Chapter 13
The journey to Edinburgh the next day is comprised of what could be described as a motorcade of clown cars. I ride, squished
in a back seat between Ethel and Beverly. They talk over me while two elderly tour guides, Edgar and Simon, talk over each
other in the front. I catch snippets of gossip about tourists from the front seat and snippets of gossip about my coworkers
in the back seat. I’d love every second of it if I wasn’t still so in my head about what happened at the lake.
This is Caro’s big event, and I want to be able to cheer her on with my whole chest, but it’s aching. I want to avoid Finn
for the rest of my life and forget he exists. It’s pretty hard when I work and live at his house and am surrounded, daily,
by merchandise with his face on it.
The pub that Caro, Leah, and Duffie will be performing at gave them a four-thirty p.m. performance slot, which is too early for the evening crowd and too late for the lunch crowd.
It feels a little like the pub is setting them up to fail, but the pub owner clearly has no idea how beloved Caro and Leah are at Inveresk.
As for the third member of their trio, Duffie seems to be tolerated.
According to my drive here, the castle gossip mill has been churning about him and Caro for a while now—and they’re all Team Caro.
Despite the awkward start time, dozens of castle staff are squished into the venue.
“Greetings and salutations,” Duffie says from a small stage that’s set up for tonight’s pub quiz. We politely clap.
Caro steps forward with outstretched arms. “Thank you to the World’s End for having us. We are—”
“Perimenopausal and Knackered,” Leah says, sitting on a stool behind her two costars.
Duffie and Caro look embarrassed. They turn around and the three of them have a whisper-fight. The only thing we as an audience
can make out is quips of “We decided on a name,” and “You decided on a name,” and Leah insisting, “I was just being honest.” It ends with Leah relenting and whispering, “Fine. Let’s
do this properly, I promise not to interrupt.”
“Good early evening,” Leah says, walking to the front of the stage. “Apologies for the delay. Thank you so much for coming.”
We break into wild applause.
“We’ll be doing some comedy sketches for you that we hope you enjoy,” Caro says. She looks amazing on stage—bright-eyed, excited. “And now to properly introduce ourselves. We! Are!”
“Perimenopausal and Knackered! ” Duffie declares, catching us all off guard and earning them their first of many genuine laughs from all of us. For the rest
of the show, I’m able to forget and simply enjoy.
We pile back into our clown cars afterward. Instead of going home, we head to a second location where I learn two very important
things. One: Friday night is karaoke night at a hole-in-the-wall bar called Look Sharp! (yes, with the exclamation point)
in the tiny town of Inveresk. Most of the staff from the castle are religious attendees of this weekly tradition. The second
thing I learn—and quickly—is that of those religious attendees, less than half can carry a tune. Bless their enthusiastic
hearts, the lack of natural musicality doesn’t stop any of them from earnestly belting their favorite tunes.
I’m having the best time listening to Edgar, the tour guide, sing Rod Stewart’s classic “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” followed by
a housekeeper named Adelaide who warbles her way through Annie Lennox’s “Walking on Broken Glass.” I hoot and applaud and
yell with the rest of my colleagues, laughing until my cheeks hurt.
“Come on, Hannah,” Caro begs. “Sing a duet with me. It’ll be a riot.”
“I’d much rather remain a supportive member of the audience, thanks,” I tell her, nursing my pint.
This is the best and only true distraction I’ve experienced since I utterly humiliated myself in the woods with Finn yesterday.
There’s no way he’ll ever talk to me again.
After all the times I rebuffed his flirty comments, I’ve been the one who’s tried to kiss him.
Twice. Yes, in both moments, I was certain that he wanted it as much as I did, but upon reflection, how could that possibly be true?
I must have misinterpreted his signs, the way he helped me down from Rosie or tried to make sure I didn’t drown in a lake.
I might as well be the court jester of Inveresk Castle.
Just thinking about it makes me turn red—I can feel the hot blush of embarrassment claim my face in the middle of Look Sharp!
and take a huge gulp of my beer.
“Oh! I found us a song!” Caro says, taking my beer from me and putting it down on the table. She points at one of the songs
in the binder she’s been flipping through. But I can’t pay attention because there’s been a shift in the crowd. My coworkers
are all sitting up a little straighter, self-consciously taking small sips from their drinks instead of downing them the way
they were moments ago. People have stopped what they’re doing to whisper to one another, and they’re all staring at the entrance.
A new group has entered the bar, and their appearance has obliterated any chance I had at not humiliating myself tonight.
No no no no no no no.
I want to crawl under the table. I want to run out the back door. I want to become a magician and disappear in a puff of smoke.
“Is that a yes? You’ll sing this one with me?” Evidently, Caro hasn’t noticed the vibes change because she’s still pointing
excitedly at the binder. I don’t even look to see what it is. I just know I can’t be sitting here when the only available
table is right next to ours. I’ve got to get away from here, even if that means getting on the stage. Finn can’t talk to me
if I’m singing, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“Sure, looks great,” I tell her, following her to the karaoke host’s stand. She tells the host which song we’re singing, and
we queue up, waiting for Annie Lennox to stop walking on broken glass.
I refuse to look at Finn and his friends. I’m carefree! I’m buzzed on half a beer! I’m having the time of my life! No one
needs to feel sorry for me!
The song ends and Caro and I take the stage, much to great applause. I know it’s mostly for Caro, who’s deservedly well loved
among our coworkers. We each park ourselves in front of a microphone as the opening notes to “Under Pressure” begin.
“I get to be David Bowie,” she declares to me via the microphone.
Perfect. Not only am I suddenly singing karaoke in front of all my coworkers and the guy who has rejected me not once, but twice, but I have to take the part sung by Freddie Mercury. No problem. It’s not like he was known for his operatic vocal gymnastics or anything.
“I need my beer,” I say a little too loudly into the microphone over the song’s introduction. Within seconds, Leah’s handing
me my beer and I’m chugging it as the bar cheers me on. I miss Freddie’s opening “oom-ba-bah” or whatever he says there, but
finish drinking just in time to sing “Pressure! ” with Caro.
Caro’s naturally unabashed and therefore a killer karaoke performer. I’ve got liquid courage and a screw-it-I’ve-already-lived-my-worst-case-scenario-in-front-of-Finn attitude and so I give myself over to embodying Freddie Mercury’s performance, despite being only a passable singer. By the
second chorus, the whole bar, patrons and staff alike, are singing along with us. Caro and I do kicks and throw our hands
up in the air. The song ends and we receive the night’s first standing ovation.
I spare a glance at Finn’s table, which I’ve managed to avoid looking at for roughly four minutes. He and his friends are
on their feet, whistling and hollering. I give a cheeky little curtsy while avoiding any eye contact with him. When the cheering
dies down, Caro and I hold hands and walk back to our table. I choose the chair that puts my back toward Finn.
We’ve just sat down when Duffie, blond hair a mess, races over. He pulls Caro up, wraps his arms around her, and spins her. The crowd falls silent as we wait to see what’s to come.
Once the spin is over and Caro’s back on her feet, Duffie dips her and kisses her in front of everyone. The bar erupts. Duffie
has very publicly declared them an item and Caro looks overjoyed. I whistle and clap along with everyone else. Duffie takes
the extra seat at our table, which is expected and wonderful, however, he also takes Caro’s full attention, leaving me stranded.
The fact that there’s no longer a queue waiting to sing (evidently no one wants to follow our karaoke performance or that
movie-style kiss) doesn’t help.
“American Hannah, hi! That performance was brilliant,” Bethany says from behind me.
I turn around in my chair and force a smile. “Oh, thank you. I couldn’t have done it without the peer pressure of my costar
and the liquid courage of my beer.”
“You’re my shero,” Mhairi enthuses.
“Come sit with us,” Callum says with a wave. “Your tablemates are too busy making googly eyes at each other to notice if you
leave. We promise to pay attention to you.”
The three of them are so sweet and I genuinely would love to hang out with them, but there’s the guy who rejected me right
beside them. Not that I’m looking at him. Finn could be doing jumping jacks for all I know.
I can’t avoid him forever because Caro and Duffie are now fully making out at our table. Reluctantly, I move to the only unoccupied chair. It just happens to be beside the guy I won’t acknowledge.
“Nice to see you three again,” I say to Callum, Mhairi, and Bethany.
“Same. I think I love you,” Callum replies. “Maybe it’s too soon to say, I don’t care. When someone walks into your life and
does Freddie proud, you can’t ignore that.”
“I’m flattered,” I tell him with a laugh.
Beside me, Finn is silent. Callum, Bethany, and Mhairi ask about working the gift shop, which means Finn’s filled them in
at least a little. I wonder what else they know. So far there are no looks of pity. That’s a good sign.