Standing in the kitchen of the Delaney’s family home, I twirled the ring around my finger as tears trickled down my cheeks. I’d got to the point where wiping them away was a wasted exercise. They’d only be replaced by more, so what was the point?
A hand squeezed my shoulder. “Are you all right, love?�
I turned to see the red-rimmed eyes of my would-be mother-in-law and I placed my hand over hers and nodded. “Are you okay?�
Her lip trembled but she forced a smile. “Getting there. I’m so sorry about Simeon’s behaviour. He’s taken this all so hard. Understandably really as Joey was his hero. I’m not sure how he’ll recover from this.�
My stomach knotted with guilt and the physical pain of it, almost excruciating in nature, stabbed at every nerve and fibre inside me. I closed my eyes and whispered, “Please tell him I’m so very sorry.�
After hugging Joe’s mum tightly, I left the house where I had spent so many happy days, for what I expected to be the very last time. I was moving back to Scotland to be nearer to my parents and they had already found me a cottage to rent. I needed to be alone. And the little farm cottage near Kelso would give me what I needed. But I couldn’t bear to say goodbye and so I would simply leave with my mum and dad after the service.
Hopefully, in time, I would figure out a way to make amends to Si for not being there to stop Joe making the worst mistake of his short life.
Chapter 3
Si
*
The funeral was unbearable.
So many people attended—including camera crews from MTV and other well-known music stations who were there to report on the premature snuffing out of a star on the rise. Joe was loved so much by so many and I had let him down. The atmosphere was thick with sadness and emotion.
But I was numb.
I couldn’t handle it, and so I think my mind just shut the world out. My once happy-go-lucky attitude was irreparably damaged and my soul dented. I stood there at the crematorium staring blankly at the coffin as people around me sobbed and wailed. My broken heart was so shattered that no amount of crying would help. So I stared, willing him to burst out of the box and tell everyone the joke was over.
But, of course, it was no joke.
My folks had asked me to speak at the service. But how could my measly words make up for the loss of such a wonderful guy?
I took to the podium and cleared my throat. “Joe was the best. There’s no other way to describe him. Instead of telling me I cramped his style like most big brothers do, Joe went out of his way to be there for me. He taught me about music… about life… and about love. I remember one conversation we had about death when we were kids. He insisted he wanted a joke or a silly rhyme on his headstone when he was an old man, so people knew he was fun when he was alive. The rhyme went… Roses are red, violets are blue, I’m dead and I’m behind you… boo!� A small rumble of low laughter travelled the room. “But I have to say that now he’s gone…and he wasn’t an old man… I have no clue what wording would be a fitting tribute. How do you sum up in a few words the life of a man who achieved so much and touched the lives of so many? How do you say goodbye to your best friend? How do you move on knowing that every time you want to share good news, he won’t be there to listen? I just… I don’t know how. Joey… you were more than just a big brother… you were my hero. I’ll never forget you or what you did for me. Rest in peace, big bro. Know that you’re loved.�
I crumpled the paper in my hand. Whatever I had written was forgotten as my emotions took over. Tears trailed down my face as I stepped away and glanced over one last time at the coffin. The opening bars to “Oceans� by Pearl Jam began to play and I was reminded once again of the fact that I would never lay beside my brother on his bed as he listened to the song that reminded him of Allie. I lost it. My legs buckled and I couldn’t breathe. I heard a cry, and only seconds later—when Dad came to my rescue and helped me back to my seat—did I realise it had been me who made the anguished noise. Back in my seat, my body shook and my heart hurt as I gave in to my tears.
���
As I left the building with my mum at one side of me and my dad at the other, Mum squeezed my shoulder. “Are you okay, sweetheart?�
Fighting to keep myself upright, and angry that I was the one being comforted when they had lost their son, I gritted my teeth to stop my jaw from trembling. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again, Mum,� I told her honestly.
She reached up and cupped my cheek in her palm. “You will, Simeon. I promise we’ll all get through this. Together. As a family,� she insisted, and I smiled like a dutiful son.
The last thing I wanted to tell her was that I could have happily swapped places with my brother and that I had seriously considered joining him since he’d gone. The only thing stopping me from taking my own life was the thought that they had been through enough. I couldn’t be so selfish.
Thankfully, our interaction was cut short when Mum was enveloped by family and friends, all wanting to do their bit to console her. Joe was her first-born son and I had lost count of the number of times she had sobbed, saying that no parent should have to lose a child this way. She didn’t say she blamed me. But I was still alive and he was gone.
Guilt was crushing me from the inside out. And what guilt hadn’t reached, anger at myself had begun to corrode.
I glanced over and saw Allie standing alone, her bloodshot eyes expressing the same emptiness that now lived inside me. I should have gone to apologise to her. I should have gone over and hugged her or at least said something, but what the fuck could I say? And why would she listen?
Everyone gradually left the crematorium and made their way to the venue where the wake was being held. I promised my dad I’d follow, but instead I went home and packed a bag then wrote an apology to my folks, asking them to let me have some time. I took a last look at the photos showing all the happy times I had spent with Joe, and then I left my home and made my way to the train station to catch a train back to uni. It was a cowardly thing to do but I had to leave. The crazy thing was, no one had told me they blamed me for Joe’s death but I blamed me enough for everyone.
I needed to be out of the way so I could cause no more hurt.
���
Back on campus, studying was virtually impossible. The fact I was studying English, my second passion to music, did nothing to ease my mind. I couldn’t get lost in books the way I used to. Nothing would hold my attention. Not even my old favourites could distract me from the melancholy that had taken up residence in my head and heart, and so my assignments began to suffer.
Both Mum and Dad did their best to try and console me. They turned up at my digs several times over the weeks that followed, and after lecturing me on the fact I was getting skinny, they insisted on taking me out for food. But we’d end up sitting there in silence; that or the conversation would revolve around memories of Joe and I would slump deeper and deeper into depression. I got tired of hearing people tell me I needed to talk to someone about my grief when the one person I could talk to was no longer around. It was like rubbing salt in an open wound. So I stopped socialising too.
But one day changed it all.
There I was, sitting at my desk in my tiny room, staring at a blank page that had been open on my laptop for fuck knows how long, when someone knocked at my door. I fully expected to see my parents’ worried faces when I reluctantly rose and opened it, but instead a familiar, bearded face greeted me and I was grappled into a bear hug that almost squeezed the life out of me.
“Jeez, Si. You look like utter shit. We’re all worried sick about you, bud,� my long-haired visitor informed me.
“Nick? W-what are you doing here? Why? I mean…�
Nick Dacre, the lead vocalist of Sonic Idols and one of my brother’s best friends, had taken Joe’s death hard too. The evidence showed in the dark circles around his eyes.
He pulled away from me and gripped my shoulders. His eyes were glassy but a line of worry formed between his brows. “Someone had to come and sort you the fuck out, mate. I insisted it was me.�
I stepped back and scowled at him. “I don’t need ‘sorting the fuck out’, Nick.� I punctuated my response with air quotes. “I’m fine, so you can go back to London or wherever the hell you should be.�
He shoved past me and stepped into my dingy box of a room. “Yeah? Fine, huh? You disappeared after the funeral with no proper explanation to your folks, just a letter saying you needed to be alone. You haven’t been home in weeks. Your calls home last about ten seconds. You’re clearly not eating enough and this room stinks of fucking B.O. But all that’s completely normal, mate, so no worries, eh?� His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Evidently, he was on a mission from my mother.
I slumped onto my bed and heaved a sigh as I ran my hands through my lank, greasy hair. “I just couldn’t hack the wake, that’s all. All those people grieving. It just hurt too much. That’s all it is. I feel like… like it’s all my…� I was on the verge of admitting that I held myself entirely responsible for Joe’s death, but didn’t need to voice it so I stopped myself. Saying the words aloud would be too painful and would sound like a pity party.
He sat down beside me. “You feel like it’s your fault, don’t you?� His voice was low and I could feel his eyes boring into me.
I lowered my head further and rested it in my hands. I couldn’t reply.
“I knew that’s how you felt. Right from the first time I saw you after it happened.� He fell silent for a moment. “But, do you know what? It’s not your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. And I can’t blame myself, Si, because if I let myself venture down that path, I’ll have a nervous breakdown. Or jump off a fucking bridge.� He gripped my arm and pulled it down, forcing me to sit up and face him. He squeezed my arm tight. “Blaming ourselves won’t bring him back, Si. You have to stop. You have to move forward. And… that’s why I’m here.�
I shook my head. “What do you mean?�
“You have to finish off what Joe started.�
I shrugged my shoulders in confusion. “And how the hell do I do that?�
Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if plucking up the courage to speak again. “Replace Joe in the band, Si. We need you.�
I stood and held my hands up. “Whoa, whoa. Hang on. You can’t be serious about that? How the fuck can you ask me to even think about replacing Joe? He’s only been gone a couple of months, Nick. No fucking way. It’s like… it’s like I’d be pretending to be him. I can’t do that. It’s wrong.�
He pleaded at me with his eyes. “It’s not wrong. It’s a perfect way to pay tribute to your big brother, mate.�
I paced up and down the small confined space, feeling like a caged animal. “The fuck it is! Jeez, I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it. Are you mental? I think you should leave.�
Nick held his hands up in a kind of surrender gesture. “Si, we need a drummer. You’re a fucking brilliant drummer. You know all the songs. You’re family. And what better people are there to spend your time with than with family, eh?�
I clenched my fists and my jaw simultaneously. I wanted to punch him. How dare he suggest that anyone could just step in and replace my brother? Let alone me.
I gripped the dirty strands of my hair to stop myself from grabbing Nick by the throat. “He’s not a fucking dead plant, Nick. You can’t just get a new one and hope it lasts longer.�
“I’m in no way suggesting—�
“And even if I wanted to—which I don’t—I’m not good enough. I’m not Joe. I’ll never be Joe. I…I really think you should leave now before I lose my shit completely.� I stepped towards the door.
Nick stood too but didn’t follow me. “No. I won’t leave. Not yet. You need to do this, Si. I do mean it. You need to carry on where he left off. It’s catharsis. It’d help. He’d want you to do it and you know I’m right. He raved about your playing. Did you know he thought you were better than he was? And that he was gutted you didn’t join a band? Did you know any of that?�
More than a little shell-shocked, I shook my head. He’d said words to that effect on many occasions, but I’d never taken him seriously, always figuring he was just being a good brother. A supportive brother. But… maybe he meant it after all?
Nick stepped towards me. “So, this is your chance. This is your opportunity, Si. Do it for Joe. Please?�
Chapter 4
Si
*
Walking in to the first rehearsal with Sonic Idols was bizarre. Blue Demon had booked us this plush studio in London, the likes of which I had only dreamed about. Nick had met me at my hotel so I wouldn’t have to turn up alone. It was like he’d taken on the big brother role. It was kind of him and I appreciated having him beside me as I walked into the room, shaking like a leaf.
“Si, my old buddy!� Chris called as we stepped towards the guys who were tuning up. “I’ve got a great joke for you.�
I turned to Nick, who rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “Fuck’s sake, Chris. Give the guy a chance to settle in, eh?� he chastised his Aussie friend.
Chris waved his hands. “Nah, nah. This is a good one. Okay, so… how do you know a drummer’s at your door?�
I scrunched my brow and folded my arms over my chest, waiting to see if it was one I’d heard before. “Go on.�
He started laughing. “The knocking speeds up.� He guffawed, throwing his head back and holding his stomach like some mental cartoon character.
I shook my head and couldn’t help laughing at his reaction rather than the joke. I glanced at Nick, who had covered his eyes and was shaking his head too.
I gestured with my thumb towards Chris. “So, is this something I can look forward to now?�
Nick slapped my back. “‘Fraid so, mate. ‘Fraid so.�
The initial rehearsals with Sonic Idols were nerve-wracking but great fun. I somehow felt closer to Joe when I played his kit and sat where he had once sat.
After the first session was over, the guys gathered around me and there was manly hugging and back slapping again.
“Fucking awesome, dude,� Chris told me as he ruffled my hair.
“Oy, less of the head patting. I’m not a fucking dog.� I threw my hand towel at him and it landed on his head.
“Aww, jeez. You’ll be advertising hair products like Dacre soon. You blokes and your hair. Pussies.� We all laughed in good humour.
“Chris is right, Si. Joe’d be proud, mate,� Stig informed me. He was a man of few words, but I appreciated the encouragement.
“Same time tomorrow then, lads?� Nick interjected as he flung his guitar case over his shoulder.
I nodded eagerly. “Yeah. Can’t wait.�
“But tonight, we go get pissed!� Chris made a whooping noise and the other guys joined in. They all high fived and so I did the same. “Time to celebrate our arses off and drink to Joe’s memory.�
T
he management company was very supportive about me joining Sonic Idols, which was a relief, but I didn’t care for being told how to behave. They wanted to coach me on being interviewed for TV and by the press. I told them in no uncertain terms that I was there to play drums and that was it. I had no interest in being on TV.
Yeah… that lasted a week.
After the first live show we played, I had voice recorders thrust in my face by five journos at once, bombarding me with stupid questions.
“How are you feeling about replacing your brother in the band that’s tipped as the next big thing?�
“Do you feel like you’re stepping into his shoes?�
“Do you miss him?�
“Would Joe approve of you being his replacement?�
“Do you enjoy playing?�
You’d think they would have come up with something a little more original, but no. I answered in as few words as possible then pointed them towards Chris. He was the one who loved the limelight, and he was the one who the camera loved in return. I reckon the Aussie charm won over every journalist he met, and some of the journalists—the female ones—got a little more up close and personal backstage, if you get my drift. The six foot plus blonde guitarist was a pussy magnet. To say he was a male tart would be a massive understatement.
Anyway, after that experience I succumbed to some coaching by the management company. I had no idea being a rock star was so damn complicated. Here was I thinking I’d get up and bang a few song outs with my mates. But nope. There were countless things I could and couldn’t do and say. Myriad ways I could give groupies the wrong impression and a gazillion things that could get me negative press. I considered myself severely schooled.
In His Place: Sonic Idols Book #2 Page 2