Page 9

I glance at the fridges behind the bar.

‘Oh my God, they still make Kapop alcopops?’ I blurt as I clap eyes on the brightly coloured bottles.

Surely not? I thought they would have outlawed those by now. I haven’t had one since I was a teenager, I can’t believe it.

‘Yeah,’ the barman confirms. ‘You want one?’

You can tell he’s trying to fight off the disbelief in his voice.

‘Oh, absolutely,’ I reply, excited at the idea of a nostalgia hit. ‘I haven’t had one in a million years.’

‘We’ll have a Kapop and a beer then,’ my new best friend tells the barman.

‘What flavour Kapop?’ the barman asks.

‘Blue, please,’ I reply.

Blue was always my favourite. In hindsight, I can’t remember what it was supposed to taste like, but we always ordered them by their colours anyway.

‘Okay, coming up,’ the barman says.

I stand in silence, next to my new friend, as we wait for our drinks. Neither of us says a word; we just exchange smiles while the barman prepares our drinks.

‘Here you are, Mr L,’ the barman tells him, placing the drinks down in front of him. ‘On the house – sorry for keeping you waiting.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ the man, who I now know as Mr L, replies.

Mr L? He must be someone, some kind of big deal, if the barman knows his name, and he’s giving him free drinks. Oh, God, tell me that this isn’t Eric, Mel’s boyfriend, the one who owns the bar. It would be so typical if I just happened to bump into Marram Bay’s most handsome man, and he’s already dating my friend.

Mr L picks up my drink and holds it to his nose.

‘Mmm, blueberry,’ he says with a hint of playful sarcasm. ‘Enjoy.’

‘Thanks,’ I call after him as he walks away with his beer.

I take a sip of my bright blue drink straight from the bottle and, wow, it’s like I’ve gone back in time.

I make my way through the pub, dodging groups of people laughing, chatting and – I think – dancing, but the moves are questionable. As I sit down, Mel pushes a glass of prosecco towards me.

‘Eric sent over prosecco for the table,’ she says proudly.

‘That’s sweet of him,’ I reply, taking a sip. ‘Where is Eric, by the way?’

I glance around, looking for the mysterious Mr L, hoping and praying that they aren’t the same person, but I don’t like my odds.

Mel points towards the bar.

‘He’s over there, behind the bar,’ she tells me. ‘The one cleaning something off Tim’s shirt.’

I follow her gaze and feel a wave of relief wash over me when I see Eric, who is definitely not my mystery man, dabbing at a stain on Tim’s shirt. I look around the pub, trying to spot Mr L, but there’s no sign of him.

Mel leans in with a mischievous grin.

‘So, tell us, what’s it like living in London?’ she asks.

‘Yeah, we want all the details,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve never even been, you know, but it’s because I don’t want to, obviously.’

Oh, obviously.