Cold Comfort

by Isobel Hart

  Less than ten minutes after finishing our performance we were on the road and heading out of London. I had nothing with me, none of my clothes or my make-up – for what that was worth. I hadn’t even said goodbye to Eddy, who had been sitting in the audience for the performance. Instead I was inside a silent car with a brooding Cat beside me. His phone rang, and I listened to his terse end of the conversation with a sinking heart.

  “I want a restraining order placed on a man called Hardy Somerville.”…. “What do you mean?”… “He’s stalking her! Isn’t that enough?”… “No… No…. No, not yet, that’s what we’re trying to prevent.”… “Look, this is fucking ridiculous. Are you seriously telling me that unless he hurts her in some way or criminally damages something, there’s nothing we can do about him?”… “I want you to find a way. He’s hurting her emotionally if not physically, and he shouldn’t be allowed to harass her.”… “No, he was in the audience.”… “Look, I don’t fucking care. You work for me, so find a way to get him away from us or I’ll find someone else who can help me.” Cat threw the phone across the car, the screen smashing when it hit the window.

  “It can’t be done?” I asked quietly when I thought he’d calmed down sufficiently to have a conversation about it.

  “Not unless your relationship was violent previously and the police knew about it, or unless he hurts you now or commits criminal damage or some other minor disorder. Otherwise we have nothing. It’s a fucking disgrace.”

  “I don’t think he’d hurt me.” I hesitated as I thought about it. “Physically, I mean.”

  “He’s not going to get a chance regardless,” Cat fumed. “He can fuck right back off to wherever he came from. Fucking loser. Who does he think he is?”

  “The Somervilles are quite an influential family…”

  “Maybe so, but I’m not without a bit of influence myself.” He simmered in silence for a while until finally he said; “By the way, baby, you were outstanding tonight. Your voice was crazy good. Seriously amazing.”

  “I love singing with you,” I said, snuggling down into his side as he wrapped his arms around me while the car sped us up the M11.

  “I love doing everything with you,” he replied, kissing the top of my head gently. I leant back to look at him, and he kissed me on the lips.

  That night, when we finally reached the house, there was a reverence to his touch I hadn’t felt before as he made love to me, and the guards around my heart crumbled just a little more.

  *

  When I woke I was alone in the bed. The room was dark and it was raining heavily, judging by the noise against the windowpane. I showered and then hunted for the bag of things I had left behind. I looked in my old room first but eventually found them hanging inside Cat’s wardrobe. The sight of my things hanging beside his choked me up a little.

  Pulling on some jeans and a sweater I padded downstairs, finding the whole band minus Matt, along with Wayne and Eddy, all gathered in the kitchen. “Wow, I really slept late,” I commented, nodding at Henry who was notorious for sleeping most of the day away if he didn’t have to work. He smiled, but it was empty.

  “You okay, babe?” Cat asked, moving to my side and pulling me in for a kiss.

  “I’m good, why? What’s happened?” The others looked at each other, all waiting for someone to speak first. Wayne cleared his throat.

  “So, they want to do a spread all about you this weekend for the Saturday Mail,” he said, looking directly at me. “It’ll be a full feature with photos, great for your exposure if that’s what you’re after.”

  “Not really, but I’ll do it if it helps you,” I said, looking at Cat. He nodded.

  “Then we have requests for you guys to sing on just about every show that has a band slot, plus a few that don’t. The single is at number one already. You actually broke a record for the most downloads in a single day. My phone’s been blowing off the hook since you performed last night. There’s a lot of interest in you particularly, Delilah. You probably need to get yourself your own manager…” He trailed off.

  “She doesn’t need a manager. She’ll stick with us. We’ll take care of her,” Cat said.

  “But what about if she wants to pursue her own solo career? She needs someone looking out for her interests.”

  “I said, she’ll stay with us,” he insisted, ignoring the looks from the other band members. I squirmed with discomfort. “We’ll need her to perform the single on our tour anyway,” he continued.

  “We could always get a guest vocalist,” Wayne suggested. The look Cat threw at him would have turned lesser men to stone. I actually felt sorry for him.

  “It might be an idea,” I tried to step in, “for when I have to go back to uni.” The band were nodding in agreement.

  “Let me make one thing clear. If Delilah is not singing it, then I don’t sing it. Simple. So if you want the song on our next tour, whenever we finish the album, then I suggest we find a way to persuade Delilah she wants to stick around with us.”

  At that point the door opened and Matt walked in with a strap on his wrist and a black eye. “What happened to you?” I exclaimed. No one else looked surprised at his appearance.

  Matt looked at Cat, who sighed. “After we left, Matt and the guys did the meet-and-greet. That fucking loser was being pushy, wanting to come backstage to see if you were there. He wouldn’t take no for an answer when Matt said you’d left. Matt set him straight.”

  “Oh my god, you had an actual fight with him? Are you okay? Is he okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Matt said quickly. “Just a sprain and a black eye. Nothing serious. His ribs will be painful today, but he’ll live.”

  “Why do you even care?” Cat asked pointedly.

  “Because I hate the thought of anyone getting hurt because of me. Nothing more.” That wasn’t the complete truth, I realised. I hated the thought that Hardy had been hurt in a fight. It upset me more than it should have under the circumstances. “I’m sorry,” I said to Matt. He nodded.

  “No worries. He was quite persistent, so I’m not sure we’ve seen the last of him yet, but he’ll get the message eventually,” he promised. “The VIP tour got a little more than they bargained for. The press will likely catch wind of something, so you’ll need to be on your toes for the feature this weekend.” I nodded, realising I had one day to catch my breath and then I’d be thrown to the wolves again.

  Eddy walked over and gave me a hug. “You okay with all of this?” he asked me, his big eyes blinking through his lenses. “Do you want to go home?”

  “I think we should go over to the States,” Cat suddenly threw out. He looked at Wayne. “Didn’t you say they were clamouring for a release over there? I say we give it to them. We’ve had lots of exposure from the stuff we did at Radio 1 and Falk’s Talks, and we’re already getting loads of playtime everywhere. Let’s go and blow the States apart. We can finish the new album while we’re at it. I’ve got the rest of the songs down. Then we’ll be over there ready for the tour in October, all nicely acclimatised.” He looked at the rest of the band, who just shrugged. I was beginning to realise they tended to do whatever Cat wanted for a quiet life.

  “I can’t go to America,” I said.

  “Why not?” Cat blinked at me.

  “Because I have to go back to school at the end of September. I have a degree to finish.”

  Cat laughed, which irritated me. “Do you really think you’ll be going back to student land? Seriously? And who do you think is going to make sure you don’t get mobbed every time you step out the door? Who’s going to keep your stalker ex-boyfriend away?”

  “Hello,” Eddy said, waving his arms at him. The band all laughed, which just pissed Eddy off. I glared at them.

  “Look, Cat’s idea is not all bad,” Wayne interrupted. “It would be good to capitalise on all the interest in you while you’re hot. It’ll be a while until the new album is out, but a quick circuit with this single could be great to freshen up the intere
st for the album. We have a month until your course starts again?” he asked, looking at Eddy and me. We both nodded. “Well then, we’ll do a month-long circuit, with appearances on as many media outlets as we can. It should be enough time. Then you can decide what you’re doing after that if you’re still a thing,” Wayne said, looking doubtfully at Cat. “It gets you away from stalker boy and makes me money. It’s all good,” he finished with a laugh. Even I could see it was a good compromise.

  “Eddy can come too?” I asked no one in particular.

  “If you want to, little brother?” Matt said immediately.

  “I want to make sure she’s okay after you lot have finished with her,” Eddy said, scowling at Cat. Cat returned the look. “I’ll be there to take you home, D,” Eddy said to me.

  “Stay out from under my feet, Eddy,” Cat warned. “I love you like a brother, but I’ll trample you if you get in my way.”

  “Calm it down, guys,” Matt said, ever the peacemaker, as Dougie just sat there in silence. “We have a free day for once. What are your plans?” he asked Cat.

  Cat looked at me and grinned. “I have a date with a punt.”

  Chapter 24

  Although we had prepared for the worst, the weather chose to be kind to us. By lunchtime, as the car pulled into the bus stop beside the river, the sun was emerging from behind the clouds. I felt the mood between Cat and me similarly lift.

  He manned the pole, wearing some glasses and a baseball cap in the hopes that no one would recognise him, while I hunkered down in the punt on the cushions that had thoughtfully been provided by the owner, along with a bottle of champagne and a full picnic. It had been decided it wasn’t a good idea for us to eat in any pubs given the attention we were likely to get, so a picnic was the compromise.

  After some terrifying early wobbles, when I remembered I couldn’t swim and had visions of us capsizing and me sinking to the bottom of the river Cam, despite Cat’s assurances he’d save me no matter what, Cat proved remarkably adept at punting. There was a memorable moment when the pole got stuck while we merrily sailed on, forcing us to wait until someone in a passing rowing boat agreed to help us out and return our pole. Their faces on recognising Cat as the stranded person were priceless. We laughed a lot. And in between I spent my time admiring the flex of his biceps as he pushed us gently along, my fear of water fading, dwarfed by the warm glow that seemed to have occupied a place in my chest.

  We drifted past the ancient College buildings, coming to rest against a bank adjacent to a field occupied only by cows, where Cat secured the punt with a rope to a nearby tree trunk. Then he opened the picnic, popping the cork on the champagne and pouring us both a glass before lying back down next to me on the cushions while we nibbled at the food. It was completely idyllic, and I told him so.

  “Good. I’m trying, but I’m not sure I’m any good at all this,” he admitted.

  “Good at all what?”

  “Romancing you, being a good boyfriend.” I felt my insides turn to mush at his words.

  “Oh, I’d say you’re better than you think,” I told him, putting my plate aside before leaning in for a kiss.

  We lay there for more than an hour, kissing and touching, and with every passing minute my heart melted a little more. It was some of the most innocent and yet erotic time we’d ever spent in each other’s company, and I was grateful to him for giving it to me.

  “I don’t want you to leave me,” he said as I basked in the sun and the warmth of his arms.

  I turned to look up at him. “I’m not leaving you. I’m right here.”

  “But for how long? If you go back to college and I go off on tour, then what?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. I didn’t fancy our chances with a long-distance relationship knowing what the groupies were like around him. I knew my jealousy would likely kill anything good between us even if he didn’t stray. Not to mention his jealousy about, well, everything.

  “Could you defer?” he asked. “Wait until I can take a longer break between albums and then finish your course? It would mean we could stay together. I’ve only just found you, and I don’t want to lose you – you mean too much to me already. I’d rather walk away from all this – give it up.”

  “You don’t mean that,” I insisted. He loved what he did – he loved being a rock star.

  “If it means not losing you, I would. I’m serious, Delilah. I want to make this work between us. I know you’re still young and this has only been a month or so, but I can wait until you’re ready. I want it all with you.” I felt my eyes widen as the meaning behind his words settled. Then he kissed me, and every objection about how this was moving too fast, how we didn’t really know one another well enough to be sure of anything, how he was important to me already but I didn’t know where it would lead… All of that went unsaid with the touch of his lips against mine. I finally pulled away and looked at him, the intensity of his gaze telling me in that moment he believed every word he’d said. In that moment…. And that was what worried me. And yet it still amazed me that for some reason this beautiful, talented, angry, passionate man had selected me as his partner. I felt overwhelmed by the realisation.

  “We’ll go to America,” I promised in a moment of uncharacteristic spontaneity. “Then after that we’ll see.” He couldn’t hide his immediate disappointment, his eyes dipping down, but I placed my finger beneath his chin and lifted his face back up towards mine. “I want this to work between us too,” I promised him, glad to see the hope rekindled when he looked at me again. “I want to find a way to make us work together. For the long term.” He kissed me again then. It seemed he had enough for now.

  When we returned to the house it was with lighter hearts. It seemed the rest of the band had appreciated a day of rest too, given the easy banter that jockeyed round the group as we shared a meal together around the large kitchen table. The evening that followed was spent in the studio while the guys put one of the new tracks together for the album. I was happy in the corner playing cards with Eddy, feeling the brush of Cat’s gaze as it touched upon me regularly.

  “Hey, have you checked Twitter?” Cat asked during one of their breaks. He had a smug look on his face.

  “No, should I?”

  “Yeah, I think maybe you should.”

  I opened the app on my phone and gasped with surprise when I saw I had over one hundred thousand followers already.

  “That’s crazy,” I said, laughing loudly. “I haven’t even tweeted anything.” I took a quick photo of the band rehearsing and put it up there with #menatwork underneath it. In two minutes it had been liked over five hundred times. After five minutes it was over a thousand. “I don’t understand this stuff,” I muttered, reading through some of the replies. There was a lot of love for our performance on the show the night before. A similar number were haters, though, mainly girls and mainly thanks to the kiss Cat had given me. I skimmed over the more vitriolic comments and the ones that were downright scary.

  “Don’t read them,” Eddy warned. “They nearly drove Matt mad to begin with. We live in a world of keyboard warriors, who can say what they want with no retribution. Ground yourself in the people around you – only their opinion matters, and we all think you’re Mary Poppins.”

  “Mary Poppins?”

  “Practically perfect in every way.”

  “Damn right,” Cat agreed, coming up behind me and leaning on my shoulders. “You could at least follow me, though.”

  “I’d follow you anywhere,” I purred.

  His expression changed, and heat came off him in waves. “Rehearsal’s over for the night,” he barked at the rest of the band. “I’ll see you back in here at ten tomorrow. In the meantime make the most of your evening – I certainly intend to.” He grinned, grabbing my hand and leading me out the room, back to his bedroom where I stayed – as a very willing prisoner – for the rest of the night.

  *

  The boys were all in the studio, while I waited in the mu
sic room with Eddy for the arrival of the photographer and the accompanying journalist. Wayne had said they had some clothes they wanted me to consider wearing for the shoot, and that if I did I might be paid for my effort. I felt uncomfortable being paid for wearing clothes, but I couldn’t deny that the thought of being able to send some money back to Mama was an incentive. I figured even if they turned up with bin liners I’d probably be willing to put them on if it meant I could get Mama away from the Somervilles sooner.

  I sat basking in a pool of sunlight as Eddy played his violin composition. The music drifted over me, ethereal and dreamy. It really was a stunning piece, making me reflect on the time I had spent earlier that day with Cat. “I don’t want to know what you’re thinking about, or should I say who,” Eddy said, as he finished his piece. “You look like the cat that got the cream… or Cat got his cream,” he sniggered.

  “Eddy!” I giggled in mock indignation, just as there was a knock on the door.

  Dave, the head security guy, stuck his head into the room. “Delilah, they’re here. They’re just scoping some locations outside for the pictures if you wanted to come out and say hi?”

  “Sure,” I agreed easily, slipping on my flip-flops and following him outside to where a man and two women were waiting beside Cat’s swimming pool.

  “We thought we might take some pictures of you in the swimming pool,” one of the women enthused. “We’ve brought some amazing bathing costumes after Wayne mentioned Cat had a pool here. The light would be perfect. Oh, I’m Catherine, and this is David, your photographer, and finally Steph,” she said, pointing at the youngest of the three. “She can do your make-up if you want her to.”

  “Delilah. Umm, I’d prefer not to do the pool if you don’t mind. I can’t swim,” I admitted, embarrassed that the first thing they knew about me, apart from my name, was my lack of any water-based skill. I felt the need to show at least a little willingness. “I could dangle my legs over the side, though, if that helps?”