I Was Born for This(81)

‘Come on!’ he says to the two of us. ‘Let’s jam.’

Rowan looks down at the old guitar. Compared to the top-of-the-range bass guitars he usually plays now, this thing looks like it was found in an alleyway. Nevertheless, he picks it up and sits down on a chair, strumming at it. We all wince upon hearing how out of tune it is, and without saying anything, Rowan starts tuning it, humming the correct notes to himself until the strings match him.

‘Jim,’ says Lister, looking at me now. He points at the two keyboards. ‘Plug those in!’

I hesitate for a moment, but then I wander over to the two keyboards. They’re each on their own stand, but one is slightly higher than the other. What I used to do was set each of them to play different sounds, then I’d play both of them during our songs. It created quite a cool effect, and I didn’t really know anything about Launchpads or MIDI controllers or sequencers or any software stuff, really. That came later.

I plug the keyboards in and switch them on. I’m surprised they even still work, being out here in the garage for over five years.

Lister starts playing a simple beat, nodding his head in time. I quickly realise he’s playing the version of ‘Happy Birthday’ we came up with all those years ago. Rowan raises his eyebrows but quickly catches on and starts playing the chords. They don’t sound quite as cool on an acoustic rather than an electric, but still, it’s not too bad.

I turn to the keys. I pick my two old favourite sounds, ‘Soft Electric Guitar’ and ‘Bass Synth’. The notes come to me seemingly out of nowhere. I hadn’t even realised I’d stored this silly song we made up in my brain.

‘It’s Jimmy’s birthday,’ I sing before I realise what I’m doing. I shoot my head up, embarrassed.

Lister is grinning widely. Rowan still has his eyebrows raised, but he’s smiling at me in the corner of his mouth, strumming away the chord sequence.

‘Erm,’ I say. ‘Am I going to have to sing “Happy Birthday” to myself?’

‘No, you are fucking not, Jimmy Kaga-Ricci,’ says Lister, and turns his drum beat into a run, and with a shout of ‘FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT,’ we explode into music. We all start singing at once, remembering the stupid variation of ‘Happy Birthday’ we came up with.

‘It’s Jimmy’s birthday

The birthday man

It’s fourteen years

Since his life began’

And soon I’m pretty sure Lister is just making up a load of little drum runs in the middle, things he hadn’t been able to do before, and then he’s pointing at Rowan and Rowan’s making up a guitar solo on the spot, it sounding weird and out of place but somehow so good on the acoustic guitar, and then Lister is pointing at me with one drumstick and I’m just playing the keys, and Lister is shouting at the top of his lungs,

‘Happy birthday, Jim

Happy birthday, my guy

Love from Lister and Ro

Your best pals till we die’

And we all laugh at what a terrible rhythm the lyrics are and I forget everything that’s been happening and we just play together, like kids, in a garage, at a birthday party.

When we step out of the garage, God knows how long later, Grandad is sitting in the lounge, sipping a cup of tea.

Opposite him on the sofa is Angel. She is, for some reason, soaking wet, and has a towel wrapped round her.

And next to Angel is Bliss Lai.





Rowan’s expression drops from a warm smile to shock as he enters the room and sees Bliss.

‘What are you doing here?’ he says, almost choking on his words. ‘I mean, what – Why—’

‘You told me you were here,’ said Bliss, shrugging. ‘So I thought I’d join the party. You might wanna tell Cecily to notify the press that Jimmy’s safe, by the way. They all seem to think he’s having a Britney Spears-style breakdown.’

There’s a horrible silence.

‘Why haven’t you been –’ Rowan stops mid-sentence, swallowing.

Piero sighs. ‘Okay. Kids, why don’t we give Rowan and Bliss a bit of space for a few minutes, eh?’

Lister races out of the room before Piero finishes speaking. Jimmy shuffles nervously from foot to foot, before Rowan gives him a nod, and then he leaves. I glance at Bliss. The friendly, jokey smile I came to know earlier this week is completely absent. Instead, she looks like she’s just rolled up to a funeral.

I stand up and leave the room too.

Everyone apart from Jimmy has gone into the kitchen. He’s just leaning there against the hallway wall, empty-eyed and alone. He glances up at me when I appear.

‘Hey,’ he says.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘Have you been crying?’ he asks.

‘Who hasn’t?’ I say.

‘Fair.’

‘Mm.’

I lean against the wall opposite him.

‘You know, you can go home any time,’ he says, trying to smile at me. ‘I’m not … I mean … I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay for me.’

He’s right. I should go soon.

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’ll go soon.’

‘Why are you here?’ Rowan’s voice. We can hear them clearly through the thin walls of the cottage and the open door.