I Was Born for This(46)

There’s a pause. What do I say? What should I say?

‘She’s always talked about this special friend that she had on the internet,’ Dorothy continues. ‘But … I’m not actually sure whether that’s him, or whether that’s you.’ She looks at me and smiles sadly. ‘I’m just trying to make sense of it all, you know?’

Aren’t we all.

‘What did she say about them?’ I ask.

‘Just that she finally had someone she loved talking to.’ Dorothy shrugs. ‘J’s been through so much, and she doesn’t like to talk about her problems. She’s always had difficulty making strong friendships. So I was really happy to hear she’d made such a good friend … even if it was just online. Online friendships are real too, aren’t they?’

Been through so much? What does that mean? It feels rude to ask.

‘Absolutely!’ I say.

‘Yes …’ She shakes her head suddenly. ‘Anyway, excuse me, prying into my own granddaughter’s private life through one of her friends!’

‘It’s … it’s fine …’

‘She’s just not the most communicative to me, and I want to be there for her, now more than ever.’

‘Oh …’

Now more than ever?

Dorothy sighs. ‘And of course she had another unpleasant phone call from her parents yesterday morning.’

Unpleasant phone call? Yesterday morning? I heard nothing about that.

‘I’d better go off and get ready for the day.’ She stands up and leaves the room.

I’m still standing there with a tea towel in one hand. I know Juliet isn’t as chatty as I am, but we have talked about serious stuff. What’s Dorothy talking about? Juliet would have told me if something serious had happened. We’re best friends. Aren’t we? Pretty much, anyway.

‘Hi, Dad,’ I say, sitting on Juliet’s bed with my phone against my ear. I won’t be able to call home tonight, as I’ll be at the concert, so I’m calling now.

‘So, today’s the day, hmm?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Are you excited?’

Am I excited? Well, yeah, I guess. But it feels like more than that. I’m excited and scared and hopeful and I think I’m going to cry again at any possible moment, and, God, I think that I might ascend when Jimmy looks me in the eyes.

‘Definitely,’ I tell him.

There’s a pause.

‘What is it you like about this band?’ he asks.

‘I like their music,’ I say.

There’s another pause.

I guess the leavers’ ceremony is happening right now. My classmates will be lining up in the assembly hall, waiting to shake our headteacher’s hand and get a ‘well done’, two words for two years of effort.

‘Are you sure?’ he asks. ‘Is it just because they’re good-looking?’

‘No.’ I bite my lip. ‘It’s more than that, baba.’

‘More?’

‘Just … more.’

‘We don’t understand, Fereshteh. Help us understand.’

‘You … can’t.’

They can’t understand. Some things are impossible to explain.





Pre-show routine is always the same – arrive, sound check, food, meet-and-greet, break, then the show – but I do usually find a way to worry about it anyway. Today isn’t so bad, though, since we’ve performed at the O2 arena seven times before, so I know my way around and there really shouldn’t be any major surprises in store. Hopefully.

We don’t have to wear our nice clothes until the meet-and-greet so all three of us are back in joggers. In the car on the way there, Lister falls asleep on my shoulder, mousy-brown tufts tickling my neck. I flick him on the forehead when he starts to drool on me.

Sound check passes quickly. Playing our songs when the entire audience is empty is always a laugh, because we’re just playing for ourselves, and we can deliberately get stuff wrong and play games like Lister trying to get us out of time and Rowan adding in harmonies where there aren’t normally and me changing the lyrics of our most famous songs.

After that we sit and chill in the dressing room for a while with Cecily and the hair and make-up people and some frantic, nervous O2 employees running in and out, asking us if we need anything every two seconds.

It’s a stuffy room. Very posh of course – this is the O2 – but it’s too hot. I stand up and start walking around, wandering over to the table laden with snacks and drinks, inspecting the artworks on the walls and the potted plants and the giant mirror. One of the walls is adorned by a giant Baroque painting print. Something Christian, definitely. I try to guess which part of the Bible it’s depicting, but I guess my Bible knowledge isn’t good enough, because I’m not sure, and then I feel really bad.

I go and sit next to Rowan, who is having his hair done by Alex at a dressing table.

Rowan looks downcast. He joined in with our silly riffing during sound check and my mini birthday party earlier, but every time the laughing stops his expression drops and he looks like he’s about to cry.

‘You okay?’ I ask.

He flinches, not realising I’d been sitting there. Alex makes an exasperated noise and tells him to sit still.