Manchester - Present Day

************

Damn it's unfeasibly hot in here, or is it just me? Perhaps it's just my hormones, which are without a doubt wreaking havoc with my body temperature these days. Plus it doesn't exactly help matters when I'm unapologetically perving at a very sweaty, open-shirted Brett.

Yeah I know, it's bad. Even now the sight of him still makes me drool.

The Manchester Apollo is a relatively small venue, which is nice and intimate, but the heat from all the bodies packed in here is like being slowly cooked in an oven...gas mark 12, and all that.

The fevered atmosphere is electric, the noise of dedicated fans screaming and singing along to the lyrics fill the room, and the giddiness I feel transports me right back to my teen years again. It's nostalgia overload, as my heart thuds and flutters in my chest.
The power of music is incredible and like no other force on earth.
Music alone has the power to invoke memories we've long since forgotten, and to make us feel carefree and young again.
It reminds us of the sad times as well as the good times. Happier times. Simpler times.

It also brings people closer together, uniting them. Music breaches all kinds of social barriers.

I'm so stoked by the overall sense of togetherness tonight, that I actually find myself wishing I were here in a different capacity. As a regular fan, a member of the audience, just a girl in the crowd.
Well, woman.

But I'm here to do a job, and I can't afford to let myself become too distracted or overwhelmed. It would be way too easy to just ditch the camera and think sod it.
All I want really is to enjoy the show like everyone else, but if I do that I'll be in all kinds of trouble and more importantly......I won't get paid!

Besides, if I'm honest, getting to take photos of Brett is a dream come true for me. Some cynics who know of my back story would probably accuse me of being biased, but I don't give two hoots.
The camera loves him. He's so damn photogenic, any photographer in their right mind would agree with that. So it's not being biased. Not really.

He's always had an incredible stage presence, and he's still agile, snake-hipped, pouty-lipped and lick-the-mirror sexy. He has not lost his trademark, enviable ability to enthral a crowd as he struts his suff like the true rockstar that he is.

As I manoeuvre around the 'pit' (the gap between the barrier and the stage) leaning this way and crouching that way, in order to snap as many shots as I can from each angle before I change the shutter on my camera, there's a heart-stopping moment when he spins around and I catch his eye.

He holds my gaze for one beautifully brief moment, and then he does it...
He winks at me.

Please believe me when I say this still has the most peculiar effect on me. As I stand here I can practically feel every nerve in my body stand to attention, and my insides liquify.
Bloody hell, am I really that lame?
I'm a grown, irresponsible adult, yet when he winks at me I may as well be 17 again.

His simple action distracts me so badly, I almost trip over one of the many trailing wires that make the pit such a semi-hazardous place, and I have to be steadied by one of the security guys.

Oh hell, how embarrassing. That was a close call.
It's a good thing he sort-of knows me. I've seen him before at other concerts. A lot of bands use the same security teams, and as I'm a regular on the events circuit - now being a fully established gig photographer - you get to recognise familiar faces. Which comes in great handy when you've misplaced your photo pass.

I thank him, and hastily dart an anxious look up at Brett. I don't think he noticed my stumble
That is, I hope he didn't.

******************

It's 11:58pm, and I'm standing shivering in the cold, drizzly October night outside the entrance to the Hilton Hotel, when I ought to really be tucked up cozy and warm in the king size bed that's waiting for me four floors up.

But I can't sleep. I have indigestion and felt a bit sick, so I thought the night air might do me some good. And besides, I'm waiting.

Just then I see a black cab pull up at the side of the road. The rain on the windows obstruct my view inside, so I squint my eyes and wander out from under the safety of the canopy to try and get a better look.
The rear door swings open, and I smile to myself as the tall, lean figure of Brett climbs elegantly out.

He's whippet-thin these days, but fit and healthy with it. Which can't be said of all rockstars who've indulged in a couple of decades worth of narcotics, late nights and hours on the road.
No, those days are behind him now. Thank god.

He's dressed in smart black trousers and designer duffel coat, complete with a gentleman's scarf. Admittedly his hair could do with a wash, his long-ish fringe hangs down limply, lacking it's usual shiny lustre due to the sweat he's worked up on stage, and I just know he's going to be longing for a shower.

"Fancy seeing you here." He drawls, upon seeing me stood in the drizzle. My previously straightened, brown (yes I've recently gone brunette again) hair now frizzing to oblivion. "What are you doing out here, Sammy? You're going to catch a cold."

I roll my eyes at him as he scurries forward, ushering me inside.
His attentiveness is unarguably sweet and endearing, but if he's going to keep fussing over me like this for the next six months it's going to drive me round the bend.

"You'd better get used to it." Blandine had warned me when I recently bemoaned the woes of him treating me like I'm ill or disabled. "Make the most of it, Sam. A lot of women would love to be pampered like that."

And she's right, I know they would.

"I was waiting for you. What took you so long?" I ask as we make our way through the deserted foyer.

"Sorry, sweet. I ended up doing a bit of an impromptu interview for the Manchester Evening News...of all things. But you could've just called me."

"Um, I tried! But your phone was dead. Honestly Brett, what's the point of having a bloody mobile phone if you never charge it?"

"Shit. I forgot to pack my charger."

"Yes you did, so it's a good thing I packed it! It's in my bag." I inform him, and he gives me one of his lethal smiles which makes it impossible to remain vexed with him.

"What would I do without you?" He chuckles, wrapping a protective arm around me as we stand and wait for the lift. "Although, I think the helpful note you left by my keys the other day that said 'keys' on it, was a bit much. Was that in case I thought they were llamas or something?"

I laugh, a little too raucously than the night manager on reception deems appropriate for this time of night, and he fires a noticeably disapproving glance in our direction.
Luckily the door to the elevator opens right on time, and we step inside, sniggering like a couple of school children.

"Well, I've lost count of the hours of my life I'll never get back, helping you find the things that are in plain sight." I say teasingly.

"Alright, snarky." He grins, bumping me ever-so-gently with his hip. "I don't go on about the way you still bring up that one time you managed to cook dinner without burning it, as if it's going to get the baby into Oxford."

"Bugger off! Cheeky sod!"

The lift pings as we arrive on our floor, and we exit the lift quietly. Talking in hushed tones as we make our way along the carpeted hallway.

"Well now I've got that interview out of the way it means we can head home in the morning." He whispers, his wide smile brightening his face. "That gives me the rest of the week to finish painting the nursery."

I smile to myself as I fumble in my jeans pocket for the room key card.
He really is the most adorable man in the universe.
Sure he has his annoying little habits, who doesn't? I know I have a  lorry-load of my own, which at times bugs the living crap out of him.
But I still find some of his endearing.
Like the way he's doing his best to give up smoking to support me, being as I quit since I learned I was pregnant.

At one point I had to confiscate his nicorette inhalator because he was using that as well as using the patches too.
I even caught him wearing near enough the full pack last weekend. Driven to desperation he'd stuck several all up his arms in the hopes of  getting them to 'work'
Bless him.
He is really trying. Though on occasion he still sneaks outside for the odd cig on the sly, and he thinks I don't know but I do.
Using the ruse of stroking the neighbours cat, doesn't really wash. No matter how much I know he adores cats.

He holds the door ajar for me now so I can step inside, and no sooner has it closed behind us when he grabs me and kisses me deeply. His solid body presses mine up against the wall, and I slide my hands inside his coat then up under his shirt. I can feel the warm dampness of his skin and his muscles react, bunching and moving beneath my touch.

Oh, hello.
Is all I can think to myself.
Helloooooo.

His amorous attentions have me heating up instantaneously, and I must say I couldn't think of a better, more pleasurable distraction from my heartburn and nausea.
We are wrapped up in kissing each other silly. His hand slides to the back of my neck and into my hair, making me shiver and I moan into his mouth.
He tastes clean, and despite needing a post-performance shower he still smells clean too. Of my lavender soap to be exact, and I smile mid-kiss.

Then, quite unexpectedly he pulls back haltingly, and looks at me all concerned. "Wait, I'm not squashing you am I?" He places a large hand tenderly on my barely-there baby bump.

I sigh, but can't help smiling goofily at him. "Not at all, Wolfie. Please, stop worrying."

"Hm. Sorry. I can't help it." He looks unsure now, and I can anticipate what he's going to say next. "I need to have a quick wash anyway, beautiful. But don't feel you have to stay awake for me though. You need your rest."

"Ah ha."
I stifle a giggle, whilst resisting the urge to sigh again with frustration.
Honestly, there are times when I think his predictability could be infuriating if he wasn't so damn lovable.

He slips his coat off and slinks into the bathroom, leaving me to my own devices.
I take my own coat off and plonk down on the bed, grabbing the TV remote to flip through the channels.
A moment later I hear the shower running, then the sound of a loud thud, followed by a muffled string of curses.

"Are you okay?" I frown and look toward the wall. "You did it again didn't you?"

"Yep." He calls back, and I don't even bother to muffle my laugh. "Why does it feel like having a bloody brick dropped on your foot? Or a  can of cat food!"

He does this every time - forgets to take his phone out of his pocket before he goes into the bathroom, then drops it, usually because he's got wet hands. I'm pretty sure Apple are making millions from the cost of Brett's phone repairs alone.

"Come in here and I'll kiss it better for you." I say with a laugh. Joking obviously, because as much as I adore every square inch of Brett, I draw the line at kissing his feet.
I mean, if you're into that kind of thing then fine....but it certainly doesn't float my boat.

But I know that my offer will draw him out of the bathroom, which amuses me no end.

I hear the scuffling sound of rapidly moving feet, and he swings the door open, all legs and arms.

"Is that right?" He asks, grinning salaciously at me.

He's half-dressed, his trousers still on but unzipped, and shirtless.
Yowza.
I stand up, and he saunters over to me like a long, lean panther. And then he's stood right in front of me

"I could think of better bits you could kiss." He murmurs into my ear.

I squeak and place my hands flat against the smooth wall of his chest, pushing him back towards the bathroom, he steps back a couple of paces but he's not quite there yet.

"Sorry, that was graphic wasn't it?" He chuckles.

I nod. "Yes it was, but you know I rather like graphic." I push him again and this time I achieve my goal.
"Fancy washing my hair, Mister Anderson?"

His eyes never leave my face, as he enfolds me in his strong arms, a tiny confused but hopeful smile on his pillowy lips. "Maybe....but only if you scrub my back for me, Missus Anderson."

Then we're kissing again, and the world stops spinning, everything else falling out of focus. Even the noise of the water hitting the tiled wall, fades into the background, and there are no other sounds but our heartbeats and our breathing.

Don't get me wrong, our marriage isn't all rainbows and butterflies. Nobody's is.
Some days I think that Brett is too precious to ever die, other days I think he should be buried alive.
Only kidding of course.
I suppose the point I'm trying to make is, relationships don't come ready-made, they come in kit-form and you have to work at it together as a team.
I'll freely admit it hasn't always been easy. We've had our ups and downs like any other couple, and at times we've both been tested sorely.
We've had to rough out periods of separation due to mine and Brett's work, as well as other more complex trials and tribulations that have on more than one occasion pushed us to the limits of our endurance.

We even had a trial 'break' by mutual agreement back in 2001, during a particularly turbulent time when Suede temporarily disbanded, and Brett went through a self-destructive phase of overindulging in recreational drugs. My moods grew lower and lower as a result, and it all became too much.

However, it would seem our bond was so strongly forged it proved we couldn't live without each other. With each other's support and love we made it through.
Brett sorted himself out with the aid of rehab, and I stood by him. His recovery was enough to help with my depression and anxiety.

Our unshakable devotion got us to where we are today, and I will always stand by him. Through thick and thin, as I know he will me.
We cemented our union two years ago by getting hitched, after being engaged for several years.

My mum finally warmed to him, though there was one time after I'd transferred from Manchester Uni to London back in 1997, when she actually accused Brett of deliberately trying to poison her when he cooked us all a meal.
She'd come down for a visit, and neglected to mention her peanut allergy to him.
It was a bit hair raising, but hey, the three of us have looked back on the incident since and at least been able to laugh about it.
That's definitely a story worth telling the grandkids.

Like my dad and Jane, my mum can barely contain her excitement at becoming a grandparent.
Her new husband Stuart, is equally happy for us, along with the new step-brother I've gained, Simon - who incidentally looks disturbingly like John Travolta.

Needless to say Blandine is beyond thrilled as well, and can hardly wait to spoil her new nephew.
This is going to be the most-loved, precious little baby in the world, with the most caring, and dare I say 'coolest' family ever.
We've even talked about having Alex and Jarvis as Godfathers.
I mean seriously, c'mon. How awesome is that?

All in all, things have worked out nicely.
Very nicely indeed.

Brett's solo career is going swimmingly well, and I jumped at the chance of being his personal photographer on this tour to promote his latest album.
He frets that being on the road is too much for me, but I'm enjoying the excitement and the madness of it all whilst I still can.

I have to be closely monitored by the maternity hospital, due to my diabetes, but so far everything is hunky dory.
I know I'll have to take it much easier once I'm passed the six month mark, but by then I'll no doubt be ready for a rest.

And once the baby arrives, it'll be a new kind of madness entirely. Which I'm thoroughly looking forward to.
There are no words to describe how excited and happy I am.

Brett will be a wonderful father, and there isn't a day that goes by when I don't thank my lucky stars that Mark 'broke my heart' which in turn led to me taking that fateful trip to London.

At that time I didn't ever want to love someone again, but from the first moment Brett smiled at me, I blew it.
It didn't take long before I realised I wanted him to be a permanent part of my world.

Actually, who am I trying to kid?

He is my world.

I chose to take every step along the way, walking hand-in-hand with him.
He is the love of my life.
Because of him I believe in fate and destiny.
And regardless of the difficult times we've been through, I don't regret a single second of it. It's been one hell of a roller coaster, and with Brett by my side, the ride always will be well worth it.
I wouldn't want to navigate this bumpy track which we call life with anyone else.

In any lifetime in fact, in any version of reality......I'd chose him.

                                    ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ The End    ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫