Page 41 of When We Were Young

Will met Emily for lunch at a little sandwich shop in Covent Garden. He’d been shopping with Matty and Reu, spending his clothing allowance. Emily made a face when she saw what he’d bought.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Nothing.’

‘That face isn’t saying “nothing”. It’s saying “you’ve spent two hundred quid on a load of crap”. What’s wrong with it?’ he asked, folding a checked flannel shirt, and dropping it back in the bag.

‘I thought the money was for “stage clothes”.’ She put the last of her sandwich in her mouth.

‘It was. This is what I wear on stage.’

‘But you’re a signed artist now, supporting Paradigm on their tour with the opportunity to expand your fan base.’

He blew out an exaggerated huff. ‘I don’t care about all that.’

‘What do you care about?’

‘I care about the music.’

‘And you don’t want to catch the eye of a Paradigm fan who might not bother to listen to your set? Before you even open your mouth, they’ll decide if they want to listen to you or go to the bar.’

He shrugged. ‘True.’

‘How much have you got left?’

‘Seventy-five.’

‘Give it to me.’ She held out her hand. ‘Do you want to come with me, or do you want to look at guitars?’

‘I want to look at guitars.’

She kissed him and disappeared with the money.

A few hours later, they met at her place, Will lugging a guitar case, and Emily carrying a scrappy shopping bag.

He opened the case, revealing his brand-new Butterscotch Blonde Fender Telecaster.

He was desperate to play it, but sensed she didn’t want to spend one of their last evenings together watching him tinker with it.

She made the right noises, and he tucked it back in the case like a sleeping child.

‘I went to a couple of charity shops near college.’ She dipped into her bag. ‘They’ve always got original sixties stuff.’

She pulled out a tuxedo jacket, her eyebrows raised. The lapels were black, but the rest of it was a dark rust colour shot through with gold thread. The jacket was cool, but he couldn’t see himself wearing anything like that.

‘What do you think?’ she asked.

Matty and Reu would take the piss out of him if he wore it.

‘Try it on,’ she said.

‘What, over this?’ He was wearing a black t-shirt.

‘Yes.’

He got a musty whiff as he wafted it around to slip his arm in. ‘It stinks.’

‘We’ll get it dry cleaned.’

She ruffled his hair and stood back to get the full view. She was pleased with her purchase.

‘Hold on, I’ll get Scott’s Polaroid camera.’ While she was out of the room, he checked himself out in the mirror on the back of her door. Surprisingly, he didn’t look like a complete knob. He looked like a musician.

When she came back with the camera, she adjusted the way he stood and barked ‘chin down!’ before taking the shot. They lay on the bed watching the bleached-out, ghostly image appear. When it did, it looked like an album cover.

‘See?’ she said. ‘You look like a rock star.’

She pulled him in for a kiss.

‘You don’t smell like one, though,’ she said. ‘Take it off!’

He didn’t need to be told twice.

This wasn’t how he imagined spending the last few days before leaving to go on tour.

He’d imagined spending them with Emily. Specifically, in bed with Emily, but he was spending every waking hour – and some he should be sleeping – in a deconsecrated church in Islington.

The record company decided at the last minute to cut an EP before they left for America.

Apparently, it was possible to record four songs in five days but, having never set foot in a proper recording studio before, Will was sceptical.

Thank God he’d moved out of the flat with Alan and stored his stuff in his parents’ garage.

He was already packed and living out of a suitcase at Emily’s.

The sooner he got the tracks down, the sooner he could get back to her, but the sessions didn’t go well.

He could barely stay awake at the end of each long day.

The producer was a condescending wanker who didn’t hide his frustration with their inexperience.

His attitude only improved when they recorded Will’s vocals, and he realised it wasn’t a complete waste of time.

The last day was the longest – they finished the last track at 1 a.m.

Emily had turned out the light to go to sleep but lay awake in the dark. She’d left her key in the usual spot under a rock in the flower bed by the front door. At last, she heard it turning in the lock and Will closing the door behind himself.

Opening her bedroom door, he whispered, ‘Milly?’

‘I’m awake.’ She switched on the bedside light.

He gave her a kiss and sat on the bed beside her.

‘How does it sound?’ she asked.

‘Brilliant. I’d play it to you, but if I hear it one more time, I’ll scream. I’ll leave a tape for you to listen to… tomorrow.’ He didn’t say after I’ve gone . ‘I need a shower.’

When he got back from the bathroom, he slipped into the bed, his body still a little wet.

That last time was slow, how she liked it. Damp and a little sad, the occasional icy drip from his hair surprisingly pleasurable.

She expected him to fall straight to sleep afterwards – he must have been exhausted, but she could tell he was awake from his breathing.

‘You could fly out and meet us at some point,’ he suggested after a while.

‘Maybe at the end of term.’ She was reluctant to make plans. He might change his mind once he was on tour.

‘When’s that?’

‘End of June. Where will you be then?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll find out and get tickets organised.’

They lay in silence.

‘I don’t want you to be sad about leaving,’ she said. ‘I want you to be excited about this adventure.’

‘I am.’

‘Good. Let’s get some sleep.’

She turned on her side and it was a little while before he curled his body behind hers as he usually did.

Would this be the last time they shared a bed? Would she ever see him again? She wasn’t being dramatic – it was a distinct possibility. His life was changing, and she wasn’t sure there would be a place for her in it. And he would be different – she might not like the person he became.

She didn’t want him to make promises he couldn’t keep.

Over the last few weeks, every time she thought he might say something he would later regret, she changed the subject.

She knew it was pissing him off. He thought she was indifferent to him leaving, but she couldn’t help it. It was a kind of survival mechanism.

She was still awake when the birds started singing and she knew he was, too.

A car came for him early. A ‘car’ being a cab you didn’t have to call or pay for. Something he was already getting used to. They had agreed she wouldn’t go to the airport. He took his suitcase down to the car and she sat on the bed, waiting for him to come back up to say goodbye.

He was gone for ages. She thought maybe he’d left without saying goodbye because it was too hard or because he thought she didn’t care, but at last he came back in.

She went to him. He pulled her in close and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his neck and squeezed him. She tried to commit the feel of him to memory, the smell of him, how it felt to be held by him. Her throat ached.

They stood like that for a long time.

She felt him swallow. There was a weird tension in his body, like he was holding his breath. When she pulled away, his eyes were wet.

‘Don’t…’ She kissed his tears, sobbing herself now.

‘I’ve waited longer than five months for you before,’ he whispered.

She laughed. ‘You did. And this time I’ll be waiting for you, too.’

He wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘I know.’

‘Have a wonderful adventure. Then come home and tell me all about it.’

‘I will. I’ll call you.’

‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something for you.’

She went to the bedside table and took a Polaroid out of the drawer and handed it to him. It was a picture he took of her the other night. She was wearing the tuxedo jacket she’d bought him. And nothing else. It was sexy, but tasteful.

‘So you don’t forget me,’ she added.

‘No fear of that.’ He scooped up the t-shirt she had worn in bed the night before. ‘Can I take this, too?’

‘Sure – I hope it smells okay.’

He buried his face in it. ‘It smells of you.’

‘I already stole one of yours.’

A horn sounded.

‘You’d better go. I’ll come down with you.’

He picked up his guitar case, and they went down to the street.

‘I love you,’ she said into his neck when they hugged.

‘I love you, too.’

He got in the car and raised a hand at the window as it pulled away.

She raised hers back and watched the car travel down the street until the brake lights flared and it turned out of sight.