Love Song

by Sophia Bennett

  ‘Stay with me,’ he said. ‘Talk to me.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About death.’

  Oh. Maybe not. Much as I wanted to help him, I wasn’t going to spend my night feeding his dark obsession. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.

  ‘I could read to you,’ I suggested. ‘It might take your mind off things.’

  ‘Read to me?’ His lip began to curl into its familiar sneer.

  ‘Yes.’ I shrugged. ‘I do it at home.’ To my little brothers and sisters, I might have added, but I didn’t.

  Angus frowned. ‘Read me what?’

  This was tricky. With Josh and the twins, I read The Gruffalo, over and over. Ariel had loved a book called Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Neither of them sounded very Angus, and anyway, I doubted the hotel would have a copy of either. I thought of the two old and battered books in my room right now. One was an anthology of love poetry, which was hardly appropriate. The other was a possibility.

  ‘Well, at the moment I’m reading Far From the Madding Crowd,’ I said doubtfully. It was my revision book. ‘It’s about a girl called Bathsheba Everdene who—’

  He held his hand up. ‘I know it. Thomas Hardy. Read it a long time ago.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Don’t look so surprised. After Jamie and I got kicked out of school, we read all the time. We competed: who could read Shakespeare the fastest … Dickens ... Hardy too ... I like that one. Crazy story. Loads of people die.’

  ‘Fictionally,’ I pointed out, bearing in mind our earlier conversation.

  He laughed. ‘Yeah. Fictionally. Whatever. It can’t be worse than arguing with Steve about sleeping pills. I liked her in the film, too. Go and get Bathsheba Everdene.’

  He motioned imperiously for me to do his bidding. I wondered whether he expected me to curtsey on the way out. They should bottle rock-star arrogance and sell it. But at least he wasn’t breaking things.

  Back outside, Steve was anxiously waiting.

  ‘You’re going to do what?’ he asked.

  ‘Read to him.’

  ‘And he calmed down just like that? Are you magic?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I smiled. ‘I come from a big family. I’m used to …’

  ‘… brats?’

  ‘Children. On a bad day.’

  He grinned. ‘In this business, we like to call them artists. Do you have your phone on you?’

  I patted my pocket.

  ‘Call me if there’s a problem. And Paul’s here if you need him.’ He indicated the guard in position at the end of the corridor, who acknowledged me with a nod.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Do you want someone to help you? Me? Housekeeping?’

  Strangely enough, I felt safe with Angus, and he seemed to feel safe with me.

  ‘We’ll be fine.’

  *

  I collected the novel from my room and took it back to the suite. I sat on an armchair and read aloud while Angus lay on the sofa and listened with his eyes closed. For chapter after chapter, we followed Bathsheba Everdene managing her sheep, falling for the wrong men and making them unhappy. Slowly, Angus’s muscles relaxed. He stopped scowling. After almost an hour, he stretched and announced he was ready for bed.

  I looked at my watch. It was two in the morning. I got up to go, but he frowned at me.

  ‘You said you’d stay.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘You were right. I don’t feel so … I might want you to read some more later.’

  ‘But where would I …?’

  He looked around and indicated a spot on the floor of his sitting room, just beyond the bedroom door.

  ‘If you’re there, I can call you.’

  Oh, nice. Just like some kind of medieval servant-girl. I looked at his face again. It was still taut around the edges. The dark smudges under his eyes stained his cheeks like purple bruises.

  ‘OK,’ I sighed. ‘If it helps.’

  ‘Yeah, well … good.’

  While he got ready for bed in the room next door, I raided the closets for every spare pillow and blanket I could find. I made a nest for myself out of these and some sofa cushions, near the door, as I’d promised. It reminded me of the nights I’d slept next to the twins after Mum took them in and they were taking a while to settle. Then I’d only had one of Dad’s old, smelly sleeping bags from his Massive Kegs days. This was much better.

  Wrapped in a hotel robe, Angus came over to inspect the nest.

  ‘That looks pretty cosy.’

  ‘Actually, it does.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll stay there?’

  ‘I promise.’

  About two hours later, I was asleep in my comfy blanket-nest when I thought I heard shouting. Indistinct words, loud and desperate. I called out to him:

  ‘I’m here. It’s Nina. Everything’s OK.’

  But the noise continued. Tentatively, I turned the bedroom door handle and pushed it open. There was a little light creeping in through the curtains from the city that never sleeps, and I could just make Angus out, sprawled under the duvet. I crept in further. He was lying on his back, in a cold sweat, eyes open but seeing nothing. Every now and then his body convulsed and he cried out something incomprehensible. He looked terrified. I wondered how often he spent his nights this way.

  Carefully, I climbed on to the bed beside him, keeping the duvet between us, and put my arm around him. It was what I’d done for Josh a dozen times.

  Instinctively, Angus’s body turned towards me, as Josh’s had. His breathing calmed a little. He put an arm around me too.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I murmured. ‘You’re safe. I’ll stay with you.’

  Gradually the convulsions stopped. His panicked breaths grew calmer. Soon he was sleeping deeply, but when I tried to slip away, his arm stayed wrapped around me. I stayed where I was and watched him sleep. Poor Angus. Girls threw themselves at him on a daily basis, and he was the loneliest person I knew.

  I woke up early.

  Sunlight was filtering through a gap in the curtains. The snake-circled, sculpted arm of the hottest rock guitarist in the world was still lying across my chest, making it hard to move. I lay there for a while, focusing on the surreal-ness of the moment. Rock stars snore. They also drool slightly. But they look adorable with their dark hair resting on the pillow, and their lips, for once, not curled into a sarcastic smile.

  Angus stirred, opened his eyes, saw me lying next to him and looked surprised. His eyes drifted down to the duvet tucked chastely between us, then flickered with alarm.

  ‘Um, so did we …? Did anything? Did I …?’

  I gave him a ‘You’re not all that,’ eye-roll.

  He laughed. Dammit – if he wasn’t a rock star, I could imagine being friends with this boy.

  ‘We did nothing,’ I assured him, getting up and slipping my shoes back on. ‘You called out. I kept you company. End of story.’

  He yawned and stretched. ‘That’s the first good night’s sleep I remember in I don’t know how long.’ Then he looked at me from under his thick, dark lashes. ‘Don’t tell anyone, though.’

  ‘About Thomas Hardy?’

  ‘About what we … didn’t … um, you know. I have my reputation to consider.’

  ‘And I have mine,’ I retorted sharply. ‘I’m not some cliché rock-star groupie.’

  ‘True. Although, round here that’s not considered such a bad thing.’ He saw my stony face. ‘But – sure. Whatever you say, Nina.’

  He’d remembered my name, even. We were making progress.

  My phone buzzed in my trouser pocket. I didn’t need to check what it said. ‘Sigrid needs me. Gotta go.’

  ‘Good luck with that.’

  He grinned and put his hands behind his head, which somehow emphasized his perfectly bulging biceps. Focus on the face, Nina. On the face.

  ‘Goodbye, then.’

  ‘Be good.’

  I smiled. ‘Aren’t I always?’

  I
quickly put away all traces of my blanket nest from last night. Back in my room, I checked my face in the mirror to make sure I wiped off all traces of a smile from that too.

  Sigrid gave my shaggier-than-usual hair and more-smudged-than-usual eyeliner a second glance.

  ‘Did you sleep OK?’ she asked, sharply.

  ‘Perfectly,’ I assured her.

  ‘Good. Because we’ve got a busy day.’

  She didn’t refer to the night before again, and I didn’t mention it either. It was probably easiest if she didn’t know anything. There was enough bad blood between her and Angus already.

  The rest of the day was, as usual, madness.

  After hair and make-up in the hotel, the boys had an interview to do at the Rockefeller Center. The ride through the city streets to the TV studios required a police escort because of the vans of TV cameras and paparazzi trying to get pictures of them all. Getting out of the car required facing a wall of noise. Our view as we went inside was a row of security men’s backsides as they kept the crowds at bay. Still jetlagged from the flight, and trying to function on not enough sleep, I had to remind myself more than once what we were supposed to be doing here.

  Even though it involved copious amounts of lying, I was starting to admire the boys for coping as well as they did. Inside the studios, George managed not to look as hung-over as he had done half an hour ago, when he’d nearly thrown up in the limo. Connor distracted attention from him by saying seductive things about American girls and making the audience swoon. Angus didn’t mention his nightmares, or broken furniture, or his list of famous people who’d been shot in this city. Jamie answered each old, familiar question about Sigrid and the wedding as if he’d never been asked it before. She waved at him coyly from the audience, while a camera zoomed in on her loved-up face.

  *

  Afterwards, there was a photoshoot in Central Park. I took pictures of Sigrid for her Instagram account, while the boys larked around on the official photographer’s instructions. Crowds of paparazzi clustered round to take pictures of their own. The boys were surrounded by a cage of cameramen constantly shouting, vying for their attention. It made me think of the animals in the nearby zoo.

  I was grateful when the time came to go to the waiting limos. At least there would be a little peace and privacy – once security had rushed us past the sea of waiting hands nearby, reaching out to try and touch the boys.

  But in the rush to get to the venue for the sound check, Sigrid became separated from Jamie and by some hideous accident, we ended up in a car with Angus. She sat, rigid and uncomfortable, on the seat behind the driver, while Angus and I instinctively sat at the back, as far away from her as we could.

  As we drove away, I stared at the yellow-taxi-speckled traffic, the grand glass-fronted shops and busy sidewalks, drinking it all in.

  ‘First time in New York?’ Angus asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, not looking round – not wanting to miss a moment.

  ‘You should skip the sound check,’ he said. ‘Go up the Empire State Building. See the Statue of Liberty. I did it once with Jamie. Our first trip. We had about ten dollars in our pockets and played every bar that would take us. Best holiday we ever had.’

  I turned to smile at him. ‘New York’s not all bad, then.’

  ‘Nah. Actually, I miss it. Been back a few times on tour, but like the man said, these days it’s a car and room and room and a car and a cheese sandwich.’

  That wasn’t exactly how I’d describe their life on tour, but I knew what he meant. It was relentless.

  ‘Which man?’ I asked. ‘No, let me guess: John Lennon.’

  Angus raised an eyebrow. ‘Got it in one. But it doesn’t have to be that way for you.’

  ‘I’m afraid Nina’s busy this afternoon,’ Sigrid cut in icily. ‘She’s working. She doesn’t have time to be a tourist. Phone.’

  This last word was another instruction. I was getting better at spotting them. I reached into her bag and placed it in her waiting hand.

  Angus watched me obey her every command with amused detachment. ‘But you’re coming to the show, right? Frankly, tonight we are what’s happening in New York.’ He gave me his arrogant grin. For some reason, it didn’t annoy me as much as it used to.

  ‘I – I don’t think so.’ I glanced at Sigrid, who was glowering.

  ‘Oh? Why?’ he smirked. ‘Don’t you like us?’

  ‘There’s more to life than a bunch of rock songs,’ Sigrid said testily, tapping away at her phone with fingernails like talons. She was trying to look busy to impress him again, and it was almost sad. She didn’t explain what I’d be doing instead tonight. Probably packing. She’d brought a lot of party outfits that were currently scattered all over her suite.

  Angus didn’t bother to reply. He wasn’t going to waste his breath arguing with the Queen of Evil about her assistant. But when he stretched his arm along the back of the seat, and his fingertips happened to touch my hair, he didn’t flinch and pull away. I could feel them resting near my shoulder.

  He wasn’t trying anything on – just getting comfortable. But I sensed that I’d been forgiven for who my boss was. Maybe things would start getting easier now.

  New York was quickly turning into my favourite tour date. So good, in fact, that I even got an hour to myself after all, taking pictures of cafes and galleries in East Village while Sigrid had her face ‘plumped to pillow freshness’ at the best secret skin clinic in the city.

  When everyone left the hotel to head to Madison Square Garden for the concert, I assumed that I’d have Sigrid and Jamie’s suite to myself for a while. I was dancing around to the TV again when I was surprised by a knock at the door. Oliver walked in with a strange, conspiratorial smile on his face, accompanied by three hotel maids.

  ‘I’ve brought you some help,’ he said, introducing them.

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll be OK,’ I assured him. ‘I’m used to doing this by now. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the venue?’

  ‘I am,’ he agreed, ‘but I’ve come to get you.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Angus asked around. He tells me you haven’t seen a show yet. Is that true?’

  I shrugged. ‘Well, you know … Sigrid keeps me busy. She likes everything to be done the way she—’

  ‘That’s insane. Look, I know you work for her, but I work for the band, and in Rock, Paper, Scissors, Angus is the rock, and she’s the scissors. Which means he wins. I’m taking you now. You’re meeting her at the airport afterwards anyway, right? She’ll never know.’

  ‘But there’s a spreadsheet …’

  ‘Ignore the spreadsheet. Who unpacks for her?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘So …? I promise we’ll take care of everything.’

  He held out his hand. I grinned and took it. I was on tour with a rock band. What else was I supposed to do?

  An hour later, I was inside Madison Square Garden, near the VIP section, not too far from the stage. The place was huge, and bright, and loud. Thousands and thousands of fans sat in rows that seemed to stretch up as high as a skyscraper. The people at the top seemed so small and far away they were like pixels on a screen. Nearer, I spotted lots of faces painted blue and yellow (like Ariel with her hair, they were confused about Jamie’s favourite colour), and others painted with the band’s target logo. Some were happy and others were already crying.

  The lights went down. A disembodied voice simply said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen … The Point!’ and the stadium was suddenly filled with a vivid red and blue laser display.

  The crowd went WILD.

  I could hardly even think over the sound of the screaming as everyone watched the empty stage. The thud, thud, thud of an electronic drumbeat over the sound system was so loud I could actually feel it in my ribcage. Lasers swept the stage and the crowd and the noise kept building until it was a full-bodied ROAR.

  It was huge, and I was just a tiny part of it. So this was w
hat I’d been missing.

  When the band finally hit the stage, the screaming was already so loud it couldn’t possibly get any louder – and yet somehow it did. George raised his drumsticks in acknowledgement. SCREAM. Connor slung his bass strap over his shoulder. SCREAM. Angus and Jamie walked on together, their arms around each other’s shoulders.

  I was thinking how good it was to see them not arguing for once. Under the lights you would never know their relationship was fractured. The crowd were clearly just thinking OH MY GOD ANGUS AND JAMIE – SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to hear properly again.

  Jamie walked up to the mic and instantly, they were into the first number. It was ‘Kiss It Better’ – one of Ariel’s favourites. At least, I thought so. It was almost impossible to hear it over the sound of the crowd. Luckily, three vast LED screens lit up – one at the back and one each side of the stage – so we could see Jamie’s face, blown up to the size of a building, and work out what he was singing from the way his lips were moving.

  When the song was over, he walked to the front and grinned into the crowd.

  ‘Hello New York!’

  AAH! AAH! AAAH! AAAAH! AAAAAAH! I gave in and screamed along.

  ‘It’s good to be back in the temple of rock and roll. This one’s for you.’

  Eventually the screaming died down to a manageable level, and you could hear what they were playing. Now it was ‘Unlock Me’, one of the songs I’d always liked from their first album. As Jamie reached the chorus, some of the girls around me grabbed each other and hugged.

  I knew that feeling. Special memories. Captured moments. I wished Ariel could be beside me, because every note would be special for her. She’d be hugging me all the time. I took out my phone and videoed Jamie in close-up for her.

  Two songs later, he strapped on an acoustic guitar and walked up to the mic to sing ‘Eden’. This time I froze. That break-up song again.