I Was Born for This(64)

I properly sit up now, a faint throb of panic sitting in my chest. ‘What are you talking about?’

He frowns. ‘Are you … joking?’

‘No, I’m not fucking joking, Cormac!’ I say, nearly shouting by this point. ‘Please explain what the absolute fuck you are talking about!’

And then he says something earth-shattering.

‘Juliet’s parents kicked her out,’ he says. ‘She’s had a horrible relationship with them for years, but her refusing to do law at uni was, like, the final straw. You know her parents are big-time lawyers, right? And so are her older siblings? So her parents just kicked her out, said she could make her own way. She’s living with her nan permanently right now.’ Mac shakes his head. ‘It’s really fucked her up. You really didn’t know about that?’

No.

No, I didn’t.

‘She’s, like, all alone in the world.’

I get flashes of conversations. Me complaining about my mum to her on the train. Juliet’s expression as I got off the phone with my dad. Her trying to tell me something, again and again and again, but me changing the subject, bringing up The Ark; always, always talking about The Ark instead of anything actually important.

‘Why … didn’t I know that?’ I say, my voice hoarse.

‘Maybe you never asked,’ says Mac, but I’m already standing up, yanking my rucksack open and digging around in there, searching for my phone, because I need to call her. I need to call and tell her I’m sorry and we don’t have to talk about The Ark any more, we can talk about this, she can tell me, God, I’m so sorry— But my hand closes round something else instead.

Jimmy’s knife.





‘Can you just step back a little bit for me, Jimmy? That’s it. Yep, just back a little bit. There we go. Need to make sure you stay in shot in the aerial camera.’

TV studios are always much, much smaller than they look on TV. Much too hot under the lights.

We run through our numbers a couple of times while the sound team adjust microphones and instruments and sound boards and other things I don’t know the name of. We’re performing ‘Joan of Arc’, obviously, and also a cover of ‘All The Things She Said’ by t.A.T.u, which is one of our favourite songs, but in the first sound check I forget the second-verse lyrics, and in the second sound check I get the ‘Joan of Arc’ chord sequence all muddled up. When we’re done, Rowan mouths ‘You okay?’ at me. I never normally get music stuff wrong.

We’re not recording until eleven so there’s time for a short break after the sound checks, when we’re introduced to the host. When we get to our dressing room Lister immediately starts rummaging through the drinks they provided, but when he discovers there’s no alcohol, he just sits down in a chair and doesn’t move.

Rowan and I don’t say anything, but from the look on Rowan’s face, I think he might know what I know. About Lister probably being an alcoholic.

We’ll have to deal with that at some point.

When we have time.

We get called back into the studio half an hour later. Apparently there was some fault with the microphones during the sound check and they need us to do it again.

We play ‘All The Things She Said’ once through, then stand and wait while the sound techs are fiddling about with buttons and wires. I glance to one side at Rowan. He’s spaced out, staring into the air. Holding his guitar like a soldier with a gun against his chest.

He looks worse than he has all week.

Sometimes I look at Rowan and can’t remember what he used to look like. We were in primary school when we met. We were placed next to each other in class and told to learn five facts about the person sitting next to you. All I remember about Rowan’s was that his favourite band was Duran Duran. All he remembers about mine was that I’d never broken a bone.

He had rimless glasses and short tight curls. His jumper was way too big for him. As soon as we both learnt that we each wanted to be in a band we were best friends.

The boy next to me now isn’t anything like that boy. Not bright-eyed and excited to tell me about the new guitar he got for his birthday. Not dragging me to the music block to show me he could play the bassline for a Vaccines song. No laughter. No wonder.

We got what we wanted, in the end, though. Didn’t we?

We wanted to be in a band.

‘Where is Bliss?’ says Rowan, after several minutes of silence. He knows neither of us know. But he’s asking anyway.

Lister starts tapping out a quiet jazz beat on the drums.

‘Rowan,’ he says, which is weird, because he always calls Rowan ‘Ro’. ‘Do you really want to be with Bliss?’

Rowan snaps his head towards Lister, immediately agitated. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘I mean, that you argue. Both of you. All the time.’

Rowan freezes. Then he turns away again.

I start pressing the buttons on my Launchpad in time with Lister’s beat. It isn’t on, so it doesn’t make any sound apart from rhythmic clicks.

‘I do love her,’ he says.

‘So?’ says Lister.

‘I just … wish there was a way for us to be together like normal people,’ says Rowan. ‘Without … you know. All this.’ He gestures around him at the studio. ‘And the new contract.’