Strum

"You hungry?" Kevin asked as some point? "You can have something on the house if you like."

"No thanks," I said, hungry from the sights and smells of food, but genuinely feeling the butterflies in my stomach now. His smile and gentle squeeze of my shoulder helped a little.

And then it was time. The moment of truth, where I walked through the main bar room, which was vibrating with a hundred conversations, men and women and even several children with families sitting and standing, sharing a laugh and a drink. It was growing dark outside the window, and the pub's door opened to reveal a couple more punters who'd arrived in this overly warm enclave for a drink and feed and chat and maybe some okay entertainment if they were lucky.

Taking a deep breath, I tried not to watch my audience too much, maybe like when you climb something high you might decide not to look down. Climbing onto the stage was a tiny step up, but I couldn't avoid not looking down, seeing everyone, noticing it was only the children who paid attention to me. A boy and girl were playing by the stage, and they looked up and the little girl asked, "Are you going to sing us a song?"

"I'm going to try," I smiled.

The other child made a face. "Miss Stokes makes us sing God Save the Queen. Are you going to make us sing it too?"

I must say, the boy's comment made me smile and calmed me. "I don't think you need to worry about singing God Save the Queen tonight."

"Good," the boy replied. "Anyway, I don't think people will hear you because it's really, really noisy in here, don't you think?"

The boy had a point, the noise in pub from all the conversations was unbelievable. How could anyone hear me? I guess it was time to find out. I smiled at the kid and tested the keyboard with Middle C again, finding it was plugged into the PA and worked as expected, and I tapped the mic, then looked up, wishing my heart would slow to a more respectable beats per minute than its current racing pace.

I looked for Tanya. In reality the bar was only ten or so metres away, but across the sea of patron's heads the bar appeared to be a distant land. Kevin was there and he gave me a thumbs up, and when I looked further around the room, Tanya was collecting glasses from tables. She stopped and smiled and stuck her fingers to her mouth like a V and wiggled her tongue between them.

"Oh my God," I whispered, sucking in a deep breath through my teeth, part grinning, part grimacing, shaking my head, placing my fingers on the keys, looking down...

And I played.

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, it follows that beauty is also in the ear of the beholder. But is there some universal beauty? If so, it has to be Pachelbel's Canon in D. How many times have I played this masterpiece? So many times and my fingers fell on the keys, knowing the route, and I closed my eyes, wondering what the audience made of this classical piece, not daring to watch.

The thing is, I'd spent much time during the past few years trying to mash up different songs, to see what works and what doesn't, where mixing across genres was fun when it worked, and about two minutes into Canon in D I seamlessly shifted into Mr Brightside by the Killers.

I opened my eyes and began singing, and there were a few people watching me, and I knew I was doing just fine, because soon there were more pairs of eyes facing my direction, then there were one or two or maybe a few singing along, and I didn't dare look too much, playing and singing, where something inside told me I'd hooked enough people's attention, and soon there were more voices and suddenly it was like we were singing an anthem, at least a quarter of the room chorusing along with me if I were to hazard a guess.

Not that I had time to guess or even think too much about it, but my eyes were open and we chorused the finale together, and even before I'd stopped playing, the room erupted in applause, and I realised I'd not only hooked them I'd also fed the little devil on my shoulder who told me I'd used up my one trick and wouldn't be able to keep their attention.

And this was my problem, where I suspect I get it from Mum, but I don't have enormous reserves of confidence. But Mum travelled for the purpose to try and gain confidence and perhaps find who she was, and she found herself over here in London, and this was one of my drivers, taking on all the new experiences, and here I was in a pub playing songs to an almost packed house whose attention I'd gained and now I felt it was critical to keep them.

I'd learnt to ignore the little devil on my shoulder using several strategies, like making lists of things I needed to achieve, these things helping me maintain focus, and the next song on list in front of me was Under the Bridge, by the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Dad and I used to play this song regularly on our guitars. Dad was very much an amateur guitarist, nowhere near as skilled or professional like Mum, and he mostly only played during our little jams. Later, when I was good enough, I'd play piano while Dad still strummed away on his beat up old acoustic. Now I launched into Under the Bridge with barely a pause, throwing myself straight in, playing and singing, and again there were a few people singing along with me from the start.

The little girl and boy down front were surrounded by other children, where the patrons made enough room for the kids, and they stood there watching, but two kids were swaying and spinning about, dancing nice and slow in their own way, becoming more boisterous when I increased the song's tempo in our journey towards its conclusion. They made me smile and my confidence was boosted, and I think this was the moment the little devil departed my shoulder, not to be seen again the entire time I was on stage.

"Thank you, thank you," I said, encouraged by the applause when the song finished. I looked around for the first time since I'd begun playing and I'd estimate half the people in the room were facing the stage. Across the room I caught Tanya's eye as she did her rounds, and she smiled, and I felt it in my heartbeats, realising what she meant to me and wondering what I meant to her.

I reached around and took her guitar from the stand, sat a back from the keyboard, adjusted the mic, then said, "This song has been sung by a few singers over the years, but finally a fellow Aussie made it famous. I'd hazard a guess many of you may even know it. Sing along if you like!"

I began strumming, singing Natalie Imbruglia's Torn. Most of the kids down front danced now, like little moshing rug rats, several people clapping along, giving me a beat to play to despite not having a drummer, and for the first time I noticed a number of phones held up, their camera's facing my direction.

This was something real. Unbelievably real, and I was tearing it up in a bloody good way. After Torn I took a drink of water, and smiled at the kids down front. Perhaps I thought I was being funny when I said to them, "I love your dancing, I think we need to have some little talks when I'm done here."

There was no point to the joke other than to introduce my next song, Of Monsters and Men's Little Talks. People were smiling, singing, some drinking, many conversations still being had, Kevin at the bar pouring beer and wine, Tanya was there too or moving between tables, other staff doing the same, some carrying plates of food, and I was part of the entire operation, in this warm pub somewhere in London.

More enthusiastic applauses were given and I thanked my audience, telling them, "This is a song both my Mum and Dad regularly play on their car stereos. Mind you, they separated when I was very young, and neither Mum nor Dad knows each other plays the song about as often as the other does. But I know for a fact that when they play it, they are thinking about each other. This is the Foo Fighters' Everlong.

What a song. The song Mum and Dad sang to each other the night they first hooked up. How do I know this? Dad told me. Not the details, of course, at least not the naughty hook up details, but rather, he told me how Mum and he watched the Foo Fighter rock the Big Day Out festival, the festival they attended together by luck and chance, then later in evening, actually very early next morning, Mum sung Everlong to Dad, and he told me he joined in with her and it gave him goose bumps and he said it still does and he knew he loved her, where it was one of the most special nights of his entire life.

And it gives me goose bumps thinking about them, because I know he and Mum did fall hopelessly in love, and though things didn't work out for them as a couple, life worked out for them in other ways, and it worked out for me, and I felt goose bumps forming on my arms, watching many in the crowd as they sang along with me.

Some people whistled and cheered and many more clapped, and the kids smiled and so did I. What a night. What else could I say but, "Thank you, you're all too kind."

A shrieking whistle pierced the room and when I looked up Tanya was there pulling her fingers from her mouth, and I laughed and she grinned, and I said to her across the crowded room, "You know this one, so sing with me, you're my Wonderwall."

A cheer erupted from the crowd and soon many were singing Oasis' Wonderwall with me, and the kids were clapping in time, and I paused my singing to let my audience sing the chorus, and many did. This song brought my biggest applause yet and I gave a little grin and said, "You guys are amazing. This is so unexpected."

I received a little applause for my comment and sat back at the keyboard, readjusting the mic. "Okay, so I know for a fact everyone has a guilty pleasure, and this is one of mine, from a long time ago. My Aunty and I sing it regularly at karaoke."

I tickled the keys and sang Belinda Carlisle's Heaven is a Place on Earth. Why? Because like I said, it's one of my guilty pleasures. My Aunty Miriam and I belt this one out regularly on her karaoke machine. I noticed far more women in the audience sang along to this than men, which I'd expected and hoped for.

I followed with another iconic eighties tune and another karaoke special, Papa Don't Preach by Madonna, all with piano and my voice with the backing of those in the audience who sang with me. Same with Amy Winehouse's Back to Black, despite knowing my voice wasn't strong enough to bring the song to life, but no one appeared to mind. More applauses followed and I glanced at the clock over the bar, noting I'd played for almost forty minutes. I could finish up soon, because Kevin told me all I needed to play was between forty five minutes to an hour, but I was having way too much fun.

I took a sip of water and looked around, noting people were falling back into their conversations and drinking, which is what they were primarily here for, and the kids began playing a game of sorts on the floor in front of the stage, giggling and trying slap each other's hands, and two boys were chasing each other around their parent's legs.

"Right, this one's for you kids in the front row, dance along even if you don't know it!" And I began playing at an upbeat tempo and brought U2's Beautiful Day into this wonderful evening. The kids danced like only kids do, some adults joining in, and the crowd were clapping and damn it was such a fun song to play.

Another sip of water and I looked to the bar, spying Tanya there, pouring a glass of wine for a woman in a red dress, so I started playing the piano while speaking into the microphone. "Um, I wasn't meant to play here tonight, but I'm starting to believe it was meant to be. I, ah, made a special friend recently, and she's likely served many of you a drink tonight. This song's for her, because I'm Waiting on a Friend."

Someone yelled out, "Yeah!" and I saw Tanya look up from behind the bar, and she shook her head and bit her lip, but I reckon she was laughing.

This was the last song we heard from The Rolling Stones as we shared long and deep kisses in the moments before we made love this very afternoon. And thanks to my Grandfather I'd heard this song many, many times, enough to know the lyrics, and now I sang it for Tanya. Several clapped in time and sang along, others joining them, and it sounded like half the people in the room were singing along. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but they were loud and some were probably getting drunk, but happy drunk this time of night.

I finished singing but kept playing the keys, eventually letting the song fade, and there was applause and cheers and whistles, and I smiled, looking for Tanya. Kevin was beside her at the bar and so was another barman, so I dared to call out through the mic, "Hey, Kev, will you spare me your right-hand girl for a few minutes?"

Kevin looked up from the beer taps and pointed to Tanya with a quizzical look. Tanya appeared equally confused, frowning, but I nodded and Kevin gave her a shoulder a pat and pointed in my direction.

Tanya shook her head but Kevin smiled and gave her a little nudge, and she gave a dirty look but came around the bar and threaded her way through the crowd, arriving at the foot of the stage. I smiled at her and without breaking eye contact, speaking to her through the microphone, saying, "Don't be shy, come join me."

She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, stepping onto the stage and I stood and offered her the guitar. Her guitar. She frowned but still slung the strap around her shoulder, whispering, "I'm going to kill you..."

I replied with a cheeky smile and tapped the sheet of paper I'd stuck to the keyboard. "When I practiced this one earlier at your place, you were singing and playing along."

She swallow and there was some fear in her eyes, or nerves. While I adjusted the microphone stand to her height, she whispered in my ear, "I'm not as good as you. I play for fun, you're like a professional."

Shaking my head, I sat back at the keyboard and began to play, telling her, "I'm not a professional. And you have the voice and people need to hear it."

Like a rabbit in the headlights, Tanya stood there, those in the audience paying attention were staring back, and I kept playing, and I told the audience, "My friend here is a little starry eyed because she's fresh from playing Wembley Stadium yesterday, and but you might need to give her a little encouragement and just don't dream it's over."

It was obvious to many what I was playing and some of them took to clapping along in time, and despite her trepidation Tanya began to strum her guitar. She closed her eyes and began to hum into the microphone, and we kept playing. Most of the audience were clapping along now, several phones held above the sea of heads.

There came a moment when Tanya started to sing, "There is freedom within, there is freedom without..." Wow, she'd never sounded so perfect, at least to my ears, her voice mesmerising.

Half the pub joined in, maybe more, singing along to Crowded House's Don't Dream it's Over, and when I turned to Tanya I saw perfection, hearing perfection too, and maybe she sensed my eyes on her because she looked to me and smiled, and we played on, and dare I say our finale was rather rousing, and people were clapping and some cheering and my heart was bursting.

Tanya stood there, frozen, so I joined her, taking her hand, and she gripped onto me, and I gave her a smile and she smiled in return. We moved to the side of the keyboard and bowed. More applause shook the air, my ears ringing with the sound. "Thank you, you were all great, especially you kids down front. I was like you only ten years ago. Go crazy and follow your dreams and don't ever let anyone tell you you can't sing or dance, because you should always sing and dance! Don't ever dream it's over."

I didn't know what I was saying, saying whatever came to mind, and Tanya let my hand go to pull the amp jack from her guitar and we stepped from the stage to be greeted by pats on our shoulders and people telling us we were amazing, and Tanya, who still wore her guitar on her back, finally laughed, and turned to me and said, "Holy shit, you are a crazy bitch."

"Takes one to know one," I laughed as we threaded our way through the throng of people, some still congratulating us, most returning to their conversations or heading to the bar. I practically dragged Tanya through the door into the back room, and I jumped up and down, laughing hysterically. "Shit! That was fucking amazing! You were fucking amazing!"

"It was all you, lover," Tanya replied, the tone of her voice so very serious. "Except for the last bit, the fucking crazy shit you pulled was..."

"Was what? You loved it."

She laughed. "I was terrified."

"I thought you were a singer?"

"I don't do...well...in front of people, I told you that."

"You can't hide in the park and let the little devil on your shoulder keep you from sharing your gift."

"Huh?"

"That little devil on your shoulder," I sang, doing a little break dance in front of her, "Tells you it's scary to sing and dance."

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I love dancing."

"Ahhh, whatever, it's over, and those arseholes who said no one needs to hear you sing when you were a kid were dead wrong. So don't dream it's over, but for now our work is done. Not yours though, because here's the boss man come to take you back to work."

Tanya turned to see Kevin, who'd entered the room. "Actually, I came to see you, but yes, sorry, Tans, but you're needed back out there at the bar."

"Well, looks like the dream really is over," she said, smiling back at me.

"Go pour our adoring fans some drinks," I laughed.

"Sure," she said with a smirk, "Our adoring fans."

"Nah," Kevin said, "They loved you Tans, they are your biggest fans!"

"Oh, you are funny," she said, shaking her head, but I know she was suppressing her laugh.

"You fucking killed it," Kevin said to me. "I've not seen an audience get so into our live music here because it's never happened like with you tonight. Not even Wesley kept them so...engaged for the entire time. Don't tell him I said this, though."

I felt my face burning now. "Thanks, it was...just singing."

"You were profesh," he said. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

I shook my head, smiling, saying, "I told you I've busked and played in school bands. That's about it. I never joined another band or sang professionally, but I guess I've hung out with professional musicians all my life."

"You fucking should become one of them," he said, his eyes intense. "Anyhow, drinks are on the house, go get smashed if you feel like, and I'll drive you back to the hostel, and...yeah, I'll pay you from the till at the end of the night. Do you need anything else?"

"Um, I'm starving, I could do with a feed."

"Come to the bar and you shall have what you ask for. All on the house."

"No worries." What else could I say? He left and I picked at Tanya's guitar where she'd left it on the table, strumming the strings, wondering if I'd get another chance to play it again, leaving it there, turning and heading out to the main bar.

Tanya was there and she laughed at me when a number of people offered to buy me drinks, two young men asking me for my number straight up, and several Australians began grouping around me for selfies, claiming me as their own.

A tap on my shoulder had me turning around to see a grinning Wesley. "Hello, songstress."

"Hey, Wes," I said, and threw my arms around him as if we'd know one another forever.

His arms lifted my feet off the floor and he said, "I caught the second half of your act, and you were bloody brilliant. I know Kevin's telling you you're better than me, and it's true. Because you managed to get Tanya out of her shell and up onto the stage."