This Beats Perfect

  ‘Hi, Amelie.’ The girl stood up and grabbed two badges, one with ‘Amelie Ayres ARTIST’ printed on it and the other with ‘Maisie Stone AAA’.

  ‘And you must be her plus one?’ the other girl said to Maisie.

  ‘I am! Ooh, it says “AAA”. What does that mean, then?’

  ‘Access All Areas.’ The girl looked a little surprised.

  ‘Sorry, we’re completely new at this.’ Maisie grinned and put the pass around her neck.

  ‘That’s okay,’ said the first girl, and turned to Amelie. ‘Here is the map of the site. Here is the food tent, and here are the artists’ toilets and the lounge area.’ She put a couple of big red crosses on the map and handed it to Amelie. ‘Do you need help with your stuff? It says here it’s just you and the guitar?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Amelie.

  The other girl handed them a couple of canvas bags with ‘MUSIC IN THE PARK’ printed on them. Inside there were all sorts of goodies.

  ‘Oooooh!’ Maisie pulled out gift after gift – sunscreen, make-up, bottled water, a pair of fold up Ray-Bans and a necklace from a local artist. ‘And perfume!’ she said, squirting some of Ellie Goulding’s latest scent around them. ‘Oh god, that stinks.’

  They both giggled as they made their way to the artists’ area.

  ‘What time are your parents coming?’ Maisie asked.

  ‘Soon, I think. I’m going to meet them for a beer before the crowds get too big. I wish they could come backstage.’

  Amelie took a deep breath as she waved her badge at the security guard outside the artists’ area.

  ‘Hi, ladies,’ he smiled at them.

  ‘This is the best.’ Maisie clung to her friend as they found a seat on a picnic bench and watched the other less-famous artists milling around. The really big ones were in trailers to the back of the artists’ area, and the rumour was that the headliners were arriving by helicopter just before they went on.

  ‘LADIES!’ They both turned to see Julian come squealing towards them, his arms in the air and Clint following close behind. ‘Oh my god! So awesome.’

  They all hugged and kissed, giddy with excitement.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Amelie said with delight.

  ‘Darling, how are YOU?’ Clint asked.

  Amelie smiled. ‘I’m good. Surviving the summer and recovering from … you know.’

  ‘Well, no, I don’t. Julian insists you haven’t said a word. What happened? I take it you didn’t fancy him in the end or we’d have wedding bells by now?’

  ‘No. I mean, I guess. Well, he’s gone back to America. And, I’m just not sure …’

  ‘They kissed, but we’re not sure what his deal is with Dee. I mean, if they’re not together why does literally EVERYONE say that they are? Unless he played my Amelie,’ Maisie said, waving her hand. ‘We don’t like.’

  ‘WHAT?’ Julian looked confused and looked at Clint. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Dee,’ Amelie said flatly. ‘I even read in the paper a few weeks back that they were still together. Well, my mum read it because my French is totes provincial.’

  Julian and Clint both looked at each other uneasily.

  ‘He’s not with Dee,’ said Julian. ‘I know that 100 per cent for sure.’

  ‘And he’s left The Keep,’ Clint added. ‘I know that 100 per cent for sure. That’s why we’re here. Well, Julian’s my plus one. I was supposed to be finishing the tour film but I’m here filming the main stage for the organisers, because The Keep are taking a “break”, a. k. a. preparing to announce Max has left, a. k. a. probably breaking up because the best singer has gone, a. k. a. I’m looking for a new job.’ He rolled his eyes.

  ‘He did it,’ Amelie said in shock.

  ‘He did,’ Julian nodded.

  Amelie looked at them both, a little stunned. ‘That’s great. I’m happy for him. What do you mean you know 100 per cent he’s not with Dee?’

  Julian looked a little uneasy. ‘Well, um, they had an argument in the studio, or rather, she told him some very spicy news.’

  ‘What!?’ Amelie and Maisie’s eyes widened and they leaned in close.

  ‘Well, she’s been seeing Charlie. Apparently for months. There was even … cross-over.’ He pulled a face.

  ‘So, she ended it that day, or what?’ Amelie pushed.

  ‘No, no, she just wanted to tell him because it was Charlie and, I guess, you know, they didn’t want to sneak around any more. It was hilarious because she TOTALLY thought he still loved her. And he was all like, girl, I don’t care.’

  ‘Oh my god.’ Maisie looked across to Amelie. ‘Amelie!’

  ‘I can’t believe you didn’t know,’ Julian pressed.

  Amelie suddenly felt her heart swell. The feelings she had suppressed for the last few weeks began to sizzle and she longed to speak to Max. ‘Well, it doesn’t really matter, I mean, it’s not like he’s exactly been in touch.’

  There was another unnerving silence. ‘What now?’

  ‘Amelie, I have something to tell you.’ Maisie looked at her friend. ‘He got in contact a few days ago.’

  ‘WHAT THE WHAT!?’ Amelie screamed. ‘WHAT?’

  She stood up and paced back and forth, rubbing her head and trying to take it all in.

  ‘What we have here is your classic, tragic misunderstanding,’ Julian said dramatically.

  ‘Yeah, he messaged me …’ Maisie looked distressed as she recounted their brief interaction. ‘I just didn’t want him to screw you around because you were doing so well. You know, things are really starting to happen for you.’

  Amelie shook her head and tried to laugh about it. ‘Jesus. It’s almost funny, really. Me and Charlie, him and Dee, Dee and Charlie. The Sun couldn’t make this shit up,’ she sighed heavily. ‘Oh man, I should have messaged him. I nearly did so many times.’

  ‘Well, thank god he’s here.’

  ‘He’s here!?’

  ‘Well, he’s coming. To London at least. I had to arrange for him to pick up the masters. This is all very strange, Amelie, we so thought you knew all this. I feel really bad. But you guys were getting on so well I just assumed you were in touch all summer and you just didn’t want to talk about it.’

  Amelie felt her stomach turn, and a huge rush of emotion overcame her. She put her head in her hands and shook her head quietly. Maisie was in full fix-it mode.

  ‘Shall I message him back, Amelie? That’s what I’ll do. Shall I?’ she asked frantically.

  Amelie stood up. ‘I need a beer,’ she said. ‘I can’t think about this right now.’

  She wandered over to the rider, reminding her of the day at the Apollo when she first spoke to Max. She thought about all that had happened in the weeks since, and wondered what she should do next. She felt dizzy suddenly and leaned forward to steady herself.

  ‘Amelie!’ Maisie was beside her at once. ‘Amelie, you need to put this out of your head and you need to go on stage and perform. Then we can get in touch with Max. We can sort this out.’

  ‘I didn’t know. I’m such an idiot.’

  ‘Let’s go meet your parents, and have that beer.’

  Amelie felt in a sun-soaked daze as they wandered through the grounds. They were filling up steadily and groups of people were parking up on the vast lawns with picnic blankets and Pimm’s in plastic glasses. Amelie spotted her parents immediately, about twenty feet from the beer tent, perched on a tartan blanket drinking bubbles.

  ‘Celebrating, are we?’ Amelie squeaked. Though it happened rarely, she was always delighted at the sight of her parents hanging out.

  ‘Amelie!’ They both jumped up and threw their arms around her. ‘We’re so proud of you!’ Her mother kissed her for the hundredth time.

  ‘How was the train back? Did Monsieur Lamont get mad at you asking for a Saturday off?’ Amelie asked.

  ‘Actually,’ her mum took a deep breath. ‘I quit.’

  ‘What!? You quit?’ Amelie felt bad that she couldn’t hi
de the delight in her voice.

  ‘Yes, I quit. I had to, Amelie. I should never had contemplated moving to Paris at such a time in your life.’ She kissed her daughter’s cheek. ‘You’re a young woman now and I need to listen to you. And anyway, the Roman Road market would only hold my new stall slot until next weekend.’

  ‘What? Really?’ Amelie threw her arms back around her mother. ‘You got the place! That’s brilliant. Oh my god, what did Monsieur Lamont say to that?’

  ‘I don’t know. I left a note,’ Ella said, biting her lower lip. ‘Never again. I’m never working for anyone else ever again.’

  ‘Champagne?’ Amelie’s dad held out a glass each for the girls.

  ‘This is better than beer,’ Amelie nodded, taking a huge sip, unable to remove the smile from her face.

  Amelie stood at the side of the stage waiting for the act before her to finish. She looked down at the guitar around her neck and felt its beautiful edges and thought of Max. The excitement overwhelmed her, at performing and at seeing him again.

  The crowd had thickened toward the front of the stage and the applause was growing. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn’t feel frightened, the butterflies she felt in her stomach were of nervous excitement, not fear. She was amped. She couldn’t wait to play her opening chord.

  ‘You’re on, Amelie!’ whispered the roadie who had helped her get set up.

  She was introduced over the loudspeaker.

  ‘And now, the Google Unsigned Talent Winner – who will certainly not be unsigned for long – let’s give a warm east London welcome for our local girl, AMELIE AYRES.’

  The applause was perfect, the modest afternoon crowd getting behind one of their own and thoroughly revelling in their sun-soaked afternoon.

  Amelie was bursting with pride as she looked out across the field.

  As she stretched her fingers she searched for Maisie and her parents, who were standing just to the right of the stage, exactly where they said they would be. Her mother waved and her father smiled, while Maisie clapped her hands in delight.

  ‘Hi, I’m Amelie,’ she said into the microphone. ‘And this song is called “Two Tuesday Blues”.

  She began, her nerves steady and her fingers strong. The music was so loud, the sound lifting her so she could float away, be carried through.

  The crowd cheered. She allowed herself to look around and drink in the feeling of performing. It was everything she hoped. Her eyes moved across the front row where drunken teenagers swayed along, back to the picnicking crowds holding up beers and cheering, to Brooke and Ashleigh who were stood carrying hotdogs and cider cocktails – their mouths agape. Tara stood next to them with a smile spreading across her face; she raised her hands and gave a mighty cheer. Amelie allowed herself a little triumphant grin in her direction.

  Then Amelie looked down at her set list and across to the side of the stage, where she saw him. Standing there.

  He was standing in the wings watching her. His face lit up when they locked eyes and she felt that familiar warmth flowing through her. He looked the same. Maybe more relaxed. Happy. He waved. In his other hand he was holding an old copy of Pet Sounds, with a big red ribbon around it.

  She managed a smile before pushing on to her second track, allowing the feeling of excitement to rush through her. He was really here, in the flesh. Here and not in a relationship with Dee and – almost the best news of all – not in a terrible boyband any more.

  She looked down at her mum, who was weeping uncontrollably, and her father, who was shaking his head at her mother and giving Amelie the thumbs up. Maisie looked drunk on champagne, dancing and singing along to all the words. It was the best day of Amelie’s life.

  ‘Um, I’ve got time for one more,’ said Amelie, glancing back to Max. ‘This is a song I wrote with a friend. Well, hopefully more than a friend.’

  The crowd whistled and cheered and Amelie closed her eyes. She wondered if anything would ever feel this good again.

  ‘It’s called “The Ballad of Beginnings.”

  Acknowledgements

  I want to firstly thank Julian Friedmann for answering my hastily written DM on Twitter. I will be forever grateful to you, Julian, for taking a chance on me and for pairing me up with my smart and kind agent and now dear friend Hattie Grunewald. How did I get this lucky? You are both incredible.

  And to Sarah Castleton (you are a wonder) who bought the first messy draft and helped bring out the best of me in my book. Thanks also to the team at Atom Books – Stephanie, Olivia, Nico and Sam. You amaze with your creativity and cleverness.

  A very big hug for the support and answering of groveling emails begging for help, in particular Tim Dellow, Kevin Molloy, Nick Abbott, Ardon Taylor and Matt Ingram. And a special mention to my dearest Toby L (and darling Deb) and all the Rockfeedback crew past and present who inspired this series and were part of one of the most fun, carefree and hazy times of my life.

  It would be seriously remiss not to mention the crew of Dunedin gals (special nod to Lisa & Marissa) with whom I lived and breathed music. Here’s to sneaking into gigs, $4 jugs and perfectly stable table for dancings. Oh god how I loved being 17 with you.

  A virtual pint (until I can buy a proper round) for lending their valuable time and expertise to: Flash, Alex Thompson, Chris Sweeney, Rachael Bollard, Thomas Hannan and Dennis Weinrich. Also to my designer Donya Davis. THANK YOU for making me look far cooler than I am, and please keep painting!

  A dancing gif to Frankie Hulme, Mya Punter-Bradshaw and Lily Cole for their invaluable critiques.

  A humble thank you for lovingly helping with the kiddies so I could write: Mum, Anna, Edith, Jula and Juliet. And ALL THE GIN to the mums (and dads) who held my hand during those first months – The Maybies, Vicky Shields, Torie Chilcott, and my Hackney NCT crew, Foxy and my big, wonderful online village.

  A trio of pink loveheart emoji’s (because there are no words) to my lady writer inspirations: Dolly, Laura, Emma, Katz, Aleks, Kate and Allison.

  My girls: Nicki, Chloe, Cathy, Aimee, Carolyn, Sara, Kylee and Marta. Thank you for the emails, support and encouragement in this journey.

  Always thanks to my awesome family, Mum, Dad, Michael, Tom & Sonya. Oh how I wish we were all in the same place.

  Eternal love and gratitude to the person who started me on this journey: Rachael. I’ll never forget our lunch in Swan Valley, you are an inspiration as a cousin, a mother, a writer and a friend.

  And biggest thanks of course, to Bernie and my baby girls, Billie and Georgia.