Twenty Four

132 8 4
                                    

2015

After lunch a car comes to pick up Ricky and Simon and take them to the evening's venue for the sound check; they'll be staying there until it is time for them to go on stage. I could have gone with them now but have decided to stay at Simon's and join them later. I want to shower and get ready in comfort and I also need a little bit of time to myself after what has already been an emotional morning. I'm slightly worried that this evening is going to be just as emotionally draining, what with meeting the rest of the band again and then actually seeing them perform live for the first time.

Before I start getting ready I borrow Ricky's laptop and go online to try and find out firstly if Central Saint Martin's still offer the course I've completed two thirds of, and secondly how I can go about completing the final year. After a bit of time clicking round the website I discover that the course director is a lady called Martha Golding; she had had been my favourite tutor whilst I was studying. After the events that preceded my breakdown she had done her best to help me get through the trauma, and after I'd tried to kill myself had visited me several times, firstly in hospital and then at the psychiatric unit I was admitted to.

The knowledge that she's now in charge encourages me; if she remembers me and if she is anything like she had been back then I know she'll do her best to help me finish my degree if it's possible to do so. Clicking onto the email link below her name I start to compose a message to her, hardly able to believe I'm doing this. It's only a couple of hours since I've voiced my desire to complete my degree. Mind you it's only six weeks since Ricky had walked back into my life that Friday morning and already I've agreed to go and look at a house with him tomorrow.

On my own I'd probably never have actually done anything about finishing my degree, but with Ricky's encouragement in particular I'm actually going to. His confidence in me makes me feel like I can do anything; it always did.

*~*~*~*~*

As predicted, I end up crying when they play Ruby that evening. Ricky glances across at me when the opening bars play and gives me a huge smile but much as I want to, I find I can't even watch; I have to walk away from my position at the side of the stage for a few minutes, grab a drink and pull myself together.

Hiding behind one of the huge packing cases they store and transport equipment in I give myself a stern talking to and wipe my eyes. Thankfully while getting ready I'd thought to use the waterproof mascara that Tara had given me a few weeks earlier and when I check the damage using the camera on my phone I see that it isn't too bad. I've looked a hell of a lot worse and hopefully by the time they came off stage I'll look better.

After I've used my phone to check the state of my face I realise that it is showing an email notification in the corner. I almost ignore it but for some reason I change my mind. Wandering back to the side of the stage I tap the screen, opening my emails to quickly check what has come in, not expecting anything of importance. I stare at the screen in disbelief when I see that I've already had a reply from Martha. I read it quickly, not really taking it in, then slip the phone back into my bag. I'll look at it properly later; for now I have to get back to watching Ricky.

Other than my tears over Ruby the gig is amazing; right from the opening bars of The Angry Mob, to the closing notes of Oh My God, I'm enthralled. Jack had been right when he told me that Ricky is mental on stage, although mental probably wouldn't be the word I'd use; passionate springs to mind more, but I suppose it depends what your perspective is. I don't think Ricky stands still for a moment while he's on stage; he's clearly in his element. Watching him is exhausting and thrilling and also a huge turn on.

*~*~*~*~*

"So what did you think of last night?" Ricky murmurs as he runs his fingers down my arm, tickling me a little.

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