Page 63 of When We Were Young
Liv
When I arrive at Amplify on Tuesday morning, there’s raised voices coming from the meeting room. I can see Paul pacing around above the frosted section of the glass wall. Everyone in the office is engrossed in their work, pretending it’s not happening.
I sit at my desk and carry on researching a Tracks Decoded article. Ten minutes later, the meeting room door opens. Paul strides towards me, shoots me a black look as he passes and carries on out the main door. I let out the breath I’ve been holding.
There’s a murmur around the office.
‘Liv,’ Tumi calls from the meeting room doorway. ‘Can I have a word?’
I scurry over.
‘Shut the door,’ she snaps. ‘Sit down.’
I do as I’m told, hiding my shaking hands under the table.
‘Paul had a call from Christie Blackmore last night,’ she says. ‘She wants to contribute to the Will Bailey feature we’re doing.’
My mind’s racing. I don’t know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut.
‘Paul felt like a fool, not knowing about a feature in his own magazine. Do you know anything about this?’
‘No…’
‘Funny that, because Christie described the “journalist” she spoke to.’ Tumi doesn’t need to use fingers for the air quotes; her voice does the job all by itself. ‘And she sounds a lot like you.’
‘Me?’
‘Come on, Liv, just tell me what happened.’
The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush. ‘I met her at Beatland. Brett Lewis introduced me to her.’
Her eyes widen. ‘And you were with Brett Lewis because…?’
I grimace. ‘I interviewed him.’
‘Hang on,’ Tumi gives a quick shake of her head. ‘Back up, start from the beginning.’
‘You gave me that press pass for Beatland…’
Her eyebrows squish together. ‘Yeah, to have a bit of fun in the VIP area, lounge around on a Bali bed, nab a free drink and a goodie bag, not to interview rock stars!’
‘I know. I got carried away with the whole pretending to be an Amplify journalist thing.’
‘What exactly did you say to him?’
I tell Tumi about the balcony and the champagne and everything I remember about my conversation with him.
When I’m done, she says, ‘Please tell me you recorded the interview?’
‘I got the whole thing on my phone…’
She slumps back in her chair.
‘But it got stolen.’
Tumi sits forward again, her head in her hands. ‘No!’
‘What is it?’
‘Paul’s a massive Paradigm fan. He’s been trying to get an interview with him for years.’
‘Oh.’
She shakes her head as though trying to clear it. ‘Where does Christie Blackmore come into this?’
‘She turned up, and when she heard about the Fragments twentieth anniversary feature, she wanted to contribute.’
‘Hence the call to Paul. But how did you get her to agree to it? She’s notoriously private – never does interviews.’
‘She said she’d get in touch – I didn’t think she actually would.’
Tumi chews her lip.
‘But this is good, right?’ I ask. ‘We’ve got Christie Blackmore interested in doing an interview. If she doesn’t normally do interviews, Paul should be pleased.’
Tumi sighs and shakes her head. ‘He’s angry, Liv. And when he finds out you lost the interview with Brett Lewis, he’ll blow a fuse.’ She pushes her glasses up her nose. ‘So, what’s your obsession with Will Bailey, anyway?’
I pause, deciding whether to tell her the truth.
‘Come on, Liv. Spit it out.’
‘I wanted to find out about my mum.’
She tilts her head to one side. ‘What’s your mum got to do with this?’
‘She was Will Bailey’s girlfriend.’
Tumi forgets to be angry for a moment. ‘So, why not ask her instead of impersonating a journalist and interviewing strangers?’
‘She doesn’t talk about it.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did you speak to any other musicians at Beatland?’
‘Not at Beatland…’
‘Oh God,’ she exhales. ‘Tell me everything.’
Tumi interrogates me for half an hour, sighing and shaking her head the whole time.
She gets up. ‘Wait here.’
I sit fidgeting in the meeting room, feeling sick until she finally comes back. ‘I found Paul upstairs in the café. I tried to explain but…’
‘But what?’ My voice is shaky.
‘He wants you to go, Liv.’
‘Go where?’
‘He said he told you if there was any trouble, you were to go back to Luminaire – whatever that means.’
‘But that was before… when I was doing work experience with school. I’m working here for the summer now… to help with Tracks Decoded.’ My throat’s tight, my voice sounds strangled. Oh God, I’m going to cry.
‘I’m sorry Liv, but I’m in a lot of trouble over this. He’s gone out to a meeting. He wants you gone by the time he gets back.’
‘I’m sorry, Tumi. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.’
She stands, a pained expression on her face. ‘I’ll see you out.’
I follow her to my desk, and she hovers nearby while I gather up my stuff.
We ride the lift in silence. My mind is bursting with things I want to say but my voice won’t work.
I want to tell her about all the articles I’ve been writing in my spare time.
All the work I’ve put in to pitch the Fragments twentieth anniversary feature idea to her.
That’s all been for nothing. She follows me through the barriers.
‘He wants me to take your pass,’ she says softly.
I hand her my lanyard.
‘Keep writing, Liv. You’re good at it.’
‘Bye,’ I squeak, then turn and run through the doors onto the busy street. I let out the sob that’s been jamming up my throat and run all the way to the station with tears pouring down my face.
On Saturday, Mrs Bailey greets me as usual, cheerfully offering tea and biscuits.
I wasn’t sure if Tumi would have been in touch to tell her I’d been fired, but everything seems normal.
I don’t suppose it matters to Amplify if I carry on with the archive.
We agreed Mrs Bailey would give me cash for ‘expenses’ but she usually presses two twenty-pound notes into my hand as I’m leaving each week.
I’m so glad I still have this job to do. Now I’ll no longer be researching Tracks Decoded stories or trying my hand at reviews, it’s all I care about. I’m almost done though. I will be sad when I finish up these last few boxes.
No matter how hard I try to keep busy today, my mind keeps wandering back to getting fired.
Things I wish I’d said to Tumi and Paul keep popping into my head.
I want to call Chloe, tell her all about it, but she’s still not taking my calls and I have to fight back the tears.
I go to put music on to distract me, but when I get my phone out, there are four missed calls and a message from Mum. I’ve had it on silent all day.
Mum: Don’t forget it’s Grandad’s birthday. I need you home by 5pm so we can pick up the cake on the way. Let me know you’ve got this message x.
If I leave in an hour, I should get back in time. I message Mum to let her know, then I go back to choosing music, but all the recent playlists are ones that Nathan sent me.
And that’s it – I’m ugly-crying, cross-legged on the floor of the Bailey’s garage.
Only a few weeks ago, we were kissing; he gave me that necklace. I thought he liked me. I had an awesome summer job I was good at, and a best friend to laugh and joke and share stuff with. But all of that’s gone. I sit there bawling until I remember I need to head back, or Mum will kill me.
The trestle table is a mess of notebooks, boxes, photos, and letters.
I pull myself together, wipe my nose on my sleeve, and start tidying up.
The tape machine is taking up space. I go to put it away, but as I pull the box out from under the table, a flash of colour catches my eye.
Tucked into the flap at the bottom of the box is a folded piece of orange paper. I pluck it free.
It’s a hospital patient leaflet for a condition called otosclerosis. What’s otosclerosis? I sit on the floor and lift the concertina flap to read:
Did Will Bailey have otosclerosis? Why else would he have a leaflet about it?
I read the leaflet from front to back twice.
I learn that although surgery sometimes helps, it’s risky and doesn’t always work.
In some cases, it can cause further damage to the inner ear, making things worse.
Hearing aids work for some people, but there are no guarantees.
The lyrics to Will’s last song pop into my head. Didn’t he sing about not being able to hear? I find the recording on my phone and listen to the lyrics.
If I can’t hear
your voice in my ear
Your laughter and your tears
Your secret hopes and fears.
If I can’t hear
you talk about your goals,
Your thoughts and your ideas
Little pieces of your soul
Then I can’t go on
Although I’m afraid
This pain will stop
When the music fades
Since I first heard them weeks ago, these lyrics have puzzled me, but now, with the help of this leaflet, they make perfect sense.
Will Bailey had otosclerosis.
He was losing his hearing.
What could be worse than losing your hearing when you’re a musician? This must have been why he killed himself – he couldn’t face life without music. Does Mum know about this? Surely if she did, she wouldn’t blame herself for his death.
Without thinking, I pick up my phone and call Chloe. All along, she’s been as obsessed as I am about finding out what happened to Will. It rings four times, then goes to voicemail and my heart sinks.