Page 41 of When We Were Young

He pulls a comedy grimace. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

On the train into London, I check theAmplifyTwitter account. Yesterday, I tweeted asking for requests for the Tracks Decoded feature. There are 363 replies. Tumi squeals when I tell her at the office. She asks me to come up with a shortlist. As I go through them, I notice there are a few requests for Will Bailey’s ‘Fever’ – probably because of the movie trailer, but I put it at the top of the shortlist when I show her.

‘That’s not a bad idea,’ she says. ‘A friend of mine did a special on him a few years ago on the anniversary of his death forMojomagazine. I’ll drop him a message.’

She taps on her phone with lightning thumbs and, as we finish the list of potential songs, Tumi’s phone lights up.

‘MyMojocontact has sent through the details for Will Bailey’s brother. Apparently, there’s an archive of notebooks, letters, and photographs. I’ll call him now.’

I listen as Tumi arranges to view the archive that Friday morning. The moment she hangs up, I ask if I can go with her.

‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I’m not trawling through that lot on my own.’

Back at my desk, I try to concentrate on researching the songs on the Tracks Decoded shortlist, but Chloe keeps messaging because she’s bored at her dad’s office, and I can’t stop thinking about Friday and the chance to look through Will Bailey’s stuff. I wonder if there will be any trace of Mum there.

The next time my phone buzzes it’s not Chloe, it’s Dad. He wants to know where I am. We were supposed to meet downstairs twenty minutes ago. I say bye to Tumi and Paul, and dash out.

It takes ages for the lift to come, and when it does, it stops at every floor. I’d forgotten all about my birthday celebrations. When I said no to a party, Dad suggested dinner and a West End show with him and Mum.

Outside, my parents are chatting away and don’t see me coming. Things have been weird between Mum and me since I moved out. Dad arranged a couple of dinners, but it’s been like making polite conversation with a stranger. We used to be so close, but the last year or so she’s been so frustrating. Not letting me do anything. Always wanting to know where I am. It’s suffocating. Mum spots me, our eyes meet, and she beams at me. For a split second, she looks like the girl in the old photographs, and I’m reminded of her old life as a coolartist with a rock-star boyfriend and it’s so confusing because the woman in front of me couldn’t be further from that. I wish she would talk to me.

‘Happy birthday!’ Mum says in a high-pitched voice.

Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes are sad. She throws her arms around me and squeezes me so tight it hurts my bruised ribs.

Chapter 21

February 1995

Will leapt onto the stage to the loudest applause he’d ever experienced. Reu climbed behind his shiny ‘new’ kit, eager eyes on Will, like a dog waiting to fetch a ball. With a quick nod from Will, Reu clicked his sticks together, counting them into their opening song.

Matty had wangled a support slot at the University of London Union. It was the biggest venue they’d ever played. It could hold up to 800 people, and it looked full already. Will left messages telling Richard Eason from Island Records about the gig, then missed Eason’s return call during a busy delivery shift, but he left a promising voicemail. ‘Thanks for letting me know about the ULU gig. I’m gonna try to make it, but if I can’t, I’ll send someone else along.’

Will scanned the crowd for Eason as he played but couldn’t quite remember what he looked like. A few regulars jostled down at the front, but there were a lot of unfamiliar faces, too. The atmosphere was charged.

The first three songs were upbeat, they went down well and got people moving. Next up was their latest song, ‘Intertwined’. It was a ballad – it could kill the mood, but it was his favourite song at the moment, and he wanted to see what people thought of it.

By the end of the first verse, a few people had gone to the bar, but he still had everyone else. He gave the chorus his all, hoping people would get goosebumps as he had when they’d first played it together in rehearsal. Lost in the music, he shut his eyes and forgot about the audience – and Richard Eason – only opening them to synchronise the final strum with Reu’s last beat.

A cacophony of whoops and cheers erupted behind him, and Reu’s face became one huge, toothy grin.

The rest of the gig passed in a blur. There were no mistakes. Hell, they sounded great, and the crowd was feeling it. They even got an encore.

When they headed to the bar afterwards, Izzy was there with friends. She had said she didn’t want anyone to know they’d been seeing each other, but as soon as she saw him, she threw her arms around him and squealed, ‘Oh my God, you were amazing!’ So much for playing it cool.

She introduced him to her friends. He’d always thought of himself as a musician, but to them, he was just a delivery guy with a hobby. Maybe they were right.

A familiar voice interrupted the conversation. ‘Great gig, mate. You smashed it!’

Will turned to see his brother. ‘Aidan, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to Emily’s private view at her college tonight.’

‘Nah, I couldn’t be bothered with that. I’ve seen the photos. Besides, I can’t stand those art student dudes. They’re full of shit.’

‘How very supportive of you,’ Will muttered.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Will excused himself to get the drinks in.