Page 5 of When We Were Young

Liv

I’m at the bus stop after school listening to the Will Bailey album for the hundredth time when I get a tap on the shoulder. I turn to see our school tie and crest at eye-level. There’s only one kid that tall and as I lift my chin to confirm it, my whole head ignites with embarrassment.

It’s Nathan Hall.

He hasn’t spoken to me since primary school, and even then, it was only to tell me to move out of the way. I pull out an earphone.

‘What are you listening to?’ he asks.

They’re the most confusing five words I’ve ever heard, and I gawp at him until I come to my senses. ‘Will Bailey. Have you heard of him?’ He shakes his gorgeous blond head. ‘This song’s on the trailer for Nostalgia . It’s all over the TV.’ God, I’m such a nerd.

He points to my dangling earphone, so I hand it to him and skip back to the start, then immediately regret it – this track is six minutes long.

Hyperventilating, I stand rigid beside Nathan for the entire song.

I don’t dare look at him but I’m dying to know if the hairs on the back of his neck are sparking too.

By the time it’s over, I’m about to pass out.

‘Have you heard the new Liars song?’ he asks. When I tell him no, he gestures for my phone. He types something into Spotify and the Liars track rumbles in my ear.

‘It’s good,’ I say, raising my voice over the jangly guitars.

‘If you like this, I’ve got a playlist you might like. We should swap numbers.’

I stop hyperventilating – now I can’t breathe at all.

With The Liars harmonising in our ears, we exchange numbers then stand awkwardly waiting for the song to finish.

Nathan interrupts the middle eight. ‘Here’s my bus.’ He pulls out my earphone and hands it back. ‘You’re coming to Beatland, right?’

‘Huh?’

‘Beatland. Festival. Everyone’s going.’ He jumps on the bus.

My insides are doing somersaults. ‘Er…’

‘Come.’ He flashes a grin as the doors close.

As the bus pulls away, I deflate like a popped balloon.

Because that’s never going to happen.

Dad is waiting for me at our usual spot, leaning against a pillar of the old market building. He’s always early. Sensing me coming, he looks up and beams.

‘Hi Dad.’

‘Hiya, Livster.’ When he wraps his arms around me, he smells of soap and freshly washed clothes. He plants a million kisses on the top of my head with embarrassing sound effects.

‘You’ll ruin my hair,’ I complain.

‘I can’t ruin your hair – it’s perfect.’ He takes my rucksack. ‘Bloody hell, what’ve you got in here? It weighs a ton.’

‘Homework.’

‘Ugh!’ He holds it at arm’s length, like it’s contaminated, then swings it onto his back as we head towards the cinema complex.

‘How are your ribs?’ he asks.

‘Still painful. The doctor said it could last up to six weeks. It’s worse when I laugh, so no comedies tonight.’

‘Okay. Pizza first?’

‘I fancy noodles.’

‘Noodles it is.’

At the restaurant, a waiter takes us to a table near the window and we slide across the long benches opposite each other.

‘How’s your mum?’ he asks, while studying the menu.

‘Her face is healing, and the physio exercises are helping her neck, but she’s been acting weird since the crash.’

He looks up from his menu. ‘Weird how?’

‘I don’t know – distracted? Not herself.’

He considers this. ‘Well, it was a traumatic experience – you’ll both need time to get over it. Keep an eye on her and let me know if you’re still worried.’

‘Okay.’

I take a breath and go to ask him about Will Bailey, but he catches me off guard with: ‘So, how’s your love life?’

He’s not being entirely serious but my cheeks flash with heat as Nathan pops into my head. ‘Non-existent. How’s yours? Are you still seeing Katya?’

‘Sort of.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means sometimes I see Katya, and sometimes I see Lily, or Gretchen, or Camilla.’

He’s making up these names, but he has had a lot of girlfriends. Katya’s the first one to leave a toothbrush in his bathroom, though.

The waiter takes our order and when he’s gone, I ask, ‘Don’t you like Katya anymore?’

‘Honestly? She’s a bit high-maintenance.’

I don’t know what he means but I nod anyway. I’ve only met her a few times – she’s usually leaving when I’m arriving. Everything about her is glamorous – her clothes, hair, and make-up.

‘How old is she again?’ I tease.

‘I’m not sure.’ She’s twenty-eight – Dad is forty.

The food arrives, and we shut up and eat. Well, I do. Dad keeps dropping little clumps of rice before they reach his mouth. I’m a chopsticks expert – Chloe’s dad is Chinese, and I eat at hers all the time. His food is so good.

‘You’re embarrassing me,’ he whispers, giving up and using his fork.

I can’t think of a way to bring up the subject of Will Bailey, so I come right out with it while his mouth is full. ‘Dad, have you heard of Will Bailey?’

He splutters and swallows. ‘Sorry?’

‘Have you heard of Will Bailey?’ I repeat, but I said it clearly the first time.

‘What, the singer?’ He keeps his eyes on his food. ‘Yeah, magnificent voice.’

‘Did you know Mum knew him?’

His eyes dart up and bore into me. ‘How do you know that?’

I knew it! ‘Something she said. Did you know him?’

‘Listen.’ He wipes his mouth with a napkin, places it on the table. ‘Your mum wouldn’t want me talking about this.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, he died, she was upset – she doesn’t like talking about it.’

‘Was she a groupie?’

‘A groupie ?’ He scrunches his nose. ‘No!’

‘Were they boyfriend and girlfriend?’

‘They were friends.’ He blows upwards to cool his sweaty forehead. ‘Wow, this is spicy.’ Then he changes the subject. ‘Have you thought any more about work experience?’

‘Not really.’ That’s not exactly true – I’ve been stressing about it because I can’t decide what to do. Chloe’s doing hers with her dad because she’s always wanted to be a solicitor like her parents, but I think they’ve brainwashed her.

I almost wish my parents were pushy like Chloe’s; at least then I’d have a plan. All I know is I don’t want a boring job in a school like Mum, and I can’t even draw a decent stick man so being a designer like Dad is out.

‘Remember, Tom offered for you to do it at Luminaire .’

Dad’s friend Tom works at Luminaire magazine. He says they play table football all day and everyone gets free pizza on Fridays. It sounds cool but what do I know about magazines? And what’s a lifestyle magazine anyway?

‘Come on, you’ll love it,’ says Dad. ‘It’s only a fortnight.’

I sigh. ‘Oh, all right then.’ I wish it was a music magazine. Now that would be cool.

‘I’ll text him now.’ Dad taps away at his phone then puts it on the table. We go back to shovelling food in our mouths.

I’m trying to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Will Bailey, when Dad’s phone buzzes.

‘Tom says he’d be delighted to have you for work experience. There you go, all sorted.’

Oh God, what have I let myself in for? I’m rubbish at table football.

Dad checks his watch. ‘We’d better get going, or we’ll miss the trailers.’

He pays the bill, and we head out into the cinema complex.

Inside the auditorium, the lights go down as we take our seats. He takes a handful of Maltesers and passes me the bag.

I lean in and whisper, ‘Do you know how Will Bailey died?’

Dad shifts in his seat. ‘I know he took his own life, but I don’t know the details.’

A chill ripples through me. ‘He took his own life?’

‘Yeah… such a waste…’

‘But why?’

The trailers start, music blaring. In the flickering light, Dad pops a Malteser into his mouth and shrugs.