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“So! Sam said your family are Doonies. Mine too.” Nick pointed to the boy wearing the claret and blue football shirt in the melee below. “You’ve already seen Tarq, he’s fourteen. My other brother Rupert is sixteen, so he’s playing in the men’s game for the first time. He wears glasses and is a slighter build, so Sam said he’d keep an eye on him.”
“He will.” Evie gave Nick another appreciative once-over: tartan cashmere scarf, black trousers, and the shiniest top-stitched, brown leather shoes she’d ever seen. The seventeen-year-old looked fit for an audience with the queen, not an Orcadian brawl. She met Nick’s eyes. “Why aren’t you playing?”
“Erm…” He sucked in his bottom lip and chewed it for a moment. “Well, I would if I was allowed.”
“Allowed?” said Evie. “Everyone’s allowed—well, if you’re a guy.”
“No, it’s my mum,” said Nick. “She’s quite strict about me playing sports. In case I get hurt.”
“But it’s okay for your younger brothers?” Sunita huffed. “Someone’s the favorite.”
“No, I’m not. It’s just…work.” Nick clarified. “If I broke an arm or cut my face—”
“What?!” Sunita howled. “That’s so privileged. And weird.”
Evie threw Sunita a peeved look, but his explanation didn’t make sense to her either. “I thought you played football with Sam?”
“Sometimes, yeah. What Mum doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
“You sure?” Sunita hunched over and crammed the bottle in her backpack. “People talk here.”
“Not to my mum they don’t,” said Nick, keeping an eye on the surging horde of determined adolescents. “People here think she’s a bit…much.”
Sunita straightened up. “Yeah, well, we’re not impressed by bigsy behavior or showbiz shite.” Harsh but true. The more ego or pretense, the less likely Orcadians would be awestruck.
However, the last thing Evie needed was for Sunita to sour this special moment with Nick by criticizing his famous mother.
Sliding her boot sideways into Sunita’s trainers, Evie delivered a subtle Quit it! tap and plastered on a breezy grin for Nick’s benefit. “So no more Dalston Grove, eh?”
Sunita rolled her eyes and started a conversation with the woman in front of her who owned the fish and chip shop by the harbor.
“Do you miss it?” asked Evie.
“Yeah, I’m feeling a bit adrift. Our cast was super tight. Like family, you know? A part of me feels envious, watching them carry on without me.” Diving into his coat pocket, Nick unearthed a packet of candy and unrolled the torn opening, offering the sweets—white bottle-shaped gummies.
Milk Bottles were never Evie’s favorite, but she helped herself anyway. “Oh, I love these! Thanks.” She popped several of the jelly candies into her mouth and chewed, their sickly-sweet flavor bringing back unwelcome schoolyard memories of scraped knees and playing kiss-chase.
“But I’m looking forward to a new challenge, something that’ll stretch me as an actor.” Sounding wiser than his years, Nick bit a Milk Bottle in half and examined the remaining piece. “Seven years is a long time to play one character.”
“I guess, yeah. So you a triple threat yet?” she asked cheekily.
A blank look crossed his face as he chewed. “Sorry, what?”
He’s forgotten our chat? Evie’s heart dipped. “The singing? You said before? At music camp—”
“Oh right. I’m working on it, taking vocal lessons with this West End bloke. Andrew Lloyd Webber recommended him.”
Evie’s eyes bulged. “You know him?”
“My mum does.” He held out the bag of candy again.
Fingers slipping inside, Evie rescued another squishy sweet. “Nice for some! You’ll be the Phantom in no time.”
“Nah, I’d rather play Judas. Now that’s a role.”
“What, like in Jesus Christ Superstar?” she asked.
Nick lit up, clearly delighted Evie was familiar with the musical. “You’ve seen it?”
