Page 4 of When We Were Young

It was Will’s round, and he was trying to remember what his mate, Matty, was drinking when the girl behind the bar asked, ‘What can I get you?’

He did a double take. There, standing before him with raised eyebrows, was the arty girl from the station.

It had been weeks since he’d had to stop busking there, and he’d given up on ever seeing her again.

‘Two bottles of Bud, please,’ came a voice from his left. He was too late; she went off to fetch the drinks and by the time she came back, her colleague had already taken his order.

She caught him looking at her and asked, ‘Are you being served?’

‘Er, yes, thanks.’

She nodded and moved on. Shit . He watched her back as she scooped ice into a glass, reached up to the optics and poured a shot.

She turned and stood right in front of him, topping it up with the soda gun.

A strand of dark, wavy hair escaped from her ponytail and dangled onto her cheek.

She was close enough for him to see a smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

He should say something now he had the chance: tell her he’d seen her at the station, ask about her art.

But every sentence he constructed in his head made him sound like a stalker.

Even when all eight drinks were paid for and sitting on a tray in front of him, he still had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He took the tray back to his friends’ table and handed out the drinks.

They were only three rounds in, but they were already getting loud, all talking over each other.

Will didn’t sit back in the same seat; he chose one with a view of the bar instead.

He took a sip of beer to swallow his frustration and vowed to go back up there when he had something less creepy to say.

‘Guys, did I tell you my little brother here got arrested?’ said Aidan, pulling him close and grinding his knuckles into Will’s head.

‘No! What did you do, Will?’ asked Rob.

Aidan butted in before he could answer, ‘What do you reckon? Drug dealing? Stealing cars?’

Will gave his brother a sarcastic smile.

‘Well, what was it?’ asked Rob.

‘Busking!’ Aidan was practically incontinent with laughter. ‘Can you believe it? They held him at the police station for six hours .’

‘Ah mate, that’s rough,’ said Rob, while the others jeered.

Will stole another look at the girl. She was making her way back behind the bar, having collected a tower of dirty pint glasses. Aidan leant in to see what Will was looking at, then eyed him with a knowing smile.

Suddenly, Aidan was on his feet. ‘Will, you’re so tight. Why didn’t you get any crisps? Anyone want crisps?’

Everyone wanted crisps except Will, who watched his handsome, charming, older brother stalk confidently to the bar. She didn’t stand a chance.

‘Have you contacted any record companies yet?’ asked Rob.

‘What? No!’

‘Why not?’

‘We don’t have any decent songs for a start.’ Will shifted to his right to get a better view of Aidan chatting to the girl.

‘“Random Anthem” is brilliant, so is “Wandering” and everybody loves “Fever”,’ said Rob. ‘Have you recorded anything yet?’

‘We did a crappy demo of “Wandering” ages ago.’

Matty slipped into the seat Aidan had vacated. ‘It wasn’t crappy!’

‘You need to get a demo recorded and send it out to record companies,’ said Rob.

‘That’s exactly what I’ve been saying!’ Matty’s eyelids were heavy. He was getting pissed.

Will sighed. ‘Demos cost money, Matty.’

‘Good job you’ve got some travelling money left…’ Matty clinked his pint glass to Will’s with a wink.

‘Not much…’ The girl was tipping her head back in laughter at whatever Aidan was saying.

‘Listen,’ said Matty. ‘I’ll ask my mum to lend me money and we’ll see what we can get off Mitch––’

‘You must be joking!’ cried Will. Their drummer was tight as arseholes.

‘Hear me out.’ Matty sat forward in his seat, excited now. ‘Let’s record those three songs, I’ll send out some tapes, make a few calls, get us some decent gigs. What do you say?’

Will thought for a moment. ‘Could we get the Mean Fiddler?’

‘You want the Mean Fiddler? I’ll get you the Mean Fiddler!’ Matty slammed his hand on the table. ‘But only with a decent demo.’

‘Okay – let’s do it.’

Aidan returned from the bar then, dropping an armful of crisp packets onto the table.

‘Look what I’ve got.’ He waved a strip of paper in Will’s face, with a smug grin.

Will snatched it and looked closer. It was a till receipt and written on the back in neat handwriting was the word ‘Emily’ and a telephone number.