Love Me Till Wednesday (Sapphire Stars #1)

14

14

The remainder of the train journey passed quickly. After settling up with the taxi driver who had picked her up at Euston, Lisa walked up the familiar steps to Number 39 Paradise Crescent and opened her front door.

‘I’m home,’ she shouted. Silence. Elise must be out. It was going to be like this most of the time soon, assuming Elise got the grades she needed to get into uni. You’re going to have to get used to living alone. And somewhere else. But the house was like having a 3D photo album reminding her of all the major milestones that had happened in the years since she'd signed the contract to buy it.

The kaleidoscope of patterns the late afternoon sunlight made through the stained glass front door transported her back to when she had come back from the hospital carrying Jim in his car seat, wondering how the two of them were going to manage alone.

The dent in the living room door post brought back happy memories of the day Greg had moved in and the laughs they’d had struggling to get his big dining table in place. There were bad memories, too. The limestone front step reminded her of the relief she'd felt when she put all his clothes outside in bin liners after he’d moved in with Isabella .

In the time between, she'd screamed her way through Sam’s birth while leaning against the living room sofa after he’d decided to make such hasty appearance that Greg had no time to drive her to the hospital. And she could still picture Elise taking her first faltering steps across the kitchen, determined to retrieve the toy octopus Sam had stolen from her.

There had been all the usual rows, laughter, tears, hugs, and kisses of family life in this house, but she couldn’t rattle around in it forever. She needed a fresh start just for herself. Greg had confirmed he was happy with the proposed asking price, so there was no point in putting it off. She’d phone Noah tomorrow to tell him to put it up for sale.

She dumped her laptop bag on the floor underneath the hall table and threw her keys into the bowl on top. The bowl Nick had bought her. Another memory. She ought to get rid of it, but although they’d ended badly, she didn’t want to forget the good times they’d had. At least the bowl could come with her to her new home. Stop being so bloody sentimental .

A few minutes later, she was sitting at the kitchen table in front of a microwave meal for one that she’d found at the back of the fridge. It was two days over its “use by” date but it tasted fine. If you didn’t have that bloody job, you’d be able to cook from scratch and not have to eat this rubbish.

Discovering Pete’s album today had rekindled thoughts of returning to her music career. If Pete was recording new material, why couldn’t she? The karaoke session had proved she’d still got it, voice-wise. A part of her always regretted her decision to give up singing in the band when Jim was born. Now would be the ideal time to see if she still had what it took. And Pete wasn’t the only 90s musician to have another go at being successful. Plenty of bands had reformed and got back into the charts again, so it wasn't an impossibility. In fact, it should be easier now you could release your material online without needing the record companies’ distribution networks.

But should she go it alone or with someone else, perhaps even with the surviving original band members? Normally, Mel was her sounding board for tricky decisions but she wouldn’t have a clue on this one. There was someone who might help her choose, though: Pete.

Lisa looked in her phone contacts list. No sign of his name there. She obviously hadn’t bothered transferring his details over when she got her first smartphone. But her old paper address book should be somewhere. She walked into the study and started riffling through the desk drawers. There it was, lurking under a mass of old computer cables.

She opened the address book at A. There were several entries for family members, then Pete’s name was at the top of the second page. Arrows pointed to different addresses which had been crossed out. She’d written “April 94” next to the latest address on the list. That must’ve been the flat he’d moved into when they’d made the band split official. The odds of him being in the same flat were pretty much nil, but his parents’ address and phone number were still next to the first entry. They might be a good place to start.

She checked the clock. It was almost 8 pm - still a reasonable time to phone. She found her mobile and dialled the number. The long, monotone sound of the number unobtainable tone rang out. Disappointing, but it had been a bit optimistic to expect it to be that easy. She could try sending a letter but if the phone number didn’t work, chances were Pete’s parents weren’t living there anymore either. She’d have to do some serious research. Lisa poured herself a G&T and settled down in front of her laptop .

Another dull Wednesday meeting in the office. Lisa’s mind kept wandering to the messages she'd sent last night. It looked like Pete was fairly active on Instagram, but there was nothing personal on there - his latest posts all related to the new album. There was also a “Contact me” option on his website. Both were probably monitored by some faceless PR company. She’d decided to use the contact form and send a direct message to his Instagram ID.

She'd thought long and hard about what to put. It needed to be something that would prove it was her if Pete read it and engaging enough that his PR would pass it on if he didn’t read it himself. Another large G&T had failed to get her creative juices flowing, so she‘d settled on a rather dull but factual message:

Hi It's Lisa Jones, Pete's former co-writer. Pete - I listened to your solo album today. ‘Love Me Till Wednesday’ brought back happy memories of that hot summer afternoon when your neighbours complained about the racket we were making when we were trying out different opening lines. I’d love to catch up with you and perhaps collaborate on some new material. If you're interested, give me a call.

She'd signed off with her email and mobile number.

Now, it was a waiting game.

She surreptitiously checked her phone. No sign of a reply yet, but it might take days. Or she might never hear anything from him at all.

‘Lisa?’ Colin’s voice brought her back to the present. ‘Could you update us on your Manchester project outcomes.’

‘Yes, sure, ‘ she said, sharing her slide deck on the large screen .

Her phone started ringing. A notification flashed up with a mobile number that she didn’t recognise. It was probably someone trying to flog her a new phone contract - or it could be Pete.

‘Lisa?’ Colin looked irritated.

‘Sorry. Probably a scammer.’ She clicked the Decline button and started her presentation.

The same phone number called I again. She clicked Decline again. This time, she received a voicemail notification. Scammers didn’t usually bother leaving a message. She needed to get through this presentation as quickly as possible so she could check it. But today, everyone had something to add to the discussion. It was more than an hour later when Colin finally drew the meeting to a close.

‘Fancy a coffee?’ Nina asked.

‘Yeah, but I’ve got a message to follow up on first.’

‘See you in the cafe then,’ Nina said as Lisa headed for one of the private booths in the hotdesking area.

She sat down and checked her phone. There were two voicemails. The first was just three seconds of silence. Whoever it was had probably decided to think about what they wanted to say. The second was more interesting.

Pete’s distinctive voice. ‘Hey stranger. So it is really you. Give me a call when you’re free.’