‘No Limit’ by 2 Unlimited （1993）
‘Oh, God, no!’ she shouted. ‘Turn it off!’
‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t, the rules.’
‘This isn’t even mine! Seriously, Michael, turn it off.’
‘I like it. I think it’s catchy.’
She made a grab for the phone. ‘It doesn’t count!’
‘It’s got a strong beat.’
‘Look, I’m taking my earpiece out. I refuse to listen.’
‘It’s on your phone!’
‘It’s Neil’s! It’s not even mine. It’s Neil’s!’
He immediately pressed stop and they walked on, registering their surroundings once again, the great expanse of moorland, not silence but birdsong, the crunch of their boots.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Slight overreaction there. I thought I’d got rid of all his shitty music. I sat there and went through and purged it all but that one must have snuck through. Sneaked? Snuck.’
‘Is that what he liked?’
‘Not even good techno or house, just shitty poppy stuff, hyperactive kids’ music. God, he had terrible taste. Ask him his favourite lyric, he’d say it’s probably “Techno, techno, techno.” If he’d had his way, first dance at our wedding would have been “Pump Up The Jam”.’ Michael laughed and she managed to smile. ‘Sorry. Can you do me a favour? Can you delete it?’
‘Okay.’ He stopped for a moment, scrolled and swiped it from the library. ‘There. All gone. Do you think you should have another go?’
‘If you don’t mind,’ she said, and he pressed play again. A moment, and then a piano playing the chords to a Christmas song.
‘Joni. That’s better.’
‘I know this song.’
‘Bit of a cliché, having “Blue” on there.’
‘I like it.’
‘Course you do. It’s classic rock.’
‘I like the bit where she shouts, “Techno, techno, techno,”’ he said, and they walked for the rest of the song, listening.