Star Struck by Jane Lovering

‘Something we have in common, lovely, I don’t like the crowds so much either. It’s a stupid profession that I’m in for someone who hates gatherings like this, but, hey, you do what you’re good at, don’t you?’
    I gave a hard, slow blink to stop myself wondering exactly what else he was good at. ‘Where’s your …. every time I’ve seen you there’s been … security men?’
    â€˜Ah, Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men. Given them the slip for a moment.’ He gestured towards a bottle of Scotch and a single, full glass balanced on the wall near the steps. ‘Just wanted some fresh air and a drink of something that doesn’t taste like mule’s piss.’ The voice dropped to that whisper again and I had to lean in close to catch his words. ‘You won’t give me away, will you, bach ?’ He shook his head, comically scuffing a toe in the sand like a child.
    Suddenly there was a presence at my other shoulder.
    â€˜Geth? You’re wanted inside. They’re going to announce the arrangements for tomorrow’s Big Competition, you have to be there.’
    â€˜Oh, what? Why? Can’t they get on without me?’
    â€˜You’re the star .’ Jack’s voice was bitter. ‘Of course they can’t do it without you.’
    â€˜But …’
    â€˜Geth.’ Warning, now.
    â€˜Oh, fuck. All right, boy, I’ll be there. Keep your shirt on.’ Gethryn turned to me. ‘Rain check on this then, bach , yes?’ And before I could answer he’d headed back up the steps into the diner.
    I stayed where he’d left me, stunned. Half-consciously rubbing my scar with the back of my hand and making a mental note to always always use this brand of cover-up. Mouth still open.
    â€˜And you, pull yourself together.’ Jack spoke from between clenched teeth. ‘Mr Fantastic has gone now.’
    â€˜I can’t believe …’ I was staring into space. ‘He spoke to me. He actually spoke to me!’
    â€˜Whoopee doo.’ Jack sounded sardonic now. ‘Is that his drink?’ He gestured towards the bottle and glass on the wall.
    â€˜No.’ I wanted Jack to give me the bottle. It was something Gethryn had touched. I would keep it forever. And I was never going to wash this hand again.
    â€˜Okay. If you say so.’ Jack gave me an odd look. A sudden renegade breeze startled his hair over his face and, as he brushed it back, I noticed his eyes looked worried. Unsettled. ‘Just … Skye. Gethryn isn’t … He’s sometimes a bit … difficult, you know?’
    â€˜You don’t have to worry about me,’ I said tightly. ‘I’m capable of looking out for myself.’
    All I got for that was an ironically raised eyebrow which, bearing in mind this morning’s little fiasco, had a point. ‘I realise that I’m shouting prayers in the Church of Satan here but just … be careful. That’s all.’
    He was more smartly dressed than I’d seen him before, I noticed now. A proper shirt, and jeans that were if not exactly dressy, then at least clean. He wore a narrow-framed pair of glasses and for one tiny second I felt a tickle of familiarity. I’ve seen you somewhere before. A long time ago … Before the accident? Possibly, but this had the feeling of not being part of the memory loss, simply something I couldn’t immediately recall. Perfectly normal not-remembering of something … Something that came associated with … trouble?
    â€˜Oh, there you are.’ Felix came fussing across the yard like a hen whose chicks have become dispersed. ‘Fancy a stroll?’
    Jack stared at him. ‘Are you not going to listen to the announcement about tomorrow’s qu–’
    Felix cut him off. ‘Are you feeling all right, Skye? You’re a bit pink … Did it all get a bit