Page 3 of Sunshine Boy

They left the stage sans enthusiasm. Mel watched as Rahul’s gaze lingered mournfully on the back of Julian’s head, like some sorry Victorian sod gazing after the ghost of his long-lost love. It was pathetic. Mel couldn’t understand the whole “unrequited love” thing. If someone didn’t love you back, move on. They clearly had no taste. And who’d want to be with a bloke with no taste anyway?

* * *

The band almost didn’t see him when they poured into the greenroom. He’d been lying down on the sofa, possibly napping, but perked up like a Labrador retriever when they entered. Mel dove forwards before anyone could have a chance to react. She needed this to play out just right.

“Look at you, you old bastard,” Mel said, allowing herself the rare smile. “Long time no see, eh?”

“Oui,” he said, kissing Mel on either cheek.

She looped her arm companionably through his and presented him to the others. “This is Henri, my old mate from uni. Met on my year abroad in Nîmes. He’s just moved to London, and don’t know nobody. I told him to come round.”

“You were magnifique.” He beamed his charming, dimpled smile at them. “Vraiment. The post-New Wave, punk-parody, industrial gothique is -- how do you say? Underestimated? By modern critics. Performing it is a defiance not only to them but to the narrow standards of the industry.”

Mel grinned smugly. He could say anything with that accent of his and it would sound like fucking poetry.

“Finally,” Kwambe said, handsomely. “Someone else who can go on about that rubbish with Rahul.” He stuck out his hand for Henri to shake, all blinding white teeth and smiling brown eyes. “I’m Kwambe. This tall one is Rahul.”

Henri dismissed his hand and kissed both of his cheeks instead, moving quickly onto Rahul. He had to pull Rahul down by the shoulders to do so, and, if Mel wasn’t mistaken, Rahul was distinctly red around the ears afterwards.

“Enchante,” Henri said.

“And I’m Julian,” Julian pointed out impatiently.

“Ah, oui,” Henri said, “Melanie’s brother. I’ve heard much about you.” But he made no motion to kiss him on the cheek as he’d done the others. “Rahul, I could not take my eyes off your keyboard work. Did you train classically?”

“I did, as a matter of fact.” Now Rahul was the one beaming, and that was a rare sight indeed for the gawky man. “I trained in the piano, the bassoon, the trumpet, the guitar, and the violin.”

“Ah, c’est vrai. I could tell. It was in the way you moved between alternate scales.”

“You have a good ear, sir. Do you play an instrument yourself?”

“It is a misfortune, but I do not. I am only an enthusiast.”

“You should learn. I think you’d pick up an instrument easily. Where are you staying in town? I could help tutor you when you’re not busy.”

“Mel, a word? Over here?” Before she could respond, Julian was already dragging her away to the far end of the greenroom. Rahul and Henri continued to chat as though they hadn’t even noticed. Kwambe began slowly extracting himself so he could go light up at his and Mel’s usual spot. Mel longed to join him and made up her mind to shrug Julian off as quickly as possible.

“Not bad, eh?” Mel told him proudly once they were sufficiently far away. “It was the best I could do under short notice, but it’s worked out pretty well if I do say so myself.”

Julian gaped at her. “You can’t mean this is the bloke you’re setting Rahul up with.”

She frowned. “Well, yeah. Who’d you think he was? Father Christmas?”

“You really couldn’t do better than… him?” His mouth curled in distaste around the word as he eyed the skinny Frenchman.

Mel couldn’t help seeing the irony. Henri was practically the French version of Julian. An inch or two shorter, possibly even skinner, but just as pale. With naturally dark, curling hair and a boyish smattering of freckles across his sharply featured face, Mel dared say he might even be better looking than Julian himself. When she’d first been set the task of finding Rahul a Julian replacement, she’d sent feelers out through her network of trendy Camden bohemians, inquiring after available young men interested in other available young men. It just so happened her old friend was in town and on the pull and, as she remembered from her school days, he made a decent Julian facsimile. She hadn’t realised how much of an upgrade Rahul would be getting until she saw Julian and Henri next to each other.

“Yeah, well, they seem to be getting on fine, don’t they?”

Julian sneered because it was clear that they were getting on. Better than Mel could’ve hoped. “You couldn’t have found somebody less…”

“French?”

“Pompous.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you he’s a bit of an arrogant prick, but he isn’t for me or you, is he?” She clapped him on the back. “Just sit back and let the Mel magic work, yeah? You’ll have your Scandinavian paramour back in no time.”

The way Julian was eyeing Henri, as if he were a clump of waterlogged hair dredged up from the drain, suggested he was less than convinced.