My brother’s grin echoed his now, only Matthew’s was much wider and full of sarcasm as opposed to Tom’s smile of anticipation. He was really going for gold in the embarrassment stakes.

I weighed up my options for as long as I could get away with. I couldn’t do it. No way was I going to let myself down in front of my brother’s hot new band member by singing my cheesy lyrics of how I’d loved and lost (or thought I had) in my wonder years. I’d only written a handful of stuff and most of it was for my ears only. But then out of the blue something struck me. Something told me that I’d an opportunity to either make a fool out of myself or, on the other hand, to really impress this delight in front of me. Something told me to go for it that day, that in fact I’d nothing to lose, and I think that ‘something’ was the energy between me and Tom Farley. I had a feeling, despite my brother’s indifference, that Tom was going to like my humble efforts, even if my writing was in a genre that turned my brother’s stomach.

‘OK, I’ll do it,’ I said, surprising even myself. ‘I’ll sing you a song.’

‘What?’ Matthew burst out laughing and looked at Tom, but he wasn’t laughing at all. He was beaming in my direction, convincing me more that the sudden confidence within me was indeed coming from him. He was giving me strength to take a chance on this, to bare my soul and risk it that he might just like my music.

‘You go for it, girl,’ said Tom. His full lips looked so inviting. I could see his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed hard in my direction. ‘That’s just what I love to see – some good old pride and determination. I’m all ears and ready when you are.’

I stood up straight, and instead of scarpering off like a scared mouse as my brother hoped I would, I put my hand on my hip, took a deep breath and decided to go ahead and call Matthew’s bluff.

‘No problem at all,’ I said to them both. ‘You can get the drinks in, Matthew, while I go and get sorted. Give me a few minutes and I’ll be right back with a country song that will break both your little hearts.’

Tom Farley winked at me again and nodded his head in approval.

It was official. I was prime time in love.

ii

Twenty minutes later, now wearing my favourite retro flared pale blue jeans, a crisp, clean grey vest top and with my long, bleached curly hair hanging down round my shoulders, I strummed the last chord on my guitar.