Page 118 of Under Your Spell

And like Alice and the White Rabbit I decide to simply follow him down the rabbit hole. I mean, how much weirder can the day get? As we get nearer to the stage, the music gets louder and louder.

Various crew members rush past, looking busy, and about half of them call out a greeting to Ripp. I guess he really is a familiar face around here.

‘I sneak in to watch a fair bit when I’m in town,’ Ripp says, clearly reading my mind. ‘I like to see who’s coming up. Sometimes I’ll find someone who we can offer a support slot to, help get their name out. It’s a tough business.’ He shakes his head. ‘Small venue for a man like Theo Eliott to play, but it sounds like they’re a good crowd.’

He’s not wrong. I can already hear the audience roaring their approval.

‘Ripp, let me ask you something.’ I put my hand on his arm, tug gently at his sleeve.

He comes to a halt. ‘Sure, shoot, kiddo.’

‘Say you wrote an album… the best thing you ever wrote, and it was all about Mum, or, I don’t know, the woman you love, and it contained all these tiny little private details about your relationship. Would you release it?’

Ripp’s brow crumples in confusion. ‘I don’t understand the question,’ he says.

I laugh. ‘Don’t worry. I think you just answered it.’

We climb some stairs and then suddenly, there we are, right at the side of the stage.

And there he is. Theo. He’s wearing a red silk jacket with nothing underneath it, and matching trousers. A baby blue electric guitar is cradled low on his hips, the strap slung around his neck. His fingers dance up and down the frets, silver rings flashing in the light, the ends of his dark hair damp with sweat as he flicks it away from his eyes.

His expression is intense while he croons into the mic, his eyelids drooping as that gorgeous gravel voice fills the air. I can’t take it in. He’s Theo and he’s not. He stops singing for a moment, waits and lets the crowd scream the words back to him, a smile on his face. No one can keep their eyes off him.

‘Wow,’ I whisper.

‘Yeah,’ Ripp nods, standing close behind me. ‘That kid’s got the goods.’

‘He does,’ I agree, looking out at the crowd, how spellbound they are, and instead of feeling queasy, I just feel proud.

Suddenly, the lights on stage shift and Theo’s gaze slides in our direction. I realize a second too late that from his viewpoint I’m standing, spot lit, right in the middle of the stage entrance.

‘Oh, shit.’ His eyes burn into me and I gulp, lift my hand in a weak greeting.

Theo’s own hands fall away from his guitar and he stops singing. Just stops dead. There’s a moment of jumbled discord as the rest of the band try to work out what’s going on, but Theo only stands there, eyes locked on me, and slowly they stop playing, too.

The entire auditorium of two thousand people falls silent.

My heart is beating so fast that I realize I am going to find out what it feels like to die of embarrassment. This is it. This is the end. I have just ruined Theo’s gig. If this doesn’t actually kill me, then Serena definitely will.

Some awkward chatter breaks out in the crowd, a hum of confusion. Is this part of the show? I know they can’t see me, but I still feel exposed.

‘Excuse me, folks,’ Theo says, straight into the microphone. ‘I’ll be right back.’

And then he unplugs his guitar, places it in the rack beside him and strides off the stage, coming straight for me like a sexy, shirtless missile.

‘Oh, shit!’ I squeak again.

‘Clemmie,’ he breathes when he reaches my side.

‘Theo, what are you doing?’ I shove his arm, panicked. ‘You can’t just walk off stage in the middle of a gig. Get back out there!’

‘What are you doing here?’ Theo asks softly, completely ignoring me.

‘We can talk about it later!’ I hiss. ‘Just go, go!’

He smiles, folds his arms across his chest. ‘I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re here.’

I cast a desperate look at Ripp, and he grins. ‘Don’t worry, love, I’ve got this.’ Then he saunters nonchalantly out onto the stage.