It was so unfair. They wouldn’t even let me play the tambourine.
“I was his creative inspiration,” I say at last. “It was pretty collaborative. Good times,” I add in a careless rock-chick manner.
“So why did you two break up?” says Suze, agog.
“The band got a record deal and they dropped out of uni to make an album.”
“No way!” Suze’s hand flies to her mouth. “That’s amazing! Would I know it?”
“Well, no,” I admit. “What happened was, they all went off to this place in Devon to record it—”
“Did you go too?” interrupts Suze.
“No.” I feel an old flicker of resentment. “Mum and Dad wouldn’t let me drop out. Anyway, they went off to make this album, but they kept fighting about it. And then one of them hit another one and the police got called. So then all their parents drove down and made them stop recording and go back to uni.”
“Oh,” says Suze, looking disappointed. I can tell she was hoping for an ending more along the lines of “And then they sold out Wembley!”
“Craig had a massive row with his parents,” I continue. “He refused to go back to Bristol. And then the band fell apart.”
“What did Craig do?”
“Took a year off and went to Manchester. But by then I’d already broken up with him.”
“Because of the band,” supplies Suze, a little breathlessly. “Because they all thought you were Yoko.”
“Kind of.” I hesitate, feeling I should be honest. “Also, he wasn’t very hot then. In fact, he was a bit annoying.”
We’ve talked quite enough about my old boyfriend, I decide, so I move away to adjust a display of sweaters in a businesslike manner. But Suze follows me, oblivious.
“And now here he is, living in Letherby,” she says wonderingly. “That must be weird for you.”
“No it’s not.”
It is a bit, but I’m not admitting that.
“It must be a little weird,” persists Suze.
“It’s not weird at all,” I say firmly. “Why would it be weird?”
“I mean, he’s quite different from Luke,” muses Suze, ignoring my protestations. “Are you going to go to his Christmas party?”
“Dunno,” I say after a pause. “Are you?”
“Of course!” she says eagerly. “We have to go! I bet it’ll be awesome, all musicians and cool people.”
At that moment there’s a clatter as a customer knocks over a pile of toffee tins, and we abandon the conversation. And as I’m stacking them back up, I try to absorb this strange new fact of my life. Craig Curton is living in Letherby. And he looks so different! His arms. His hair! It’s so swooshy and thick, and that stubble really suits him….
By mistake I knock over the toffee tins again, and as Suze looks round I hastily say, “Oops!”
“Distracted, Bex?” says Suze, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully, and I lift my chin in dignity. Of course I’m not distracted. At least I’m not admitting it to Suze.
But, oh God, I can’t help it—I feel as though seeing Craig has opened up a window into the past. Memories of uni are piling into my head. Those jeans I used to wear. And that lipstick. What was I thinking?
I was quite awestruck by Craig when we first got together. I thought he was really intellectual because he talked about Schopenhauer and drank a brand of gin I’d never heard of. But now, from my position of maturity, I can see that I shouldn’t have been so impressed. I mean, anyone can drink gin and talk about German celebrities. I was talking about Heidi Klum just the other day.
Anyway, it was all a long time ago. We all went out with weird people when we didn’t know any better. When I first met Luke, he was going out with a totally snooty girl called Sacha de Bonneville, so he can talk. (Why am I having an argument with Luke about this in my head? I have no idea.)
I put the last toffee tin in place and shake back my hair. It’s just one of those strange, random coincidences. And Suze is right: If Craig throws a Christmas party, we should go. Maybe famous people will be there. Or maybe he’ll play some new song and we’ll be the first to hear it.
Maybe he can get us VIP tickets to his next concert! I feel like I suddenly have a whole new status symbol which I can drop casually into conversation: “Well, of course, I used to date a rock musician….” “Well, of course, I was always his inspiration….”