‘That’s not true,’ says Lowell, cheerfully allowing her to slosh the cheap fizz into his empty glass and smiling despite himself. ‘You were very, very good on Eighties song lyrics.’
‘I was rather,’ agreed Janey, a little carried away. ‘I used to memorise them all fromSmashHits.’
Lowell grins again. ‘I couldn’t even read that text these days,’ he says. ‘Didn’t they used to print in white on top of photographs?’
‘I didn’t have you down as aSmash Hitsfan,’ Janey says, looking at his slightly shabby waxed jacket.
‘I wasn’t,’ says Lowell. ‘I was definitely anNMEkid. Although I had never heard of any of the bands.’
‘I was scared of theNME,’ Janey finds herself confessing. ‘They were so mean to everyone. And the bands were all called things like “Scraping Babies Out of the Abyss”.’
‘I think I saw Scraping Babies Out of the Abyss at Caithness Pleasure Gardens,’ he says. ‘They weren’t as good as Super Big Nuclear War or the I Hate Thatchers.’
She laughs immediately.
‘I did love music then, though.’ Lowell is warming to his subject. ‘God. Once I went to Glasgow and I bought an album from Fopp and I kept that plastic bag – I took it everywhere with me, until it was falling apart. So people would think that I was in Fopp every weekend when I lived in Thurso.’
Janey shakes her head. ‘Don’t start me!’ she says. ‘I amfuriousabout the vinyl revival. You know Fopp is back?’
‘Is it?’ says Lowell. ‘I think I still have the bag.’
‘I genuinely can’t believe I got rid of all my vinyl. I can’t believe it. My daughter wanted arecord playerlast Christmas. There’s even an HMV in Edinburgh.’
Lowell shakes his head. ‘Wow. I am behind the times. Or so far ahead of them I have no idea what’s going on.’
‘And,’ says Janey, ‘having basically given away all my albums to a jumble sale, I thought, oh maybe I’ll just buyHounds of Loveagain.’
He smiles. ‘All the girls I used to fancy at school had that album.’
‘That is not true, because all of us girls who had that album never got asked out one single time. The boys were busy asking out the girls who had Def Leppard albums.’
‘I’m not saying I had the courage to ask any of them out.’
She grins.‘Anyway, I took it up to the cash desk . . . you won’t believe this.’
‘Go on,’ says Lowell, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Everything isso expensive.’
‘It cost thirty pounds.’
‘No way!’
‘I thought six pounds was expensive the first time.’
‘It was.’
‘Not for that album,’ says Janey fiercely. ‘But paying it again really hurt.’
‘But worth it, though?’
‘No!’ says Janey. ‘Because I put it on Essie’s record player and guess what? They’ve remastered them and cleaned them all up. So you don’t get the breaths and the crackles and little noises. It didn’t sound the same at all! It sounded exactly like Spotify!’
‘Almost as if,’ says Lowell, ‘getting older is an endless series of disappointments.’ He looks at her suddenly, then drains his drink. ‘It’s been really nice to meet you.’
‘Janey,’ she supplies.
‘No, I knew that,’ he says. ‘I remember you. You were . . . very kind to us.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t help . . . ’
