Immortal

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, still lingering. ‘By the way, I hope you are comfortable at Gleneagles.’

  ‘Yes,’ she couldn’t help but give a little smile. ‘Very comfortable. Thank you.’

  He gave her a long look, but then just nodded and walked away.

  Carpe Diem didn’t keep their fans waiting. When they burst onto the stage, the crowd below exploded. Amaranthine had seen groups of hysterical girls and wild young men cause mayhem in front of the stage before, but this was something else. After John shouted ‘Good evening, Bonnie Scotland!’ to the microphone, the band weren’t able to start playing for longer than their first song would usually last. The masses of Scottish fans clapped and cheered continuously, raising the volume every time John tried to speak. No other crowd had given Carpe Diem an ovation like this before, even at the end of their performance. Here, they went ecstatic before the boys even played a note.

  Not knowing how to react, John, Patrick, Will and Joe came to the front of the stage to wave and bow until the fans felt the greeting was enough. The first song began, John’s voice shaky with emotion.

  Every song they performed sounded like the band had grown wings, feeding off the energy of the crowd. By the end of the concert – Carpe Diem didn’t take a break, for the first time ever – even Amaranthine’s VIPs were singing the lyrics with John and tapping the beat with Joe’s drums.

  ‘What a voice!’ they shouted when the third encore was over and the band put their instruments down. ‘What drumming!’

  ‘These lads are going down in history, I’ll be damned if they don’t!’ said another man from the VIP section, clapping his hands harder than anyone as Carpe Diem boys waved and bowed in front of the stage again, all four dripping with sweat and exhausted, but with the biggest grins on their faces.

  And then, just as they were to leave the stage, Gary run to the front of it and whispered something to John’s ear. Amaranthine could feel tension rise amongst the thousands of people gathered at the stadium, she could hear everyone think the same thing – what was wrong? What was the emergency? Could something horrible have happened to spoil this perfect night?

  All eyes were on John as he slowly stepped back to fetch his microphone. For a few seconds there was a desert silence in this venue packed full with fans of rock.

  ‘I have something to tell you, folks,’ John’s voice resounded, slow and clear, reaching every person as if he stood right by their ear. ‘It’s snowing outside!!! Merry Christmas everyone!!!’

  All eyes travelled upwards where the retractable roof started to open, letting in a cloud of snowflakes. The mayhem that followed made the greeting ovation seem like a shy cheer.

  When the band disappeared behind the scenes and the crowds dispersed, Amaranthine saw to her VIPs getting safely to their hovercars. When she was finally free, she switched on her idatron and picked up Daniel’s message. The venue for the party was a bar in the city center called Lord Tennyson’s.

  Amaranthine stayed behind, wrapping up loose ends with Murrayfield Stadium management and the security staff – things she would normally leave to deal with the next morning. She even collected all video material from the concert that’d only just finished, edited it herself and uploaded onto Carpe Diem’s globenet site. The upcoming Christmas break gave her a great excuse for doing all this so late at night; she simply told anyone who asked that she wanted to deal with everything before her vacation. The true reason for her procrastinating lay somewhere completely different, though, and she was aware of it.

  Carpe Diem’s Christmas party.

  Despite working with them for the last nine months, Amaranthine knew that their world existed in a different dimension from hers. She could handle doing business with Mortals, she even had a very satisfying relationship with one of them; a relationship that taught her a lot and that she valued even now when it was over. But going to this party was stepping onto their turf and into their private lives, lives in which they were surrounded by their families and customs; lives that were through and through mortal. She knew she didn’t belong in there; she knew that however courteous and polite they would try to be to her, she would feel like an elephant in the room.

  Balancing on being unacceptably late, she finally got into her hovercar and headed for the bar. From the drop-off point, she had a few hundred meters up the hill along the oldest street in Edinburgh, the Royal Mile. As she walked, she passed a few very old, traditional pubs, filled to the brim with blithe people. She heard snippets of toasts, Christmas wishes, songs. A few youngsters on the other side of the street were trying to have a snow fight, making balls out of quickly thickening, furry carpet of snow. The snow was still too dry as the low temperature persisted, but it didn’t seem to spoil their fun. Big snowflakes rested on her shoulders and hair, sparkling like crystal in the street lights.

  Lord Tennyson’s was an inconspicuous place, with a narrow entrance marked by a small signboard. She would have missed it if it wasn’t for Eiko guiding her to the door. She stepped in, immediately submerged in the ambiance of this place. It was lit exclusively with hundreds of real candles – yellow, orange and red – and smelled of seasoned spices, warmth and fine wood.

  A member of staff checked her ID and directed her to the function suite downstairs. She walked slowly, guided by the characteristic noises of a party, a blend of conversations, clinking of glasses, laughter and background music. She recognized the sound of a fiddle and an accordion.

  There was a wooden partition at the end of the hallway; right past it was the bar’s function suite. Amaranthine stopped, wanting to get an overview before stepping into the room.

  Out of sight, she scanned the crowd, trying to fish out Daniel. In the middle of the bar sat John, Patrick and Gary, sipping whisky. At the far end William and Joe, accompanied by three young girls – one of them was Daniel’s sister Lyndsay – holding each other’s shoulders, more for support than out of affection, were singing a folk song called Seven Drunken Nights, a very accurate choice for their current state. Every time they made a mistake in the lyrics, the fringe of girls, also far from sober, burst out laughing.

  Having spotted most of the familiar faces, Amari looked closer at the other guests. They were, as she had expected, of all ages. She tried to guess who belonged to Daniel’s family, but it was impossible to know; there were a few couples in their fifties and sixties who could be his parents. They stood in circles around the bar or sat at the low wooden tables, sipping pints of dark beer and glasses of wine.

  She couldn’t see Daniel from her hideaway. He must have been sitting further away, behind the others, in the dense crowd. She decided to head towards the bar and join Gary, John and Patrick.

  She took a deep breath and stepped into the room, bracing herself for furtive glances, conversations stopping mid-sentence and awkward attempts of small talk. Just one hour, she thought, that’s all I need to put up with. Show face, be professional and polite, and I’ll be free to go back to my own world.

  The first circle of guests she had to squeeze past consisted of two women and four men of middle-age appearance.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said. Here, that’s where it’s all going to start. As soon as they notice me. One glance and they’ll know who I am and their looks will tell me that I don’t belong in here.

  To her surprise, nothing happened. Two of the men let her pass, not only without judgmental looks, but with brief smiles. Then they went back to their conversation. The others in their circle didn’t even give her a second glance.

  The second group was exactly the same. Then the third and fourth. Everyone simply got out of her way and carried on with their business. She got to Gary and the boys without anyone paying particular attention to her.

  ‘Hi guys,’ she said, ‘sorry I’m so late. I had to take care of some business after the concert.’

  ‘Amari!’ they made space for her in their circle. ‘It’s so cool you made it.’

  ‘Here, have a seat.’

 
‘Let’s get you a drink. What would you like?’

  ‘I’ll have a mojito, thanks,’ she said.

  ‘Jimmy! A mojito for the lady, if you will.’

  ‘We were just saying,’ Gary said as Patrick ordered her cocktail, ‘what a journey it’s been this year. And how smooth you and Daniel made it for us.’

  ‘Thanks, Gary,’ she smiled, ‘just doing our job.’

  ‘You’re being modest,’ John said seriously, ‘but just so you know, we really do appreciate how hard you’ve worked. Not just on the publicity front, but looking after us directly. The media would have eaten those two alive if it hadn’t been for you.’ He pointed his whisky glass at Joe and Will who were struggling with the last verse of Seven Drunken Nights.

  ‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She’d never had a casual conversation like this with them, which, she realized, was a little strange considering how long they’ve been working together. It seemed everyone just focused on their job – the boys to play good concerts, Gary to assist them, her and Daniel to take care of everything else with the help of Tom, Maddie, Frankie and Angela. She was surprised they noticed specific tasks she did on their behalf.

  ‘You guys were particularly good tonight,’ she said. ‘And what a welcome from your Scottish fans, I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘Blew our minds, too,’ Patrick grinned. ‘It was a brilliant Christmas send-off.’

  Despite her original intention to find Daniel as soon as possible and get over and done with meeting his family, Amari chatted to the boys for a good while, more and more surprised at how insightful and complimentary they were about her work. The details they noticed were incredible and left her gobsmacked at how little she really knew them.

  Meanwhile, the band started playing again, just in time to stop Joe and Will from trying to perform another folk song. As well as the fiddle and the accordion, there were also a guitar and drums. The music they played was cheery and brisk, so much so that soon the little dance floor was full of people, amongst them Angela and Frankie performing a rather complicated routine of intricate steps, turns and jumps. Soon others formed into couples and followed their lead. Amari watched, fascinated.

  ‘What is this dance?’ she asked John. ‘How do they know all the steps?’

  ‘It’s a ceilidh,’ he explained. ‘Every kid in Scotland knows a few of these. They’re quite easy, actually, despite appearances. This one’s called the Gay Gordon’s. You wanna try?’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ she laughed. ‘No, I’ll just watch if that’s ok.’

  ‘It’s really much easier than is looks,’ he said. ‘If you watch closely, you’ll notice how the steps keep repeating over and over. A bit like your line or square dancing.’

  ‘I’ve always imagined Scottish dancing to be highly skilled,’ she said. ‘With elements of ballet.’

  ‘That’s highland dancing you’re thinking about,’ John said. ‘This is ceilidh. There’s a big difference. Anyone can dance ceilidh.’

  She looked back at the dance floor, now filled with more than ten couples. She tried to observe the steps, but they still seemed far too fast and complicated to follow. Then a new piece of music started and there was a commotion as the dancers tried to figure out the new routine.

  ‘This one’s the Military Two Step,’ John explained again. ‘It’s quite easy also.’

  Indeed, the dancers figured it out quite quickly and soon moved in a more organized way, forming a circle and moving forwards and backwards in synch. A few more couples joined in, including Lyndsay and Joe and Maddie with her partner, presumably the boyfriend she went on about so much in the last few weeks. The audience standing near the dance floor clapped and cheered.

  ‘Is Daniel still here?’ Amaranthine asked, remembering that she hadn’t seen him.

  ‘Sure, he’s around. Last time I saw him he was helping his sis out with the baby.’

  ‘Helping out with a baby?’

  ‘Yes, his newest nephew, Susan’s son, remember?’

  ‘Oh, yes, of course.’

  ‘Ah, there he is,’ John pointed behind her back.

  Amaranthine turned around on her tall bar stool.

  He stood in the far end of the room, where he’d probably been all along, except now she could see him thanks to part of the crowd having moved over to the dance floor. His sister Susan sat at a nearby table, engaged in a conversation with an older couple and a man her age. Daniel paced around, swinging a white bundle in his arms.

  He was wearing a kilt made of deep purple and blue tartan. The white blanket in which the baby was wrapped was in stark contrast to his indigo-blue shirt. There was something incredibly caring about the way he held his nephew, as if he was holding the most fragile thing on the planet. She saw him smile at the baby, although it seemed like the little boy was sound asleep.

  Suddenly he looked down at the table where his family sat and Amari realized that Susan was pulling his sleeve, drawing his attention to the fact that Amari was there. She felt embarrassed, unsure how long she had her eyes fixed on him from across the room. Susan waved to her and smiled, before taking her son from Daniel. Amari waved back and straightened up on her stool. She looked at him settle the baby in his mother’s arms and giving him a kiss before he moved towards the bar.

  He looked incredible. The kilt not only enhanced his features, it also seemed like it made him feel more comfortable than any other outfit she’d ever seen him wear. His disheveled hair, casual gait and facial hair all seemed to be a part of his attire. She felt an overwhelming desire to hug and kiss him.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you come in,’ he said with a smile. His eyes pierced her with their blue magnetic force. ‘It’s good you made it.’

  ‘It’s good to see you,’ she said, unable to tear her gaze from his face.

  ‘Let me get you another drink,’ he said, glancing at her empty glass and beckoned the barman. ‘Seems like our boys are so much on holiday that they forgot their manners.’

  ‘Oi, brother,’ John protested. ‘We were looking after her all right, don’t you worry. Even tried to make her dance ceilidh.’

  ‘You wanna try it?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘No way,’ she shook her head. ‘I would break my both legs if I did.’

  ‘At ceilidh? You’re kidding. No one’s ever broken their both legs dancing ceilidh. It’s really easy, despite looking hard at first.’

  ‘So John tells me,’ she said. ‘But I seriously don’t think it’s a good idea. Even if I didn’t break my legs, I would spoil everyone else’s enjoyment. It seems quite coordinated.’

  ‘You’re missing the best thing about ceilidh,’ Daniel said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The more mistakes you make, the more fun it is.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  ‘You won’t know till you try,’ he teased her.

  ‘Maybe another time.’

  ‘Ok, fair enough,’ he said, picking up two glasses of mojito from the bar and handing her one. She took a sip.

  ‘Do you train staff in every bar you go to how to make your mojito?’ she asked.

  ‘Yep,’ he smiled proudly. ‘How well do they make it here?’

  ‘Perfectly.’

  ‘I see you’ve figured out how far my brother’s mojito obsession goes,’ Susan joined in the conversation, emerging from behind Daniel’s back.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with perfection, sis,’ Daniel fired back, putting his arm around her. ‘So long as you are a perfectionist over things that matter, that is.’

  ‘That’s my brother right there,’ Susan shook her head, ‘impossible to argue with. Hello, Amari, it’s nice to see you again. It’s been a while.’

  ‘It has, hasn’t it,’ Amari shook her hand. ‘I’m afraid business has been pretty hectic in the last few months.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Susan said, ‘but it’s ok, you’re here now and you don’t have to worry about work for a few day
s.’

  ‘Yes, I must say it’s a nice feeling,’ Amari said, realizing that she actually meant it. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m great,’ Susan smiled. ‘I’ve been like new since I got out of the hospital. This is my husband, Nick,’ she introduced the man who’d just joined them.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,’ Nick said, shaking her hand with both of his. ‘I just wanted to thank you for what you did for our family.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Amari replied, realizing that this was the moment she had been dreading, and now could not understand for what reason. These people were… nice. Down to earth. They spoke their mind in a natural, straightforward manner that made it easy to respond. They made her feel comfortable.

  ‘Can I borrow you for a sec, Amari?’ Susan said, ‘our parents would really like to meet you.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, standing up. Her heart picked up the pace.

  They walked over to the corner where the older couple sat. They both had completely silver hair.

  ‘Mum, Dad, this is Amari,’ Susan said as if she was introducing someone famous. ‘Amari, this is my Mum, Cathy, and my Dad, Mark.’

  She looked in turn into their eyes that shone with gratitude. She stretched out her arm for handshakes, but none of them stopped at that. Instead, they both gave her big, hearty hugs. However unexpected, their gestures felt strangely fitting and natural.

  ‘We will never be able to repay you for what you did for our daughter,’ Mrs. Collins said. ‘All we can hope for is that that good karma will come back to you when you least expect it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Amari said, looking up at Mr. Collins and finding it hard to believe that this tall, jolly man was the inventor of the hovering engine. ‘I really didn’t do much, it was a lucky coincidence.’

  She felt something squeeze between her and Susan, brushing against her leg. She looked down and saw a little girl in a cute pink dress. She was clutching a big envelope in her hands and looking up shyly.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ Susan put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. ‘Amari, this is my daughter, Chloe. Chloe, this is Amari.’

  Not sure what to do, Amari extended her hand. The girl looked at her with her huge, brilliantly blue eyes. Then, instead of shaking her hand, she handed Amari the envelope.