Page 65 of When We Were Young

Emily

I drum my fingernails on the kitchen table. Where is Liv? The bakery shuts in twenty minutes. If she doesn’t get here soon, we won’t get there in time to pick up Dad’s birthday cake.

My phone vibrates, I snatch it up thinking it’s a message from Liv. But it’s not.

FHD: Hey. How are you?

Just then, the front door opens. ‘I’m back!’ Liv calls from the hall. ‘Shall we go?’

I pocket my phone, scoop up my father’s gift, and follow her out to the car.

She scrolls through her phone as I pull away and I simmer with anger the whole way to the bakery.

I dash inside, pick up the cake and they turn the closed sign over as they see me out.

Liv barely looks up from her phone as I open the passenger door and put the cake box on her lap. ‘Don’t drop it.’

Back in the driver’s seat, I swivel in my seat and come right out with it. ‘I rang Amplify today.’

She lifts her eyes from her phone. ‘What?’

I glare directly at her. ‘I rang Amplify today.’

‘Why?’

‘I needed to get hold of you. You weren’t answering your phone.’

‘I messaged you.’ She looks away. ‘I told you I’d leave early so we could pick up Grandad’s cake.’

‘You messaged eventually, but before that I tried the Amplify office. So, where do you go?’

Her eyes dart in every direction except mine.

‘What do you mean “where do I go”?’

‘Where do you go on Saturdays?’

‘You know where I go on Saturdays.’ Her voice is calm.

‘Come on, Olivia, I told you I rang Amplify .’

She won’t meet my eyes. ‘So?’

‘You’re making me say it?’

‘Say what?’

‘The Amplify office is closed on Saturdays.’

The spark of an idea lights up her face. ‘It’s social media, Mum. It’s twenty-four-seven.’

‘So, they’re open on Saturdays, but no one’s there to answer the phones and they let sixteen-year-old interns into the office by themselves?’

‘Obviously you don’t believe me…’

I don’t believe her.

‘You don’t need to be in the office to post on social media,’ she adds.

‘Which brings me back to my original question. Where do you go on Saturdays?’

She sighs. ‘Look, I didn’t tell you because you wouldn’t approve.’

Now I’m worried. ‘Wouldn’t approve of what?’

She mutters something incoherent, but I catch the words ‘Will Bailey’.

‘What?’

‘I said I’ve been creating an archive for Will Bailey.’

I shake my head in confusion. ‘What does that even mean ?’

‘It means I go to his parents’ house, to their garage, and I sort through all his stuff, I log it on a spreadsheet.’ She speaks slowly. Gently. ‘I photograph it and put it on his website and store the stuff properly and “archive” it.’

‘What sort of stuff?’

Liv eyes me, concern etched on her brow. ‘His notebooks, lyrics, and photographs. I go through it, find the stuff fans would be interested in and I put it on the website.’

‘He has a website?’

‘Yes, but I’m working on a new one. It’s not ready yet, but it will be soon.’

I have no words. I can’t compute this. Will’s stuff is there in his parents’ garage. His family has let a stranger, a sixteen-year-old girl, rifle through his things, and they’re putting it on the fucking internet.

How I wish I had more of his things. I kept his t-shirt from the day he left to go on tour with Paradigm, the letters he sent from America, a small box of Christmas and birthday gifts, but it wasn’t enough.

How I clung to those few objects. ‘They wouldn’t let me have any of his things.

They wouldn’t even let me go to his funeral. Do they know who you are?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do they know you’re my daughter?’

‘No. There’s been no reason to mention who my mum is.’

‘They wouldn’t let you in there if they knew.’ My mind’s spinning. ‘I asked you to stop snooping. You said you would drop it. You promised me.’ I’m shaking. ‘You didn’t stop – all the while you were going through his private things behind my back…’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’ She rests her hand on my forearm.

‘I was working for Amplify , just not at the office. We met Will’s family when we were researching an article.

They had all his stuff in flight cases and none of them could bring themselves to go through it.

I offered to help. I knew you wouldn’t approve, but I didn’t want someone else to do it. I wanted to do it.’

I’m too tired to argue. ‘We need to know where you are, Liv. We’ve talked about this.’

‘Mum, I’m working hard on this.’ She shifts forward, the cake wobbling on her lap. ‘I’m doing it as a fan. I love his work, the words he wrote, the music. So do thousands of others. People will find this stuff fascinating. There won’t be any more songs. This gives his fans a bit more… of him.’

People want more of Will, of course they do. They did, even when he was alive. They couldn’t get enough of him.

Even when he had nothing left to give.

The clock on the dashboard says 5:40 p.m.

‘We don’t have time for this,’ I say and turn the key in the ignition.

We are silent on the drive home. I’m exhausted from pretending to be happy for the last few hours, from trying not to ruin my father’s birthday, from pretending everything’s normal with Liv.

As I drive, all I can think of is her in Will’s garage going through his things.

What has she seen there? And what is she putting on the internet for the world to see? My own daughter.

I pull up outside the house and march up the path.

Liv follows me to the kitchen. I go straight to the fridge, but there’s no wine.

Aware of Liv hovering in my peripheral vision, I go through the cupboards until I find some gin.

As I put the bottle on the counter, I glance over. Her face is all screwed up.

‘Liv?’

She bursts into tears, and it takes me completely by surprise. She’s never been one to turn on the waterworks. Being an only child meant she never had to cry to get her way.

‘What’s the matter?’ I go to her and touch her arm.

‘I’ve messed everything up. Amplify fired me and now I’m going to lose the archive too.’

I put my arm around her. ‘You got fired? What happened?’

Between sobs, she tells me she got Brett Lewis to agree to an interview at Beatland and how she wrote a series of articles hoping to persuade Amplify to run a special for the twentieth anniversary of Fragments . I’m furious and proud in equal measure.

‘I didn’t realise it meant that much to you.’

‘It means everything .’

Her big blue eyes are wet with tears, reminding me of that little girl I miss, the one who relied on me to fix her scraped knee or chase away a nightmare.

Motherly instinct is fighting with the anger that’s been simmering inside me all day.

I sigh. ‘Get the articles – I want to read them.’