Page 92 of Musical Games
‘I want…’ He looked desperately unhappy. ‘I want—’
‘Your mum to wait on you hand and foot? Gymnastics twice a week? No drama? No inconvenience? Nothing that might take you out of your comfort zone?’
‘That’s not true—’
‘You want a wee wifey. But maybe even that’s too much like hard work.’
‘And what do you want?’ He pointed back up the corridor. ‘Is that what you really want?’
‘Yes, of course it is. What else would I want?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m leaving. Do you want me to stay to help you get out of the building?’
‘I’m not a fucking invalid, Jamie. I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help.’
‘Are you going to stay here now?’
Everything inside her stretched apart. She nodded, her jaw so tight she could no longer speak.
He sighed. ‘I’ll drop the spare set of keys through your front door.’
‘You’re not really leaving?’
He nodded. He looked broken.
‘But what about the soap awards tomorrow? Don’t you want to stay for them?’
He shook his head and turned, walking away from her down the corridor. She wavered, her hands in fists by her sides, then headed back to the room of suits. She was going to sign that deal whether his name was on the contract or not.
By the timeshe got back to the flat, Jamie had already left. He’d done the dishes, made the bed and left a note on the kitchen table.
I hope it worked out for you. I’m sorry to let you down. Thank you for letting me stay and helping me get through the recording. Jamie.
She sat, her breath heaving in and out. She’d held it together until getting home, hoping he was still here. But he’d left. He’d rejected both her and a possible future making music together. The record label had made it clear it was a package deal. Without Jamie, she had nothing. Tears were seconds away. She needed Zoe.
The call went straight to voicemail. Could she ring her mum? Esther? Anna?No.In desperation, she rang Crystal.
‘Hey, Sam, how did the meeting go?’
‘Is Brad there? Could I speak to him?’ She could hear her voice wavering, the shudders starting to move through her.
‘Yes, of course.’
There was a pause.
‘Babe! How’s it going?’
The dam burst and wracking sobs burst out of her, so all-encompassing she could hardly breathe.
‘Babe! Babe! Don’t cry! Whatever’s wrong, Brad’ll fix it. And if I can’t, then Oprah can. Hang in there, babe. We’ve got you.’
26
Jamie didn’t bother trying to change his flight. He made his way to King’s Cross and took the train north. He’d taken his bags and his guitar but left his heart with Sam. He kept putting his hand to his chest as if trying to patch over the gaping hole. The pain was unbearable. As if salt was being rubbed into his bare flesh with sandpaper. He wondered if this was in any way comparable to what his mother had gone through when pregnant with him and his father had suddenly died. He felt a new level of empathy for what she had experienced and an awareness of the stress hormones she would have inadvertently transferred to him in the womb.
How different would he have been if his father hadn’t died? Would he have stayed in Kinloch? Would he have had a family? Would he have signed the contract with Sam?
Before Sam had come into his life, he’d worried he might spend his life alone. But now, he knew with utter certainty he would. Sam was one of a kind. His one grain of sand on an endless beach. His perfect snowflake. No one could ever compare to her.
