‘You’re working in a care home?’ Gloria sipped at her drink. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’
‘Why not?’ Elizabeth shrugged. ‘It’s good, honest work and I really can’t afford to be picky.’
‘Still, it’s a bit of a comedown from backing singer.’ Gloria waved at Brian, who was at the bar, fetching more drinks.
The Jolly Rambler was busy for a Wednesday evening. The three of them had just managed to nab a table underneath the stairs. Elizabeth drained her wine and banged the glass down. ‘That role was never going to be permanent.’
‘But you only played one festival. Weren’t you contracted for a UK tour?’
‘I was… now I’m not.’
Elizabeth swallowed a nervous lump. Gloria was right, she was supposed to be singing at Southend-On-Sea’s festival in the park and then a whirlwind three-m
