Swan Song

by Tom Butler

Without shouting he said, ‘No one’s going anywhere and mind the language you two.’

  ‘If he wants to leave, let him,’ an unrepentant Luke grizzled.

  Sylvia’s voice rose up from the kitchen, demanding that they refrain from winding each other up, and Luke thought about what Noah had said about what went on when he lay alone in the shared bedroom. In an instant, he took a vow of silence, and likewise, Noah climbed back in his shell. And so, as usual for the other siblings, it had been a storm in a teacup, and they simply waited for it to die down, until the next time.

  It was the summer of 2011, and it was a bad day for Bad Day. They had lasted for over two years, but there had been some egotistical squabbling over the kind of band they were purporting to be, so it ended in acrimony. Noah, now fifteen and having upgraded his guitar, had been the youngest member, and though Ashley had told him repeatedly he could do a lot better, not being in a band anymore was in his own words, ‘Total shit’.

  It had provided him with a purpose in life and an escape route. Without them he felt lost. He moped around for days. By his own admission, he was no good at selling himself, and with the school beginning to see him as a hopeless case, he got less and less support from its music department which was suddenly inundated with budding rock stars who did apply themselves properly and did complete all of their course work.

  Noah, already with a poor attendance record, bunked off school at will, and apart from Ashley and on rare occasions James, he confided in no one, his whole demeanour giving Sylvia and Phillip that worse of all parental feelings, the feeling of failure. And the sense that no matter how you delivered it “tough love” just didn’t work.

  On a wet Sunday afternoon, two weeks after Bad Day had split, something truly ironic occurred. On one of those rare occasions that Noah had deemed to tolerate his brother’s company, they sat in Ashley’s bedroom listening to heavy metal music and generally making as much noise as they were allowed, given it was a Sunday. It was as well that all the windows were closed with Noah giving vent to his frustration and extracting distorted sounds from his guitar and James, who had brought over his keyboard, joining in.

  Unknown to Noah, James had scribbled down some ideas for a song based on a poem he had tried writing in an English lesson at school, but when he turned to the others and innocently said, ‘Why don’t we write a song of our own?’ their immediate response was to laugh out loud.

  In fact, they fell about laughing, and Noah’s laughter quickly turned to ridicule and derision.

  ‘That’s a pathetic idea Bro, you ain’t got a clue. Leave it to the pros,’ he said, adding, ‘Shit man, what goes on in that head of yours?’

  But James was unperturbed. He had already added some more lyrics to what he had written down and had plenty of others bouncing around in his head, so, undaunted, he began to play a basic melody and sing the words. He was twelve-years-old, and his voice, in Noah’s opinion, was too much of a high-pitched screech. It was rather like the wailing of a love sick Tom cat late at night.

  Underestimate me at your peril, James thought inwardly as he persevered. Listen to the words for god’s sake because they mean something to both of us. Stop taking the piss for once in your life and listen. At least try stretching your imagination and putting some music to them.

  But all Noah and Ashley did was to try to drown him out, and they could tell that he was becoming more and more frustrated with them for mucking about.

  He carried on singing and got louder and louder which only generated even more noise and got them a dressing down from Ashley’s mother who threatened to eject them and send them out into the rain if they didn’t quieten down.

  ‘Why don’t we write a song of our own,’ Noah mimicked James, sarcastically. ‘Why don’t you piss off, bro. Go and play hide and seek with the girls.’

  It wasn’t often that James swore, but he was on the cusp now as his brother waved two fingers in the air, very much in his direction. It looked likely he would take his piece of paper and his keyboard and head straight for the door, but Ashley, used to acting as peacemaker, stopped him in his tracks and said, ‘Hey you two, give it a rest. Here James, let’s have a look, come on, show me, go on.’

  James now seemed reluctant to share with them what he had written down, but before he could raise a protest, Noah had snatched the paper from his brother’s hand.

  ‘Give it back,’ James said, unaware he was shouting. ‘Give it back or else,’ he repeated.

  ‘Or else what,’ Noah snarled back at him. ‘Hey, what the fuck,’ he exclaimed. ‘I can’t read this. Who taught you to write like that, little brother, a fucking dyslexic spider?’

  ‘Chill you two, let me,’ Ashley snapped, grabbing the paper. He then tried deciphering it but gave up too, handing it back to James who took a big breath and cleared his throat.

  ‘Just listen. If you think it’s crap, then OK, I’ll go,’ he said.

  Noah grunted, ‘We’re all ears bro, it better be good. What’s this fucking masterpiece of yours called?’

  ‘It’s called Peaceful Man, and it goes something like this.’

  James tried again, half singing, half talking the words, and it didn’t take long for the penny to drop and for Noah to know who his brother was singing about and who the Peaceful Man he referred to in the song was. A few of the words made him catch his breath, and though he thought it was against all of the rules for a fifteen-year-old boy with a rock music mentality to cry, there was a definite tear forming in the corner of an eye. He wiped it away and hoped no one had noticed. Showing emotion was a weakness, and he just wouldn’t subscribe to that. But James’s words had certainly struck a nerve and had rendered his big brother speechless.

  ’Tell me why did you what you did and why the days are so long,

  What made you do such a thing when you knew such a thing was wrong,

  When all the lights go out and there are only stars to guard you at night,

  The Peaceful Man inside you will make everything seem alright.

  Tell the moon above that it has nothing to fear from the demons within,

  Make the world understand and bring back the light to banish the sin,

  The day of reckoning has come and is no longer an illusion,

  Let the Peaceful Man carry the torch for those who seek absolution.

  At peace with the moon,

  At peace with the sky.

  Peaceful Man,

  Please tell me why.

  At peace with the comets,

  And the stars up above.

  Peaceful Man,

  Surround me with Love.

  Ashley sat on the edge of his bed, rather in awe of somebody so young coming up with something so heavy and heavenly. He could find nothing to say, and suddenly, a much more amicable Noah was humming to himself and strumming on his guitar like it was meant to be.

  James was twelve, and it was ridiculous for someone at that age to be thinking up stuff like that. It just wasn’t natural. At that age, Ashley had barely been able to write down an understandable sentence, and he had hated English anyway. And James must have swallowed a dictionary to be able to do it. How else would he think to come up with words like “banish” and “absolution” for God’s sake. And spell them right.

  As well as being dumbstruck by what he had heard, he, like Noah, knew what had inspired James, and it made him think on. How would he have felt if his dad had killed his mom with a kitchen knife nearly four years ago and then gone to prison. Where might he be now, and what would be his state of mind?

  He had grandparents on both sides and plenty of Aunts and Uncles because his parents came from big families, so surely, he wouldn’t have been taken into care and fostered like Noah, James and Mary had. But what if no one had wanted him as their child, his mind raced. And how would he have coped with the cruel bullies at school like Noah had done? And had James and Mary had to face the same, his imagination wondered.

  He was brought back to the present by Noah’s contin
uous and audibly louder humming and strumming that had merged into a somewhat more upbeat version of James’ rather nervous and monotonous first rendition. As James caught on to the new rhythm, Ashley was witnessing a rare sight indeed. Brothers in harmony.

  And not wanting to be to be left out, he began drumming a beat on his bedside table with two chop sticks he had brought home last week from an ‘Eat as much as you like’ Chinese restaurant. It was spontaneous. It was fun.

  No matter how rough and out of tune it sounded, there was the beginning of something, and even though Noah and James weren’t so stupid as to think that this moment would last for very long, it had brought them together, and, for a short time, at least, they were as one, their heads bowed and almost touching, their instruments and voices speaking the same language, their minds for once synchronised.

  And so with fine-tuning, it was plausible that a very emotive song had been born, and that maybe one day, Peaceful Man would become a genuine, classic rock anthem. And then again, bearing in mind the innermost darkness and realism of the subject matter, it might never see the light of day. They both knew that life could be cruel and packed full of uncertainties. And they knew that nothing could be taken for granted.

  ******

  Chapter Five: Autumn 2006

  Natasha Gibson was a University Graduate looking for work and becoming cynical about life. Two days ago, she had chopped off practically all of her beautiful, long auburn hair in an effort to re-invent herself, and Daniel Sutton had barely recognised her. They had met up for another clear-the-air meeting instigated by him as he tried to broker some kind of reconciliation.

  He had callously lied to Angelica Swan to get her into bed as Natasha hadn’t walked out on him at all. He had used the sympathy card, and it had worked for his own gratification, though he had genuinely thought that Angelica was incredible for her age and hugely talented. And she had certainly been good in the bedroom even though it had all happened so quickly.

  At the time, Natasha had been concentrating on her finals at Sheffield University, and the couple, having agreed to give that their priority, had cooled their ongoing relationship though they were still very much an item. She had only stayed in Leicestershire at weekends and during holidays for the past three years but, despite the odd temptation, had remained faithful to Daniel and often referred to him as her soul mate.

  But not the same could be said of Daniel. Unknown to both her and Angelica and during the course of those three years, his “little boy lost” chat up lines which made him out to be both vulnerable and alone had secured him five other one night stands, all prior to Angelica and all of them ending up in the bedroom and the bed he shared with Natasha at weekends. Presumably, he had convinced all of his conquests of his recent ‘single’ status or at least played the sympathy card to full effect as he had done with Angelica.

  He had covered his tracks well, or so he thought. How was he to know a dodgy clasp on an earring would expose him, and Natasha would drag a confession from her “soul mate” and learn of his “only” indiscretion? Or “one moment of weakness” as he so naïvely put it, hoping the others would remain secrets never to be discovered.

  Subsequently, Natasha Gibson was hurt, inconsolable, unforgiving. She felt badly betrayed and hostile. He tried everything in the book of excuses to make her see that he still loved her. That he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and raise children with her. And she had listened and tried to understand, she really had.

  Often she held debates with herself, and this was such a time. Should I forgive him, put it down to spending so much time away from him and move on, she pondered. After all, I was sorely tempted myself by a randy lecturer named George who practically had my knickers off before I thought about Daniel and asked him to stop trying to seduce me in his car after a University social gathering. Some men have a way about them when it comes to getting what they want, and in that respect, George was a class act. Although I had said no, he still had a hand between my legs and a glint in his eye.

  ‘You must stop, I don’t want this,’ I appealed to him, thinking I might have to resort to causing him actual bodily harm.

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that,’ he had said in protestation. ‘I’m not just after a quick fuck, honest to God. I really want to get to know you better, and gone are the days when you risk being locked in the Tower of London for fraternising with a student.’

  ‘I already have a boyfriend, and you were made aware of that,’ I reaffirmed. ‘And besides, don’t you have a wife and kids?’

  Was that the killer question in respect of the ardour he was showing me, I thought as I came back to real time.

  She remembered how George had looked back at her sheepishly and said, ‘Yes, that’s true, but things aren’t what they seem. It’s not something I talk about.’

  Was he saying he wasn’t with his wife anymore or just telling her he didn’t love her? He certainly had not given up entirely on coaxing Natasha to have sex with him, and this made her wonder if all randy, sex-starved lecturers were all such persistent buggers.

  He was certainly testing her powers of concentration, not to mention, her resolve. ‘Well, I have a pretty solid relationship with somebody, and I can’t put that at risk,’ she told him, unaware of Daniel’s roving eye and wandering hands. At this, and reluctantly, George backed off, saying it was a pity, and two days later, she saw him driving his car with another student, Alice Porter, in the passenger seat, both wearing very contented smiles on their faces. But not once did Natasha think she’d had a lucky escape. She felt strangely jealous.

  I can’t believe I said what I said to him, especially after what I now know. She was doing some more serious talking to herself and going over and over it in her mind. Why didn’t I just let George, the randy lecturer, screw me? Why did I go telling him things between Daniel and me were good? And why does shit always happen?

  Some months later and still smarting from being cheated on, Natasha Gibson was on the warpath. Only now, she was minus most of her hair and much of her dignity, and above all else, she was hell bent on some form of revenge. A new year had begun, and it was time she properly got her head sorted as well as the man who was deluded enough to still think she held a candle for him. Until she resolved everything that bothered her, her life was still on hold, so fully focussed and raring to go, she let her stubborn single-mindedness drive her on to accomplish her dastardly mission.

  They met up again at Weatherspoons in the City Centre which was once their regular rendezvous. Daniel chose it deliberately. As neither of them drove when they first dated, it was central and close to the station. After she had plucked up the courage to ask him out, theirs was a slowly simmering romance rather than a full on passionate relationship in the beginning which seemed to suit them both. Then there were a few lust-fuelled interludes at weekends in the comfort of his apartment, and these had helped cement them as a couple.

  His fiery temperament was sometimes an issue, but moving in with Daniel was a whole lot preferable to being continually monitored and judged by overbearing parents who would simply not allow her to grow up. It was a shock to her to find out they actually liked Daniel when they first met him, thinking he was special because he dared to be different to other boys by expressing himself through modern art. Booze, fags and football were never on his agenda then, and for some reason, his relatively limited aspirations didn’t appear to bother Mr and Mrs Gibson too much. Mr Gibson even started calling him Sooty which really pissed off his indignant daughter.

  However, they ceased to like him when Natasha suddenly emptied the contents of her wardrobe and announced she was moving to the other side of the city to be with her Dan, as she then preferred to call him. Why would she do that? Why with very little warning would she leave them on their own? And how on earth would she cope and look after herself away from them?

  Suddenly the Gibson’s world changed, and it felt like Daniel had stolen their daughter away from them and left them only
with memories. How could he do that after they had been so warm-hearted to him, not once questioning his somewhat laid-back lifestyle or interrogating him regarding his prospects and what the future might or might not hold in store for him?

  He was now making one last bid to re-engage with Natasha, but he saw almost another person waiting for him, sitting on a low leather-look sofa, already half way through a glass of red wine and not looking at all nervous. The hair he had once loved running his hands through had gone and the rather heavier than usual and noticeably darker make up gave her a sharper, near gothic look he found slightly disturbing. Perhaps, he thought, she was making a statement.

  ‘When did you decide to do…you look so different,’ he stumbled over his words which was unlike him, but for her was the desirable effect.

  ‘Two days ago, out with the old, in with the new,’ she forced herself to smile.

  Daniel preferred the old, but he knew he had lost any control he might have had over her.

  He said quite loudly, ‘I miss you,’ as he stood surveying her. ‘I miss you a lot. More than I can say.’

  He wanted her to reply the same and waited, but her head was elsewhere.

  ‘And do you miss her too?’ she asked almost with the same savagery as she had the last time they tried talking.

  He moved closer to her and tried conversing in not much more than a whisper. But he should have known that Wetherspoons was not at all a whispering place. It was full of the noise of people talking, and he found himself having to backtrack and repeat himself.

  ‘I’ve told you how sorry I am. That there really was nothing between me and this other woman, and it was all one huge mistake, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life especially if it meant losing you.’

  There was nothing new. No new angle. Her Dan was desperate to get her back, but she wasn’t going to fall for it. Rather than watch him squirm, she wanted answers. He had always refused to divulge who the other woman was, and, unknown to him, that was the only reason she had agreed to come.