by Lesley Jones
Georgia has a huge crate somewhere, full of Maca’s letters to her that were either never sent, or returned. It also contains his diaries that he always kept, the notepads he always had with him, and old video cassette tapes of interviews and performances where he either directly or indirectly mentioned her. There were music tapes of songs that we’d never heard, and songs that he wrote but never allowed anyone else to read or see.
Ash told me that after a few previous attempts, George has finally decide to start working through and cataloguing the contents of the old packing crate. I’m hoping that one day soon, she’ll want to share anything that’s relevant, but at the same time, I’ll totally respect her decision if she wants to keep it all private.
I sometimes wonder how Cam copes with it all. My sister is obviously head over heels in love with the bloke, but at the same time, we all know that nothing or no one would ever be able to replace Maca and what they had together. I think her and Cam work because he’s never tried to do that. Their love is different, much easier to be around, where George and Maca’s love was intense, bordering on obsessive. It was like they needed each other more than air. I don’t know how to describe it, really, but that’s how it came across as an outsider looking in.
All of this is probably going to get deleted from the book. It’s just my thoughts and really fuck all to do with anyone else. I’m writing it because it helps me sort shit out in my head. It helps me make sense of thoughts and feelings I had about certain situations back then, all these years later.
Maca had the right idea, keeping a diary and always scribbling in those notebooks of his, but when we meet again, I’ll never admit that to him.
After sitting through a strained Christmas dinner, mostly spent watching my sister move food around her plate, rather than attempting to put any of it into her mouth, I made my excuses and left. As I was putting my coat on in the hallway, my mum came out and asked me what Maca had done that day.
“He’s at our place alone, mum. You said he couldn’t come here, remember?”
She nodded and sucked in her cheeks as she swallowed.
“Marley,” she said my name as if it were almost a plea. My sister’s obvious heartbreak was taking a toll on her, like Maca’s was on me, and I suddenly needed a cuddle from my mum.
My mum had always been tiny, but she felt frail when I wrapped my arms around her. I breathed in the Dior perfume that she’d always worn and held her close as she rested her head on my chest.
“I miss you, Marley. I hate what your sister’s breakup has done to our family.” She said quietly, her voice humming through me.
“I know, mum, I know, but Maca’s as much of a mess as G is. I just wish there was a way we could get them to talk to each other.”
She stepped back so that she could look up at me. For a few seconds, she looked like she was going to say something, but she didn’t. If only she had let me know that Whorely had been to see her, the truth would’ve come out so much sooner. Maca and G would’ve sorted their shit out, got married, had babies, and gotten the happily ever after they both deserved.
“I don’t think your sister is ready to see him yet. She leaves the room if his name even gets mentioned on the telly. It breaks my heart to watch her, Marls. I’m her mum and I don’t know how to fix this, to fix her. I just want to wrap her in cotton and protect her from the world. I’m so bloody angry with that boy.” She was crying as she spoke, and I was struggling not to.
“Mum, please don’t be angry with Maca. It was my fault more than it was his.” I pleaded with her.
“Yeah, well, I’m angry with you as well. Drugs Marley? All those drugs, and what about that AIDS that they’re all dying of. Sex and drugs ... I don’t like it, not one little bit. I know you’re a big rock star now, but you’re still my baby boy. I wish you were all little again, all here with me, tucked up in bed at night by seven so I knew exactly where you were and what you were up to.” She swayed from side to side as she spoke, reminding me of when she rocked me as a kid and I loved it.
“I’m sorry, mum. I’ve been good lately, I promise, and I’m always careful. No condom, no shag. The label has given us the talk about AIDS, unwanted pregnancies, girls trying to trap us, all that stuff, and we follow the rules.” My cheeks burned as I spoke that way to my mum. It was Christmas day, and that wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to be having with her ... Ever.
“Is Sean really at your place all on his own?” She was obviously happy to change the subject too.
“Yes, mum, he really is.”
“Well, just you wait a minute while I plate up a dinner for the boy. I hate to think of him not getting a proper Christmas lunch today.”
Less than an hour later, I pulled onto the drive of the place I currently called home. It wasn’t not home, but now, neither was my parents’ place. As long as there was animosity between me and my sister, I wouldn’t feel comfortable there. I felt a pang of loneliness uncurl from my belly and snake its way into my chest. I didn’t belong anywhere then.
I turned off the engine of my new car and looked across at Maca’s black version of my red Escort XR3i. We had the colours custom made to match the bands logo. His was black with a red trim and interior. Mine was red with a black trim and interior. Maca had an older version, one that my dad had recently sold for him, but our babies were brand spanking new.
I banged my head on the steering wheel of my brand new car and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I was better off than a lot of people, and if I felt lonely then, how the fuck would Maca be feeling?
When I let myself in the front door of our place, it seemed to be in darkness, but I could hear the faint sound of a guitar strumming. I put Maca’s dinner and dessert in the kitchen and made my way up to our bedrooms. His door was open and he was sitting on the bed with his legs out in front of him, back pressed against the headboard, strumming on his acoustic.
There were papers spread all around him, lyrics and music sheets, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He had shaved off the beard that he’d had most of the summer, but his hair was still long. My heart sort of hurt as I heard my sister’s voice in my head, always telling Maca how much she loved his hair longer.
He sensed me watching him and looked up at me.
“All right?” I asked him.
“I’m good.” He leaned across and reached for a bottle of Jack sitting on the chest of drawers next to his bed. He took a swig straight from the bottle then offered it to me. I stepped forward and took it from him and brought it to my lips.
I watched as he pulled the pencil from behind his ear and crossed something out on a piece of paper, then wrote something else. He then picked up a music sheet and made changes to that.
“There’s a dinner downstairs for you if you’re hungry. My mum sent it. I have a present for you too, probably the usual.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Shit, I didn’t think I was your parents’ favourite person. I wasn’t expecting a present ... I didn’t get them anything.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “They think of you as family. Families fuck up, and they know that.”
He nodded his head. “Shame your sister didn’t see things that way.” I remained silent, not knowing how to reply.
“What’s that you’re working on?” I asked and gestured with my chin towards the papers spread all over the bed.
“Something new I’ve written, but I just can’t get the tune right. I need you for that.”
Maca was great with the lyrics, but I was just as good, if not better, than he was with the music. It’s why we worked well together over the years. Billy and Tom never wrote lyrics, but they were both amazingly talented musicians and could turn my humming of a tune into an intricate musical masterpiece within minutes. We’d grown and evolved over the years, and although we’d improved massively, we still had a lot to learn.
“You wanna work on it now, or d’ya wanna eat?” I asked.
“Go get your guitar, I’ll eat later.”
<
br /> I carry the Santa Sack, (my mum still insisted on putting all our presents into it), to my room and empty the contents over the bed.
Despite the money I was earning, my parents still bought me the usual socks, underwear, and aftershave, as well as a checked Ben Sherman shirt. I had a vintage looking, Small Faces T-shirt from Jim and Len, along with a rare European import copy of ‘That’s Entertainment’ by The Jam. Bailey had given me a bottle of bourbon.
As I reached for Maca’s gifts from my mum and Dad, I noticed another gift, still wrapped. I recognised Georgia’s handwriting on the tag instantly and I was shocked to see that it was for me. I tore apart the wrapping and opened the cardboard pouch, tipping it upside down and shook it over my bed. A black leather guitar strap slid out. It had red stitching and the heart shaped crying eye, which was the bands logo, stitched into the leather, along with the letters B B M.
I read the message on the tag properly...
To my Big Brother Marley,
Merry Christmas!
Your Little Sister Georgia
XXXXX
I ran my thumb and finger over the leather, my emotions at war inside my head and my heart. I wanted to be angry at my sister for shutting me out, for not being prepared to talk to me or hear Maca out, but at the same time, when I saw her, it was then that I understood how hurt she was and I knew that she just needed time to heal. The small gesture from G gave me hope that one day, I’d have her back in my life.
I folded up the strap and placed it carefully in my drawer, grabbed Maca’s presents from the bed, and headed back into his room.
I sat on his bed and rolled a joint as he unwrapped the standard socks, boxers, and aftershave that my mum and Dad got him every year.
When I’d finished rolling and lit the spliff, Maca passed me a sheet of A4 paper with words written all over it. I moved up the bed and leaned back on the headboard next to him so that I could use the light from the lamp and start to read the words to the song that he’d written.
Seaside Heart
My heart, it’s like a seaside town, on a dark, winter’s day.
The shutters are down. The crowds stay away.
Its beat it resounds, resembling a military tattoo.
But devoid of all feeling, since there wasn't you.
My heart, it’s like a seaside town, when the wind blows hard.
And lightning strikes, all emotion charred.
It's bleak and it's lonely
It's cold and it's bare.
The sun doesn't shine.
Now that you're not there.
I miss you so much,
That I can barely breathe.
Without your warmth, taste, and touch,
I'm brought to my knees.
Like a seaside town
I'll wait for my sun.
Keep my love boarded up
Till the day that you come.
I'll wait and I'll hope
I'll beg and I'll plead.
Worship at your feet,
If that's what you need.
Just like the sunshine
I know you'll return.
Our bond too strong,
For you not to be mine.
Until that day happens,
When the sun shines bright,
I’ll keep your heart in my hands,
My memories held tight.
Like a seaside town
I’ll always believe
In the love that we share,
Of you and of me.
I ran my hand over my face, struggling to find the right words to respond. I took a draw on the joint before passing it to Maca. I scratched at my head and let the effects of the weed slalom through my brain. “I don’t know what to say. Fuck, mate, that’s fucking brilliant. I-I honestly I have no words.”
We sat in silence for a few long moments. I’d had one question going around in my head and although I wasn’t scared to ask it, I was terrified of the answer.
“Is this really how you feel?” I eventually got the courage to ask, already knowing what the answer would be.
“Every second of every day.”
“Fuck, Mac ... how? I mean, shit. How do you get through a day? How can you live your life feeling like this?”
He took a long draw, then passed the joint back to me. I stared up at the ceiling as I waited for his answer. I heard him blowing out the smoke he’d inhaled.
“I can’t, not anymore. I’m done, Marls. I love your sister, I’ll never stop loving her, but I need to let her go. If I don’t, it’s gonna kill me.”
I turned my head towards him, my mind racing with what that meant.
“You’ve not ... I mean, you wouldn’t? Shit.” I sat up and tried to get what I wanted to say straight in my head.
“You wouldn’t do anything stupid though, would ya, mate?” Despite feeling boneless and light, my heart was racing as I asked.
“You mean top myself?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean, Mac. Please tell me that’s not something you’d do.” I smoked the joint down to the roach and put it out before turning to look at him.
“Do you never think about dying Marls?” The gold and amber in his brown eyes showed through in the lamp light and I laughed, rather than answer his question.
“What are you laughing at?” he asked. “That was a serious question, ya dick.”
I laughed again. “Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking that your eyes look pretty in the lamp light.”
“My eyes look pretty?” he asked.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You’re fucking mad. You’re not gonna make a pass at me or anything, are you Marls? Coz no offence, mate, but you’re just not my type.”
“No, Mac, I’m not gonna make a pass at you. Sorry, I’ll just shut up.”
“Yeah, I think that’d be for the best.”
“Although, we’ve never spoken about what happened with Siobhan that time.”
He let out a long sigh and turned his head to look at me, raising first his eyebrows, and then his shoulders in a shrug. “What’s there to talk about? Like you said, at the time, it was just sex. We were both fucking the same person at the same time. It’s happened since then, and I’m sure that it’ll happen again, but it’s not like we fucked each other. I love ya, Marls, but I have absolutely no desire to fuck you. No offence, mate”
I smiled at him. “None taken. Your eyes still look pretty in the lamplight though.”
“Fuck off being a dick,” he said with a grin. I couldn’t help but feel pleased that I’d made him smile.
“And stop avoiding the question that I just asked.”
“What was the question?” I asked.
“Do you ever think about dying?” I decided to go with honesty.
“Not often, no. It’s crossed my mind occasionally, especially when we were on tour and I was using a lot, but now that I’ve stopped all that ol’ bollocks, no, not often.” I paused for a few seconds, actually thinking about my own death.
“I could never put my family through the consequences of me doing something deliberate. I hate to think what that might do to them,” I said.
“Yeah, well, that’s probably the difference between me and you.”
“What is?”
“You’ve got people that give a fuck. Who gives a shit about me?”
“Oh, charming. So what about me and my family? What about Tom, Bill, all of our fans? Dude, how can you lay there and even say that?” Anger started to boil away at his crass comment and I actually wanted to punch him. “I know things have been shit between you and my family lately, but they still love you the same. Even George, despite everything, still loves you.”
“Yeah, perhaps they do, perhaps she does, but not enough to get me an invite to Christmas dinner and not enough to reply to one of my letters, or to pick up the phone and say ‘let’s talk.’ Not enough for much, really.”
“I’m not defending her, but she’s hurt and angry, and perhaps we all have t
o accept the fact that she’s never gonna forgive us. I hope that’s not the case, but I don’t think George is gonna be getting in touch anytime soon, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t care if anything happened to you.”
I didn’t want to tell him that she gave me a Christmas present, as I thought he’d take it one of two ways. He’d either be really hurt that she didn’t get him anything, or he’d see it as G’s walls coming down. And as much as I would’ve hoped that’d be the case, I didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to give Maca another chance.
“Think about it. If she’s this devastated at the thought of you with another bird, can you imagine what state she’d be in if anything ever happened to you?”
He shook his head. “Probably the same way I’d feel if anything ever happened to her.”
“Well, there ya go then. Now, stop talking shit and let’s get a tune going for this lyrical masterpiece you’ve spent the day writing.”
Seaside Heart was the fastest and biggest selling single of 1986 in five countries.
CHAPTER EIGHT
1986
Our tour of Australia, Asia and the US, kicked off in February of 1986. We started in Melbourne for four nights, then up to Sydney and Brisbane. Because of the demand for tickets, we agreed to fly back to Sydney and Melbourne and played an extra two nights in each city. I paid for my parents to fly out and they watched us play in Sydney. I arranged for them to also tour the rest of Australia, staying in the Blue Mountains—Melbourne and Surfers Paradise. It felt good giving back and they seemed to love Australia as much as we all did. It does, in fact, remain one of my favourite places on earth to visit.
Asia was hot and sweaty and the fans were crazy, but still, we loved every moment. It was our first tour as the headline act and we were having a blast.