Page 15 of When We Were Young

‘It’s not about me worrying, it’s about you being safe. I don’t want you getting the bus at this hour on your own.’ My neck smarts as I check over my shoulder before driving off.

‘It’s not that dark yet. It’s no different to me getting the bus after school.’

‘There are fewer people around. And don’t argue with me,’ I say, heat creeping into my voice. ‘The rules are: you tell me where you’re going, and you answer the phone when I ring.’

‘I told you the reception was––’

‘For God’s sake, Liv! Stop answering back!’ I’m exhausted and hungry.

Liv stares out of the window, giving me the silent treatment the whole way home.

Chapter 8

September 1994

Despite giving Mitch a false deadline for the Mean Fiddler gig, he was still late picking them up in his van. When they couldn’t wait any longer, they got going in Matty’s mum’s car. It was a twenty-minute game of Tetris getting both guitars and amps in the back and Reu had to go ahead on the tube. They got caught in traffic, then got lost trying to bypass it and arrived forty minutes late for their sound check.

Reu was waiting in the loading area looking sheepish when they parked.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Will.

‘They wouldn’t let me in.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t have ID.’

Matty sniggered. ‘Okay, don’t worry, we’ll smuggle you in the back way with the gear. Keep your head down.’

Reu carried both guitars, while Matty and Will hefted the amps. They dumped their gear near the stage where a band was doing their sound check. The singer’s voice was a grating screech.

‘Wait here,’ said Will and headed for the sound desk.

He loitered by the sound engineer until there was a break in the racket and said, ‘Sorry we’re late. We’re on first.’

The guy didn’t even look up from the knobs and sliders. ‘You missed your slot, mate.’

Will’s heart sank. ‘Ah, man – come on, we’re only a few minutes late.’

The band struck up again putting an end to the conversation.

What the hell were they going to do? He’d always dreamed of playing this venue and now they were here they might have to turn around and go home again.

Will scanned the place for inspiration, spotted the bar, and had an idea.

‘Do you know what the sound guy drinks?’ he asked the barman.

‘Andy? He drinks Guinness.’

‘Pint of Guinness, then please.’

Will took the pint and waved it in front of Andy. ‘Andy, can you squeeze us in? Please?’

Andy hesitated then accepted the drink. ‘I’ll try to fit you in after this lot, but I’m not promising anything.’

Will waited until Andy had taken a sip. ‘I don’t suppose you have a house drum kit, do you?’

Andy choked mid-swallow. ‘You don’t have a drum kit?’ he asked, wiping his chin.