Page 9 of When We Were Young

‘Why not?’

‘Well, he died, she was upset – she doesn’t like talking about it.’

‘Was she a groupie?’

‘Agroupie?’ He scrunches his nose. ‘No!’

‘Were they boyfriend and girlfriend?’

‘They were friends.’ He blows upwards to cool his sweaty forehead. ‘Wow, this is spicy.’ Then he changes the subject. ‘Have you thought any more about work experience?’

‘Not really.’ That’s not exactly true – I’ve been stressing about it because I can’t decide what to do. Chloe’s doing hers with her dad because she’s always wanted to be a solicitor like her parents, but I think they’ve brainwashed her.

I almost wish my parents were pushy like Chloe’s; at least then I’d have a plan. All I know is I don’t want a boring job in a school like Mum, and I can’t even draw a decent stick man so being a designer like Dad is out.

‘Remember, Tom offered for you to do it atLuminaire.’

Dad’s friend Tom works atLuminairemagazine. He says they play table football all day and everyone gets free pizza on Fridays. It sounds cool but what do I know about magazines? And what’s alifestylemagazine anyway?

‘Come on, you’ll love it,’ says Dad. ‘It’s only a fortnight.’

I sigh. ‘Oh, all right then.’ I wish it was a music magazine. Nowthatwould be cool.

‘I’ll text him now.’ Dad taps away at his phone then puts it on the table. We go back to shovelling food in our mouths.

I’m trying to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Will Bailey, when Dad’s phone buzzes.

‘Tom says he’d be delighted to have you for work experience. There you go, all sorted.’

Oh God, what have I let myself in for? I’m rubbish at table football.

Dad checks his watch. ‘We’d better get going, or we’ll miss the trailers.’

He pays the bill, and we head out into the cinema complex.

Inside the auditorium, the lights go down as we take our seats. He takes a handful of Maltesers and passes me the bag.

I lean in and whisper, ‘Do you know how Will Bailey died?’

Dad shifts in his seat. ‘I know he took his own life, but I don’t know the details.’

A chill ripples through me. ‘He took his own life?’

‘Yeah… such a waste…’

‘But why?’

The trailers start, music blaring. In the flickering light, Dad pops a Malteser into his mouth and shrugs.

Chapter 6

July 1994

Will’s mum gave him a stern look as he took his seat. Aidan and his dad were already tucking in to the steaming pot of chilli at the centre of the dining table.

‘What kept you?’ she scolded.

‘I just got off the phone with Matty,’ said Will. ‘He’s got us a gig at the Mean Fiddler.’