Page 55 of When We Were Young

By Emily’s last visit, the band had been in Wales for nine long months.

Horizontal driving rain hammered into the windscreen the whole journey, littering the route with accidents and leaving her stationary for long periods.

With her mind free to wander, it kept returning to the same thing – the letter she’d received that morning. The one that left her stomach in knots.

By the time she reached the farm, she was exhausted and her temples throbbed. The dash from the car to the coach house left her drenched. She dumped her dripping coat and bag in the hall and found Matty in the sitting room nursing a bottle of whiskey.

‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.

‘Will’s on a call with the producer and Reu’s gone into the village. Again. He spends half his life in that dive of a pub. Here, have a drink.’ He poured whiskey into a coffee mug and shoved it in her direction.

She sank onto the sofa opposite him. It was the first time they’d been alone together since he suggested she split with Will.

‘How’s the recording going?’ she asked.

He raised the bottle as if making toast. ‘Great!’ She detected more than a hint of sarcasm. He took a long drink straight from the bottle and smacked his lips. ‘How’s the art going?’

‘Fine.’ She ought to leave him to it.

‘How many pictures did you sell at your exhibition, again?’

Emily lifted an eyebrow. Matty had never shown any interest in her work before. ‘Quite a few of the smaller pieces sold. There were four big ones; I think the gallery overpriced them, but one of them still sold.’

‘Was that the one Will bought? The cover art for Yellow Feathers ?’

She stared at him. ‘What?’

Matty waved a hand. ‘Nothing. Ignore me. I’m thinking of something else.’

‘Matty, did Will buy the Yellow Feathers artwork?’

‘No!’ He shifted forward, eyes wide. ‘Jesus, I don’t know why I said that.’

Her mind whirled. ‘How would you know about it otherwise?’

‘Oh shit.’ He scratched at his stubble. ‘Don’t tell him I told you.’

If Will had bought it, why hadn’t he told her and where the hell was it?

He didn’t even have anywhere to live. From the moment she won the competition, she’d thought there must have been a mistake.

At every stage of the process, she’d been convinced they’d change their minds.

The fact her boyfriend had bought the biggest piece only reinforced the imposter syndrome.

‘Emily, you won’t tell him, will you?’

She realised then what Matty was trying to do. He was stirring to get her to break up with Will. He was clearly sticking to this absurd idea that relationship turmoil would inspire his songwriting.

There was no point in calling Matty out on this. He was in no state to have a sensible conversation. ‘How much longer will he be?’ she snapped.

Matty shrugged. ‘Last time he was on a call with Phil, it lasted an hour.’

Her inner critic began whispering at her shoulder, but she shook it off, remembering the letter in her bag. She was talented. The letter said so.

Just then, a gust of wind howled lashing rain against the windows of the old building. ‘We’re a long way from the California sunshine now!’ he slurred. ‘I bet you wish you were staying at Christie Blackmore’s place in Malibu, not this shithole.’

‘Yeah.’ She was tiring of this conversation. She’d wait for Will up in his room.

‘I’m surprised Christie let you stay there, though,’ he said, before she could get up.

She sighed, ‘Why?’

‘I expect she wanted Will all to herself. She wouldn’t leave him alone in New York.’ He adopted a high-pitched voice: ‘ Ooh Will, sing this duet with me! Ooh Will, come up to my suite and listen to the latest Underdogs song! She wanted him to be her toy boy.’

‘Sounds like you’re jealous.’

‘You’re right – I wouldn’t say no.’ His lecherous smile was almost a sneer. ‘Not sure how Will managed to control himself when he spent the night in her suite that time.’

Her chest tightened. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Didn’t he tell you?’

‘Tell me what, exactly?’

‘I’m sure it was quite innocent. Obviously, he’s with you and we all know how obsessed he is with you.’

‘Matty, do you think I’m stupid? I know what you’re trying to do.’

‘What?’ His voice was high, overly defensive.

‘Oh, fuck off, Matty!’ She stormed out of the room.

She ran up the stairs to Will’s room, and slamming the door behind her, she dropped onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow.

Matty was drunk, he was trying to split them up, but was there any truth in what he said?

Did Will spend the night in Christie Blackmore’s suite?

And if he did, was there any scenario where that could be innocent?

She turned on her side and drew in a ragged breath.

Emily had always thought it odd that he hadn’t mentioned meeting Christie on any of their calls and he’d acted strangely around her in New York and at Red Rocks.

And what had Matty said about Will buying the biggest piece in her exhibition? How could Will have kept that from her? When it sold, she had been so proud, so validated . Now that was all stripped away. She felt raw.

Angry voices drifted from below, then hurried footsteps pounded on the stairs. The door flung open and Will stood at the foot of the bed, eyes wide with panic. ‘What did Matty say?’

Emily sat up on the bed. ‘You know, because I heard you shouting at him.’

‘He’s hammered––’

‘He said you spent the night with Christie Blackmore.’

Will tensed, his gaze darting around.

Emily’s stomach dropped. ‘So, it’s true.’

He paced around the side of the bed, running a hand through his hair. ‘I can explain.’

Emily’s laugh was hollow.

‘It was nothing. We didn’t even kiss.’

‘What does that mean? What did you do then?’

‘I was drunk. She came on to me. I tried to stop her…’

White heat shot through her. ‘But what? She overpowered you? All eight stone of her?’

‘I didn’t touch her.’

‘But she touched you ?’

Will blinked and swallowed.

‘I see.’ Emily felt sick.

‘I didn’t know what was happening until it was happening.’

‘Oh, come on! Don’t be so na?ve.’

‘I didn’t even enjoy––’ He stopped himself too late.

‘So it doesn’t count?’

‘Ah, I’m not explaining this properly…’ He dropped to his knees, elbows on the bed. ‘I made a mistake. I’m so, so, so sorry. It meant absolutely nothing, and I promise it will never happen again.’

Her eyes burned. ‘This isn’t… this isn’t what I want… this isn’t the kind of relationship I want to be in.’

‘Emily, please…’ He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. ‘It was nothing. It was a mistake. A misunderstanding. I mean, it was Christie Blackmore…’

‘What the fuck does that mean?’

‘Up till then, I’d been one hundred percent faithful to you while Reu and Matty have been…’

‘What? What have they been doing?’

His voice was small. ‘You know what.’

‘I knew you’d end up resenting me.’

‘I don’t resent you. This situation, this lifestyle – it’s not like real life, that’s all I’m saying. If I wanted to play around, I could have. But I didn’t. That’s the difference between Matty and Reu, and me. I didn’t want to because I have you.’

She leapt from the bed. ‘You don’t get brownie points for only being unfaithful once, Will.’

‘That’s not what––’

‘And you don’t have me,’ she said. ‘Not anymore.’

He scrambled to his feet. ‘No. No. No.’

She marched out.

‘Don’t go. Please, let’s talk about this.’

She stopped on the landing and turned to him. ‘You don’t need to say anything else – I think I’ve got it. I should be grateful you weren’t screwing around the whole time you were on tour. And I should let you off because it was Christie Blackmore. And you didn’t even enjoy it. You’ve said enough.’

His footsteps drummed down the stairs behind her, and as she fumbled with her coat, he shuffled in her peripheral vision.

‘I’m so sorry.’ His voice was so serious and laced with regret she couldn’t look at him.

As she moved for the door, he grabbed her wrist.

She whirled around, wrenching it free. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you bought the biggest piece in my collection?’

Will’s mouth fell open.

‘I feel like an idiot,’ she continued, ‘thinking how great I am – people want to buy my work. They want to pay money for these little pieces of my soul. They even want to buy the big pieces. But they don’t do they, Will?’

His eyes were wide and unblinking. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last. ‘I didn’t buy it because I thought no one else would.

I bought it because I love it and I wanted to have it.

I couldn’t bear for it to hang in some city trader arsehole’s apartment and it not mean anything to them. Because it means so much to me.’

‘Where is it then, if it means so much to you?’

He paused. ‘I don’t have anywhere to put it yet––’

‘Where is it, Will?’

He was silent.

‘Where is it?!’ she yelled, making him flinch.

‘It’s in Matty’s mum’s loft,’ he muttered.

‘Oh, thank you!’ her voice was bitter. ‘Thank you for saving it from hanging in some city trader arsehole’s apartment!’

‘You know I don’t have anywhere to live right now… Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted you to feel good. What do you want me to do? How can I make this right?’

‘You can’t make it right.’ She strode to the door and yanked it open.

Rain was still coming down in sheets.

‘You’re not leaving? You can’t drive back now, you just got here.’

She made a dash for the car.

He followed despite the rain. ‘Please don’t go now,’ he said as she struggled with the key in the lock. ‘Wait till the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch.’

She threw her bag onto the passenger seat, climbed in, and slammed the door.

He stood by the window as she started the engine.

The windscreen was already steaming up, so she fired up the blowers.

While she waited for the fog to clear, she glanced at Will, his body hunched against the rain, arms folded, a hand over his mouth, wet hair hanging in his eyes.

He said nothing, but that bedraggled look was pure anguish.

She reversed, turned, and with tears spilling onto her cheeks, drove off, not daring to look in the rear-view mirror.