“Where we going?” Gabrielle asked kindly.
Eryn grinned. “Well, I reckon you haven’t had time to get to know the city very well yet, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gabby agreed, nodding.
“So.” Eryn shrugged. “How about seeing a band? Meeting some of me university mates for a pint. Good times all ‘round.”
“Any chance of getting a shag?” Gabby joked.
“Oh, count on it luv,” Eryn laughed.
The pub was named something silly, as all pubs in England are, and was stuffed full to the brim with people watching the football match on telly with their mates. It smelled of salt, vinegar and lager. Gabby smiled and felt contentedly English for a moment before she noticed the band in the corner. Her mouth fell open.
“Who’s that?” she yelled over the loud sounds of the football match.
Eryn looked over at Rhythm and Blues five piece and laughed. “Oh, I know. Scandalous, innit, a bird singing and playing guitar in a band with the lads… she’s Holly; they’re called the Factory Workers.” She laughed. “Down from Wales if you can believe it.”
“Oy!” the lead guitarist snapped as a badly aimed dart whizzed past his ear. He frowned bloodily.
“Oh yes,” Gabby laughed. “Definably Welsh.”
“Nice girl,” Eryn nodded. “We’ll go say hello after they’re done. Come meet me mates now!” She grinned and pulled Gabby by the wrist over to a table where about ten people with Beatle-esque hair and expensive clothes sat smoking and drinking.
“Eryn!” cheered a short blonde with a pixie cut, “We thought you’d never make it,” she squeaked, giving Eryn a big hug.
“Good to see you, luv,” said a man with shaggy blonde hair and big blue eyes. He tipped his head back to look at Eryn and she ruffled his hair.
“Well, I’m here now,” she laughed. “This is Gabby Gallagher, she’s a photographer.”
Gabby waved limply and a chorus of “hey’s” and “hello’s” rained over the group. The short blonde shook her hand and winked.
“Catherine O’Hara,” laughed Eryn. “She’s rather quirky, but we love her.”
“Of course you do,” Catherine trilled, giggling madly.
“Works in fashion,” sighed Eryn. “Obviously.”
“Yes,” sniffed someone chain smoking across the table, “Dreadfully common.”
“Oh shut up Jeremy,” Catherine sniffed. “I’m with Mary Quant. She’s supposedly the next big thing.”
“Oh, quite,” the blonde man said with bravado.
“And this is idle Eric…or Eric Idle,” said Eryn, ruffling his hair again. “Whichever you prefer.”
“Charmed luv,” he said holding a hand out as if she was to kiss it.
Gabby laughed and shook lightly. “What d’you do then?”
“Oh, well,” Eric sighed. “Since you asked…”
Everyone groaned. “Not again,” Jeremy muttered, exhaling smoke at his pretty date. He caught Gabby’s eye and winked.
“I’m a writer,” Eric said, shrugging meekly.
“And a bleeding comedian,” Catherine snorted.
“On the side,” Eric shrugged. “So, luv, what do you take pictures of, then?”
By midnight Eryn was showing signs of falling asleep and several of her university friends had left.
“Wake up, darling,” Eric trilled in an obnoxious old lady voice. “Oooh, you young kids. Never getting enough bloody sleep.”
“Shut it.” Catherine rolled her eyes and took a drag off her cigarette before she stubbed it out in the ashtray. “Come ‘ead, I’ll give you a lift home.”
“Oh no.” Eryn yawned. “I’ll just share a taxi with Gabby.”
“I’m going to Kensington; I think that’s a bit out of your way if you’re heading south,” Gabby said, frowning. Christ, midnight and these people were yawning. What fun was that? There was at least five more hours of drinking to be done, at the very least.
Catherine stood and hauled Eryn to her feet. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”
“I want to go too,” whined Jeremy’s date, while she tugged at his lapel. Jeremy lit another cigarette. “It’s only midnight,” he snorted.
“I’m tired,” his girl sighed.
He shrugged and looked at Eric. “Are you heading in too then, leaving me all alone?”
Eric shrugged “At least five more hours before I’ll hit the sack.”
“Yeah, it’s early yet,” Gabby nodded, taking a sip of her lager.
Eric and Jeremy looked up at her as if they’d forgotten she was there. “Yeah,” Jeremy enthused. “The three of us… we’ll head for the Scotch and do a bit of dancing, yeah?”
“Jeremy!” His date stood up. “I’m leaving!” she burst out before staggering after Catherine and Eryn. Eryn was managing weak good byes to Gabby as she left the pub.
“Oh hell,” Jeremy sighed, running a hand through his curly mess of sandy hair. “Shall I run after her or stay here and get plastered?”
“Being a fellow woman, I suppose I must tell you to run after her,” Gabby replied.
“Or what?” Jeremy asked.
“Or you’ll not get a shag out of ‘er tonight.”
Jeremy grinned and leered at Gabby for a moment or two before he pulled a beer coaster and turned it over. “What’s yer number, luv? Next time I’m in London I’ll give you a ring.”
Well. Forward. And he was cute. She gave him the number to George and Ritchie’s flat and Jeremy nodded at her as he stood. “I’ll be seeing you around, Northerner.”
Eric and Gabby didn’t say anything, but finished off their own drinks and the drinks left at the table and the Eric said, “So you’re heading for Kensington too?”
Gabby pressed her lips together and smiled “Yeah, want to share a taxi?”
“Lovely,” he grinned. Gabby found herself grinning back. Oh…he was cute too.
* * *
The taxi ride was quiet until Gabby asked him about Cambridge and how he found it. Then there was no shutting him up, and she talked about New York and it was as much a civil decent conversation as two strangers with many similarities could have.
The taxi pulled up outside the flat and Gabby could see Ringo’s shadow moving around behind the closed drapes. She laughed at the wiggling figure.
“So, even though you’ve all ready gotta date lined up with our Jeremy,” Eric said, “How do you feel about me giving you a call sometime too?”
Gabby turned t o look at Eric. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek “I’d like that,” she grinned and climbed out of the taxi onto the pavement.
* * *
