Chapter Seventeen #3
He grinned. ‘Uh, no, I have to mouth words to the songs in assembly otherwise the kids all ask why I don’t know the tune.’
‘What? That’s not true, I remember you playing your guitar and singing when we were at college.’
He grimaced. ‘Don’t remind me! What a pretentious idiot I was.’
‘No, you weren’t,’ Jen said softly. Those nights were etched into her mind, she and Ted drinking and talking late into the night, sharing stories.
He’d been the only one she could talk to when things had fallen apart for her then, and he’d always listened, never judging, never telling her what to do.
Just being there. And sometimes, as night became morning, he would play the songs he’d written.
She was his sole audience, the only one he’d trusted, despite her telling him over and over again that he was talented, and he should play for their friends.
‘You were brilliant. You don’t play any more? ’
‘Oh.’ He shrugged, but there was something wistful in his expression. ‘Who has the time?’
It was a shame; he had a genuine talent, and Jen could see that he missed playing. But she knew he was feeling overwhelmed right now, and she didn’t want to pressure him. She smiled, tapping her glass against his. ‘Here’s to being in the audience.’
‘. . . further ado, our first act, Gloria, Bob and Sam!’ Gillian was saying.
Ted looked amused. ‘You know, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how much this will help with Train Guy. I think it’s going to be more Babblebrook’s Got Talent than a highbrow poetry reading.’
‘Has Babblebrook got talent?’ Jen asked doubtfully.
‘Let’s find out.’
She recognised Gloria and Bob as the couple who’d been selling Jamaican food at the Christmas market, and it appeared that Sam was their dog, who obediently trotted with them to the front of the room.
Bob, smartly dressed in a suit and a red tie dotted with little white snowflakes, smiled at the audience and told the dog to sit. Obediently, it did, blinking up at him through a scrappy mop of brown hair.
‘Sam is the talented one,’ Gloria said, and as she wrapped her hand around the mic stand Jen noticed that her nails were painted to match Bob’s tie. ‘So we’ll let him do all the work.’
They proceeded to show off Sam’s doggy talents as he sat, lay down, gave his paw and begged on command.
Bob instructed him to spin, and he did, then rolled over and walked backwards.
The couple looked proudly out at the audience, who cooed and clapped in appreciation.
Gloria held out her immaculately manicured hand and told Sam to ‘boop’, and he obediently pressed his nose into her palm.
‘Can you do anything else, Sam?’ Bob asked, and the little dog shook its head vigorously, causing a guffaw from the audience. Bob chuckled. ‘Then bow.’
Sam did, and the audience erupted into applause. Even Jen was won over by the absolute cuteness of this display of canine talent, even though she considered herself a cat person. But if Tig’s obvious aversion to her continued much longer, she thought glumly, she might consider switching sides.
Ted was looking impressed. ‘That dog’s definitely more talented than either of us!’ He took a sip of his drink and grinned. ‘Pretty pawsome, right.’
She shook her head. ‘Thank God you didn’t decide to do some stand-up.’
He shrugged, mock-offended. ‘Think I’d be quite good at it, actually.’
‘You would not.’
The evening continued as more people stood up to display their talents.
Reverend Pauline brought a karaoke machine and sang a surprisingly impressive rendition of ‘Fairytale of New York’, and Matt, the older man from the café, iced thirty Christmas cookies in a minute.
The audience appreciatively munched through the end results as they listened to banjo music and watched tap dancing, among other displays.
The night was finished off with a surprisingly moving reading of ‘’Twas the Night Before Christmas’ by a man in wellies named Alan.
By the time he’d finished, everyone was mesmerised.
Jen had been expecting something rather more cultured, and as she thought of the reels on Anthony’s Instagram showing him reading serious and meaningful poems out to a rapt audience, she wondered what he would make of Babblebrook’s open mic night.
She suspected he would be derisive, and she tried to be too.
She was too sophisticated for this. Wasn’t she?
‘Brilliant!’ Ted said, turning to her with a goofy grin. ‘That’s properly cheered me up, thanks for coming with me.’
‘Well, I’m not sure it’s prepared me for highbrow discussions with Anthony. But that was kind of entertaining,’ she admitted.
The truth was, she’d loved it. Sitting by the fire with her best friend in the cosy pub, while snow fell outside and all these people enjoyed themselves without any pretensions, supporting each other without judgement. She’d felt completely at ease.
Perhaps it wasn’t sophisticated or intellectual. But it was sweet and fun, and that had made for a pretty perfect evening.