whisperback

Arch comeback on the cards?
Last night, Daniel Newman and his bandmates were spotted in Astraia, mingling with the cream of English celebrity. This is the first time all five members of the band have been seen together since the infamous split two years ago. A club-goer is quoted as saying, “They seemed to be getting on well, you know? They’re mates. Yeah, I’d say they’ll be back.”

Sorcha fumbled slightly with her cigarette lighter. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked at her cousin.

“Lewis, be a darling and give me a hand, would you?”

“I shouldn’t because, you know, smoking’s bad for you and, well, you’re not supposed to be in here,” said Lewis but he lit her cigarette for her anyway.

Sorcha shrugged and looked around. They were in the men’s room of the most exclusive nightclub in London; black marble and blue lights and the throb of bass that made the mirrors shake. Sorcha was perched on the edge of a basin, a cigarette in one hand and her compact mirror in the other.

“Fuck, most of the glitter’s worn off,” she said before she took a drag and offered the cigarette to Lewis.

He shook his head, frowning. “No, thanks. Why do you wear that stuff anyway? It just gets everywhere.”

“That’s the point,” said Sorcha with a grin and she reached for her cocktail glass, having forgotten that she had finished it about half an hour previously. “Fuck.” She looked at Lewis. “But, hey, you didn’t mind the glitter on Daniel, did you?”

Lewis looked pained. “I can’t believe you did that to him. He looked like a fucking Christmas tree. And poor Gabriel!”

“Gabriel’s the angel on top!” Sorcha started to laugh hysterically.

“You think Gabriel’s hot?”

“Oh, bloody hell, Lewis, you are no lover of man if you cannot see how hot he is. God, I definitely need more booze if I’m telling you this sort of thing. Oh, and mascara.” As she started to reapply her eye makeup, tongue sticking out slightly, she asked, “Are you having a good time, Lewis, darling?”

“Surprisingly good, actually, seeing as I never liked nightclubs when I was an undergraduate.”

“Aha, but you never liked boys either! Things change.”

“I think I need another drink at this stage,” said Lewis. “Brian has a bottle of champagne that I have to get back to.”

“Good luck with that,” murmured Sorcha, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “I definitely saw some blonde chick wrapped around him and she was showing great interest in that bottle of champagne.”

“The bastard!” cried Lewis jokingly. “And I thought I was the only one.”

“God, you are quite gay, aren’t you?”

“Very bloody funny. Come on, are you done? Let’s go.”

Sorcha slipped off the basin and readjusted her top. “I look like such a slut,” she said cheerfully.

“In comparison to the girls out there?” asked Lewis. “You look like a fucking nun.”

It was true, incidentally. The nightclub was full of anorexic C-list celebrities, schmoozing and shimmering their night away. It was like a galaxy of minor stars, connected through a haze of cigarette smoke. The band had the VIP section to themselves, fortunately, only venturing out to the dancefloor when Oakey insisted that the music was of sufficient quality.

Lewis opened the door for Sorcha and she giggled as a celebrity (lesser than Arch) did a double take.

“Is this the men’s…?” he started to ask.

“Oh, you’re in the right place, love,” said Sorcha before she took Lewis’ arm. “Shall we, darling?”

They made their way back to where Brian was sprawled out on a couch, chatting to Jan (the blonde chick was nowhere to be seen). Gabriel and Daniel looked breathless, having made another foray onto the dancefloor.

“We were accosted by women!” whined Daniel, sliding onto Lewis’ lap. “Hold me.”

“You up for another dance, Barnes?” asked Sorcha. “I’ll keep the daytime soap girls away from you, I promise!”

Gabriel grinned and nodded and ran his hand through his hair. Sorcha noted with satisfaction that he was still shedding glitter, like a falling halo.

“I assume you can dance?” she shouted over the sound of the music as she led him onto the dancefloor.

“I’m a drummer!” he shouted back as if that explained everything.

When they started dancing, of course, it all became clear; the rhythm owned Gabriel or Gabriel owned the rhythm; either way the man could dance.

Later, they picked their way along the London streets. Sorcha was wearing Gabriel’s jacket and insisting that she could walk, despite her crippling boots. Daniel and Lewis kept stopping to kiss until Jan told them that they had to walk on either side of her or else they’d never get back to the hotel.

The following morning, Lewis sat at the breakfast table in the suite, head in hands, as Liz read out the headlines in the Sun. His hangover rather hindered his comprehension of the situation but it seemed that Arch were back in the news; comeback kids, reunited.