Rising Star (20 page)

Chapter
33

When I arrive back at the Sing-Win house, the atmosphere between George and Tammy is decidedly frosty. But once we get into rehearsing, the excitement starts to overtake them both. To be off the show and then back on again is too dramatic a turn of fate to see them at loggerheads.

To begin with, I’m preoccupied too. Adam’s promise of a date is on my mind. But I soon begin to focus on other things as the music gets going.

We’ve chosen a lighter song for this contest. Not exactly pop, but we wanted to show a fun side of us to the judges.

I also picked the song to try and ensure the mood between George and Tammy stays friendly.

I suspect some fireworks are due before too long. But I’m just praying it doesn’t happen before the show.

At the end of the day we’re all utterly exhausted – a by-product of too much drama and not enough rehearsal time.

But I’m confident that with another rehearsal tomorrow, we’ll put on a good show.

And we’ll finally have a fair shot
, I think, remembering all the foul play that has gone on previously.

I haven’t told George and Tammy about the big producers
’ set up. But I’m really looking forward, to finally competing on fair terms.

I guess for this show, the public really will decide.

Chapter
34

Adam meets me at the back of the Sing-Win house. And I feel a delicious sense of subterfuge, sneaking out and into his warm welcoming kiss.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I admit. Though it’s only been a few hours since I saw him last.

We walk over to his motorbike, and Adam swings a leg over the front. He hands me a helmet.

“You ready to go Summer?”

“Of course. Where are you taking me?” I ask, sliding onto the back of his bike. “Another surprise?”

I’m getting to love his surprise dates.

“I thought it was time you have some fun,” says Adam. “You’ve spent the last week working hard. And when you weren’t working hard, you were dealing with some kind of drama.”

“That’s true,” I agree, sliding on the helmet he hands me.

It’s been a tiring week to say the least.

He turns to make sure my helmet is secure, then kicks off the bike with a loud roar. I cling on tight, as he barrels us out onto the London streets.

I’m getting used to trave
lling by motorbike now. It’s such a fast way to get around London, everything else will seem slow now.

“Aren’t you even going to tell me what part of London?” I yell above the roar of the bike.

In front of me, he nods.

“We’re going to Kilburn,” he says. “To an Irish pub.”

An Irish pub. Sounds like fun.

The roads become smaller as we weave through suburban streets. And then we pull up outside a huge rangy-looking pub. Even from the outside it looks warren-like – as though different buildings have been grafted together over the centuries. The building looks neat and well kept, and there’s a cheery painted sign, announcing Morgan’s Bar.

Morgan’s Bar!

I slide off the bike grinning at Adam as I pull off my helmet.

“This is your bar?”

“Not mine. A relative.”

“A close relative?” I ask, trying to work out who might run the bar. Adam has already told me his brother and mother live in Ireland.

“You’ll find out,” he smiles.

“It looks fun,” I say, taking in the colourful entrance.

Already I can hear Irish music piping out from the doors.

“I think it’s time to let your hair down,” agrees Adam. “I want to see that carefree smile I love so much.”

“I didn’t know I had a carefree smile,” I reply.

“Oh, you do,” says Adam. “Remember the little dance song you sang me in the audition?”

I frown, remembering.

“Move to the Music? The song you didn’t like?”

“That’s the one. I think I fell in love with you there and then Summer Evans. Your whole body seemed to bounce with the song, and you looked so fun, singing with a happy smile on your face.”

I laugh to hide the rising blush.

“I didn’t know you thought that,” I say. “In fact as I remember, you were kind of cold in that audition.”

“I had to defend myself against your charms,” he says, grinning.

“And what about now?” I ask, leaning close, and kissing his mouth.

He pulls me in, responding with a deep kiss.

“Now,” he murmurs, “I have no defences left. You’ve bewitched me. So I guess I’d just better love you with all my heart, hadn’t I?”

“I guess so,” I reply, my body tingling for him.

“So,” says Adam, “shall we go inside? Have a dance and a few pints?”

“I think we should.”

Adam takes me by the hand, and leads me across the threshold. And as soon as we’re inside, the pub explodes in light and noise.

I love it. It’s like the biggest party, and everyone’s invited.

Automatically, I feel myself beaming.

“This is great!” I yell, above the noise. At the back I can make out a tiny section, where three men are playing instruments as though their lives depended on it. A violin and penny whistle are issuing notes at breakneck speed, and the whole pub is part of the pace.

“Come on,” says Adam, “I want to introduce you to the owner.”

He drags me to the crowded bar, and raps on the counter. From deep at the back, a small man with silver hair turns around.

He has lively, dancing eyes, and a set of thick sideburns, which frame the lined skin of his face. When his gaze settles on Adam, the twinkling eyes light up anew.

“Well I never!” he announces, loud enough to involve the whole bar. “If it isn’t me little nephew. Good to see you lad!”

Nephew? This is Adam’s uncle?

I stare, intrigued. There’s a definite resemblance. The jawline, and dark colouring with blue eyes.

“Hello Uncle Ron,” beams Adam, leaning across the bar to grasp his uncle’s hand. The two men grip each other in a warm handshake, throwing their free arms around one another’s shoulders.

“I was wondering when you’d get down here,” says Ron, deftly picking out a Guinness glass and sliding it under the beer tap. “We all knew you were back in London for Sing-Win. We thought you’d have come by ages ago.”

His eyes drift to me. “And I think I’ve just worked out why you’re not there,” he adds, beaming at me. “Hello pretty lady. Adam, would you care to introduce me?”

“This is Summer,” says Adam proudly. “She’s a singer. An amazing singer.”

“I know she is,” says Ron, taking me in. “I’ve seen her on TV.”

“Hey!” grins Adam, “enough of that. No flirting with my girl.”

Ron’s eyebrows raise, and he looks at me.

“Looks like you’ve done the impossible young lady,” he murmurs. “Seems you’ve managed to tame Adam Morgan.”

There’s a slight pause, as I try and stem the deep blush rising up my neck. Adam’s uncle mercifully changes the subject, gesturing to his bar.

“What’ll it be to drink?” Ron asks, beaming at me. “We have Guinness, or Guinness. Or if you’re in a celebratory mood, I’ll give you a Guinness with a Jameson whiskey chaser.”

I laugh.

“I’ll have a Guinness then,” I say.

“Grand.” Adams uncle slides another glass under the tap, and begins topping up Adam’s pint.

“Are the lads in tonight?” asks Adam.

Ron nods towards the back of the room. “Over there. They’ll be made up to see you. We’re always glad to see you on the telly. You’ve done us proud lad.”

Adam bows his head slightly, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him look bashful.

“Ach, none of that now,” admonishes Ron, sliding two pints of Guinness in front of him. “Of course we’re proud of you. We all are. You’ve put all that hard living behind you now. Got it out of your system.”

I remember suddenly, that Adam had something of a celebrity lifestyle a few years back.

I guess his uncle didn’t approve.

Adam’s uncle pats his arm in a fierce hard motion.

“You’ve grown up a fine young man. Your father, God rest his soul, would have been proud.”

I glance at Adam, wondering how he’s taking this. But the reference to his dead father doesn’t seem to have troubled him.

“Thanks Uncle Ron,” Adam says, picking up the first pint and handing it to me.

“Come on,” he says to me. “Let’s go meet my surrogate family.”

“Your surrogate family?” I ask, as he guides me across the bar.

Adam nods. “My Uncle Ron is my Dad’s brother. He’s the closest thing I have to a father, and I love him just as dearly. But these boys you’re about to meet,” Adam gestures to a little huddle of people sat around a small table, “I worked as a building labourer with them for two years when I first came to London. They’re like my second family.”

As we approach the table I make out four people. Two men, and two women, all of whom I would judge to be in their late twenties.

The two men have the heavy-set physiques of people who work hard for a living. They’re dressed in their site clothes – heavy cement soiled boots, dusty T-shirts and ripped jeans.

The two women both have dark hair. But whilst one is dressed in a feminine ruffled dress, heels, and barely there make-up with long curling hair, the other wears deep red lipstick, a print shirt with jeans, and a straight bob.

One of the men looks up as Adam approaches, and his face bursts open in delight.

“Fucking hell!” he cheers in a musical Irish accent, “I was wondering when you’d get down here. We’ve been watching you on TV all week.”

The men both stand up, and embrace Adam affectionately. They have similar rounded faces, with close-shaved heads, and green eyes.

Brother
s, I decide.

“Summer,” says Adam, “This is Paul and Dave O’Leary. They looked after me when I first came to London.”

“Adam was a little lad,” says Paul, taking me in with a broad smile. “But he soon learned the ropes. Fastest boy up a ladder we’ve ever seen, wasn’t he Dave?”

“Only
’cause roofing’s the easiest job,” laughs Dave, moving to shake my hand. “Hello Summer. Good to meet you love.”

Adam laughs too. Then he turns to include the two girls at the table, who are smiling at me with interest.

“This is Nieve and Emily,” he says. “They’ve kept Paul and Dave in line for the last few years haven’t you girls?”

Adam moves to hug Nieve and Emily, kissing them fondly on both cheeks. I move forward a little more shyly, shaking their hands. They both beam at me warmly.

“We’ve seen you,” says the red-lipsticked girl Nieve. “On the telly. You’re in the girl band, right?”

Like Paul and Dave, she has an Irish accent, but it’s not so strong as Adam’s.

I nod shyly. I’m not sure how to deal with being recognised from TV.

“Your voice is amazing,” sighs Emily. “There’s something really special about it. You should do a solo on the show,” she adds. “So we can hear just you.”

Nieve is nodding.

“Thanks,” I say, not sure how to take such glowing praise. “I really appreciate it. We’re just glad to still be on the show.”

“After that vote rigging?” snorts Nieve. “That was disgusting. We all knew it was bullshit, you getting voted off. I loved that video.”

She turns to Adam.

“So, Adam,” she demands, “I hope she’s put an end to your wandering ways?”

She glowers at him disapprovingly.

“She has Nieve,” says Adam. “You can stop worrying about me now.”

“We did worry,” says Emily, in a softer voice. “We thought you’d be a bachelor forever.”

“I thought so too,” says Adam. “But love can change a man.”

He shoots me an adoring gaze, and I sense a ripple of surprised delight go around the group.

“Well,” says Paul, glancing at the women. “Our young man’s in love finally. This calls for a celebration. Let’s get the band to play us a ceili dance.”

Adam smiles, glancing at his uncle behind the bar.

“The old man won’t like it,” he warns Paul. “It took him years to come around to people dancing in here. He’d rather they tapped their boots and stayed sitting.”

Paul grins. “It’s about time he realised there’s younger folk than him in here. And your young lady looks like she’d enjoy a dance.”

Without waiting for my agreement, Paul disappears in the direction of the band.

“Sorry about him,” says Adam, watching Paul vanish. “He’s always been bossy. The pair of them are.”

“That’s why we took such good care of you,” says Dave. “And we didn’t discriminate, on account of you being from Belfast.”

“Kind of you,” agrees Adam, taking a sip of his beer. “Paul and Dave are from the Republic of Ireland,” he explains to me, “that’s why they have such soft accents.”

Dave grins. And then there’s a sudden announcement from the stage.

“We’ve had a request for a ceili,” calls the lead musician. “Who’d like a group dance?”

Cheers go up from the pub. I can make out vague cries of protest from Adam’s uncle. Although as I glance over at him, he’s only half serious.

“You’re here to drink, not to whirligig!” Ron shouts, in a laughing tone.

“Get the old man up for a dance!” bellows Paul, his voice echoing through the bar. “Cure his miserable ways!”

This is met with delighted agreement from most of the pub. Ron is shaking his head, but a few of the bar staff are forcing him out from the bar. Gauging from his half-hearted struggles, he doesn’t really mind.

“Just one dance then,” he concedes, as the rest of the bar forms a broad circle of partners. “Then you’d all better buy me a beer.”

A smiling woman with her hair in a tight bun is brought forward to partner Ron. She looks in her fifties, but her physique reminds m
e of my mother – spry and slight.

“See that woman,” whispers Adam, nudging me, “we’ve been trying to get Ron to make his move for the last year. Who’d have though
t the old ones would be so shy?”

I shrug, enjoying the spectacle of it all. It’s impossible not to get swept along in the mood.