Page 83 of When We Were Young

‘You don’t mean that…’

‘You’re such a terrible…distraction.’ Her stony expression morphed into a smile. ‘It’ll be worse for me. I’ll be stuck here, bored out of my mind. You’ll forget all about me.’

‘No…’

‘You’ll be surrounded by groupies, going “Emily who?”’

He pulled her into a hug to shut her up.

Even Nigel at work, who was pushing sixty, had heard of Paradigm.

‘I can’t hold your job open for you,’ he said, ‘but get in touch when you’re back and I’ll see what I can do.’

Nigel obviously had high hopes for the longevity of his music career.

Will wouldn’t miss the delivery job, but he was sad to hand back the keys to his van.

He asked his mum if he could pop over. When he arrived, she had arranged a rather formal lunch and Will felt like a guest sitting at the dining table with his parents. Reu wasn’t there. He’d been working as a plumber’s apprentice since he left school in the summer. He rarely worked weekends, but he used it as his excuse to make himself scarce today.

The first thing Will’s dad said was: ‘Are you still…seeingyour brother’s girlfriend?’

He had hesitated at the word ‘seeing’, as though toying with a different verb.

Will sighed. ‘Actually, she’smygirlfriend.’

In hindsight, that might not have been the best way to get him onside. His dad sat there glaring at him, his jaw clenched as his mum handed around a plate of assorted sandwiches cut into neat little triangles.

‘She’s not bloody pregnant, is she?’ he asked.

‘No!’

Dad narrowed his eyes. ‘What have you come to tell us, then?’

‘I wanted to let you know I’ve got a recording contract.’

‘Will! That’s fantastic!’ said his mum.

‘So, you’re jacking in your job?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t, but they want us to go on tour for five months.’

‘What will you do after that?’

‘Hopefully, record an album. Tour some more.’

Dad shook his head, lips pursed. ‘How will you pay your rent?’

‘I’m thinking of moving out of my flat as I’ll be away for so long. I was hoping to leave my stuff here until I get back – there’s not much.’

‘The garage is still full of your stuff, anyway. It won’t make much difference.’

He knew his dad wouldn’t object to this. He hated anyone wasting money.

His mum offered him a slice of pork pie, but he shook his head. ‘Reuben’s not going with you, is he?’ she asked.

‘Well, yeah. He’s the drummer.’

‘He can’t go away for five months!’ cried Dad. ‘What about his apprenticeship?’