Page 143 of When We Were Young

‘It means I go to his parents’ house, to their garage, and I sort through all his stuff, I log it on a spreadsheet.’ She speaks slowly. Gently. ‘I photograph it and put it on his website and store the stuff properly and “archive” it.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

Liv eyes me, concern etched on her brow. ‘His notebooks, lyrics, and photographs. I go through it, find the stuff fans would be interested in and I put it on the website.’

‘He has a website?’

‘Yes, but I’m working on a new one. It’s not ready yet, but it will be soon.’

I have no words. I can’t compute this. Will’s stuff is there in his parents’ garage. His family has let a stranger, a sixteen-year-old girl, rifle through his things, and they’re putting it on the fucking internet.

How I wish I had more of his things. I kept his t-shirt from the day he left to go on tour with Paradigm, the letters he sent from America, a small box of Christmas and birthday gifts, but it wasn’t enough. How I clung to those few objects. ‘They wouldn’t let me have any of his things. They wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral. Do they know who you are?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do they know you’re my daughter?’

‘No. There’s been no reason to mention who my mum is.’

‘They wouldn’t let you in there if they knew.’ My mind’s spinning. ‘I asked you to stop snooping. You said you would drop it. Youpromisedme.’ I’m shaking. ‘You didn’t stop – all the while you were going through his private things behind my back…’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’ She rests her hand on my forearm. ‘Iwasworking forAmplify, just not at the office. We met Will’s family when we were researching an article. They had all his stuff in flight cases and none of them could bring themselves to go through it. I offered to help. I knew you wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t want someone else to do it.Iwanted to do it.’

I’m too tired to argue. ‘We need to know where you are, Liv. We’ve talked about this.’

‘Mum, I’m working hard on this.’ She shifts forward, the cake wobbling on her lap. ‘I’m doing it as a fan. I love his work, the words he wrote, the music. So do thousands ofothers. People will find this stuff fascinating. There won’t be any more songs. This gives his fans a bit more… of him.’

People want more of Will, of course they do. They did, even when he was alive. They couldn’t get enough of him.

Even when he had nothing left to give.

The clock on the dashboard says 5:40 p.m.

‘We don’t have time for this,’ I say and turn the key in the ignition.

We are silent on the drive home. I’m exhausted from pretending to be happy for the last few hours, from trying not to ruin my father’s birthday, from pretending everything’s normal with Liv. As I drive, all I can think of is her in Will’s garage going through his things. What has she seen there? And what is she putting on the internet for the world to see? My own daughter.

I pull up outside the house and march up the path. Liv follows me to the kitchen. I go straight to the fridge, but there’s no wine. Aware of Liv hovering in my peripheral vision, I go through the cupboards until I find some gin. As I put the bottle on the counter, I glance over. Her face is all screwed up.

‘Liv?’

She bursts into tears, and it takes me completely by surprise. She’s never been one to turn on the waterworks. Being an only child meant she never had to cry to get her way.

‘What’s the matter?’ I go to her and touch her arm.

‘I’ve messed everything up.Amplifyfired me and now I’m going to lose the archive too.’

I put my arm around her. ‘You got fired? What happened?’

Between sobs, she tells me she got Brett Lewis to agree to an interview at Beatland and how she wrote a series of articles hoping to persuadeAmplifyto run a special for the twentieth anniversary ofFragments. I’m furious and proud in equal measure.

‘I didn’t realise it meant that much to you.’

‘It meanseverything.’

Her big blue eyes are wet with tears, reminding me of that little girl I miss, the one who relied on me to fix her scraped knee or chase away a nightmare.

Motherly instinct is fighting with the anger that’s been simmering inside me all day.