and the source of the musky perfume smell – leaned in and whispered, “I’m so sorry about what happened to you.”
“You know, the stuff in Portugal...” “What stuff?”
The woman’s reply was drowned out as the audience erupted into applause at that moment.
“What?” she asked again. But it was too late. Nora was being beckoned towards the stage and her brother was elbowing her.
Her brother’s voice, bellowing almost: “They want you. Off you go.”
She headed tentatively towards the lectern on the stage, towards her own huge face smiling out triumphantly,
golden medal around her neck, projected on the screen behind her.
She had always hated being watched. “Hello,” she said nervously, into the microphone.
“It is very nice to be here today...” A thousand or so faces stared, waiting.
She had never spoken to so many people simultaneously.
Even when she had been in The Labyrinths, they had never played a gig for more than a hundred people,
and back then she kept the talking between the songs as minimal as possible.
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