a short while.’ She was deliberately vague and hoped Cara wouldn’t ask uncomfortable questions. She didn’t want to have that conversation, already feeling like the outsider — which she was. No dredging up memories for her as they back slapped and recounted historical jolly japes.

She needed a hug, a simple hug would do, but Dylan was preoccupied, discussing a piece of sheet music one of the guys had found in a charity shop that might be from one of his old tutors.

Scarlett felt totally alone, or was she lonely? Was there a difference? Returning to the familiarity of London suddenly seemed a preferable option than waiting for the backstory of Cara and Dylan to play out, which it surely would if the drinks kept flowing.

Dylan and Cara were among old friends, whereas it appeared that not even Dylan had the time for her, right then. She felt mean-minded and was probably being unfair towards Dylan, who surely had earned the right to enjoy being with his friends. But she couldn’t trust her own emotions since that annoying journalist had opened up the whole can of worms again. The last thing she needed was for her fragile state of mind to be laid wide open for all to see.

She reached down into her bag to check she had her keys. If she left now, she’d be home in good time to visit Axel and see how he was coping. It was ridiculous, she thought, that they’d both assumed Sky’s death was old news and Axel could resume his life again, under the radar. She sighed, glancing at her watch. Maybe the eager photographers wouldn’t be so virulent in their staking out of her home if she returned in the dark. They must have homes to go to.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I ought to be getting along,’ she said quietly to Hannah, trying not to draw attention to herself as she slid along the bench.

‘Oh, that’s a shame. Nice to meet you, though,’ Hannah said.

Cara glanced up at the movement, delight written all over her face. She may as well have opened the door andkickedScarlettout, dusting her hands down with satisfaction.

Dylan glanced up briefly, and Scarlett, hoping to make a clean getaway, didn’t acknowledge him, pretending that she was just visiting the bathroom. In her opinion, the odds on her being missed were as slight as the odds on Cara not trying to pick up where she and Dylan had left off, the minute Scarlett left the pub.