He wanted to believe her.
They lay on their backs, gazing at the sky through the branches of the willow. He closed his eyes to the sun as it came out from behind a cloud and watched the dappled red on the inside of his eyelids. Everything went dark, and her lips were on his. She was here now. Everything would be okay.
Matty and Reu were playing frisbee on the grass in front of the studio when he got back.
‘What kept you?’ called Reu.
‘We all know what he’s been up to,’ cried Matty. ‘Look at the smile on his face.’
‘He’s much more relaxed, isn’t he?’ said Reu.
‘Yeah, reallyrelaxed.’
‘Shut up, you two.’
When Emily came into the studio later, he was far from relaxed. The song they were working on was terrible. He didn’t want her to hear it. So, as she sat in the corner writing her dissertation, he got the guys to work on something else. She looked up, caught his eye, smiled, and went back to it. It helped she wasn’t watching, but it kind of annoyed him she could get on with her work when he was stuck with his.
That night, Emily woke to find Will’s side of the bed empty. Her watch said 2:45 a.m. She pulled on a jumper and boots and went to look for him. The coach house was dark and deserted, but dim lights shone in the building across the courtyard.She jogged over and followed the sound of music down the corridor. In a rehearsal room at the end, she found Will strumming an acoustic guitar and singing softly. She paused in the doorway and watched him scribble in his notebook. Just as she was about to speak, he ripped out the page, screwed it up, and threw it across the room.
‘Hey…’ she said gently.
He whipped around in his seat. ‘Jesus!’
‘Sorry.’
She went to him. He moved the guitar out of the way and pulled her onto his lap.
‘Oh God, it’s such a cliché,’ he whispered as she wrapped her arms around him.
‘It’s a cliché because it happens a lot. Everyone who’s ever been lucky enough to be in this situation finds it difficult. It’s hard, but it’s not impossible. Why not go back to what made you want to make music in the first place? Listen to your old favourites. Or listen to what other people are doing. For inspiration. It will trickle down through your filter and come out as yours.’
‘Hmm…’ She felt the vibration of the non-committal sound in his throat.
‘If it’s not happening tonight, try again tomorrow. Come back to bed.’
It was six weeks before Emily could make it back to Wales for another weekend. When she arrived, Will was alone in the rehearsal room. He was tanned but looked tired and a little thin. He said he was finishing up and sent her off to join Matty and Reu at the pub in the village, promising to follow shortly.
At the pub, Reu was busy thrashing the locals at pool while Matty looked on, bored.
Emily bought a round of drinks and sat with Matty.
‘How’s Will doing?’ she asked.
‘He’s pretty stressed out. I think he’s lost his mojo.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve been here months and we’ve got nothing to show for it.Ilike what he’s writing, but you know what he’s like; he’s a perfectionist, and he’s being hard on himself.’
‘How can we help him?’
Matty thought for a minute. ‘You should split up with him, then he’ll be all heartbroken and write more brilliant songs.’
Emily bristled. ‘What?’
‘I’m only messing with you.’
‘No, you’re not.’