Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2)

by Lily Morton

  Bram and Seth text too, but they keep it brief with funny messages which carefully avoid all mention of Sid. Charlie’s texts however have surprised me, because they’re almost brotherly, and knowing how loyal he is to Sid he’s the last person that I would have expected to enter into correspondence with me. He’s more in depth than the other boys, wanting to know if I’m eating properly and how Cameron is treating me, and offering to beat him up if he steps out of line.

  He’d also sent me through the post a load of glossy, black and white, candid, tour photographs that their official photographer and a friend of Seth’s had taken at various stages of the tour. None of the men liked posing for photos so every so often he would pop up, attend a concert, take loads of backstage photos when we weren’t paying attention, and then go out and get slaughtered with Seth.

  At first I’d shoved them back in the envelope as if I’d been burnt, but this week I’d given in and opened the envelope and now they’re scattered over the coffee table. Reaching out I gently touch the one that had instantly caught my eye. It’s of Sid and I on the bus one morning and I remember it well. He’d been writing a song and had got stuck and I’d leant over his shoulder to point out something, a chord or a phrase, I don’t recall. The photographer had caught us bathed in sunshine, Sid with a guitar on his lap and me leaning over him and we’re laughing hard at something. My eyes are almost closed and my head thrown back but it’s Sid’s face that catches the eye. He’s staring at me and his face is so soft and there’s such a look of tenderness in it that it hurts.

  At first I’d wanted to throw it away but I can’t bring myself to do it, and now it sits at night watching over me while I lie in bed. I tell myself that it’s there to remind me not to trust again, but I think really I want to believe that he felt something for me, that I hadn’t been so deluded as to offer my love to someone so heartless.

  A knock on the door interrupts my thoughts, and I hastily stuff the photos back into their envelope like a dirty little secret. “Coming,” I call out, and when I open the door I blink at a bellboy who is carrying a large box stamped heavily with fragile all over it.

  “Miss Slater. I have a package for you. It came this morning but you were out so we kept it safe for you downstairs.”

  “Thank you.” I’m mystified but I rush to get my purse so that I can tip him. I’m still not used to whether I should tip or not, so to be on the safe side I’ve tipped everyone, which is probably why I’ve had such eager and plentiful service since I’ve been here. The boy carries it into the room and sets it on a table for me, and when he’s gone I stand for a second looking at it. I can’t imagine who it’s from or what it is. There’s only a handful of people who know my address at the moment, and I can’t really imagine them sending me anything unless it’s a present from Viv or Mabe.

  Looking at the address I notice a stamp on the side Hofner, and my heart begins to beat slow and heavy like a drum. The parcel is heavily sealed with tape and looking around frantically for something to open it I exclaim in triumph when I see a travel sewing kit on the side table. The scissors are tiny but after ten minutes of concentrated hacking I manage to make an opening big enough for me to get my hands in and tear. The lid comes off displaying millions of tiny, white polystyrene balls, and gulping I plunge my hands in, siphoning them over the side like a two year old at Christmas.

  It suddenly occurs to me that this could be something nasty that one of Sid’s more lunatic fans have sent me. When gossip had got out after the tour about a possible row between us, I’d read some truly disturbed rantings online from them. I immediately slow down but then my hands encounter the hard leather of a case and I draw it out.

  For a second I crouch there holding the violin sized case in my hands, my pulse going so strongly that I can feel it thrumming in my hands and head. Slowly I flick the catch and raise the lid and I’m almost stunned by the bright flash of scarlet velvet. Inside the case resting on the velvet is my violin. I’d know it anywhere, and I run my hands shakily over the old wood, tracing the faint knicks and scars marring the wood, each one full of memories.

  Suddenly, I notice a sheet of paper resting in the lid and I gasp as I see Sid’s distinctive bold handwriting full of slashes as if the simple act of putting pen to paper is too much of a rush for him. Opening the letter I read:

  Sweetheart

  I hope this reaches you safely. If not, let me know and I’ll bollock the delivery people. This is your violin as you’ve probably guessed. I know someone at Hofner and they looked at it as a favour to me. The front is the original but the back had borne the worst of the damage so they replaced it for you. I didn’t want to tell you that I’d done this in case you got your hopes up for nothing, but they’ve done wonders with it.

  I got you a new case because the old one was so battered it was beyond repair, and I chose red velvet. Fancifully, I think it’s because red stands for a rebirth which is what I hope happens to you in your life. You, out of everyone I’ve ever met, deserves the best that life can give you. I’ll listen out every day for your name. I know it’s going to be written large.

  If you look on the back you’ll also see a new addition. I hope you don’t mind but I asked them to put this on. It’s situated where you’ll put the violin next to your body, and my dearest hope is that it stays there close to you, as a sign that maybe not all your memories are bad ones.

  You will never know how deeply I regret the way that we parted and that I never had the chance to tell you how much you have always meant to me.

  Yours

  Sid

  Gulping back tears I turn the violin over so quickly that it nearly spins out of my hands, and it takes a split second of juggling before it’s safe again. I scan the smooth surface frantically and then I see it, a tiny Beggar’s Choice emblem etched into the wood right where the base reaches the chin rest.

  I run my fingers over it wondering what this means. He says that he regrets what happened, and that I meant something to him and for a second foolish hope rises in me, but then I remember the girl and him between her legs and my hope plummets. As my dad used to say, ‘if wishes were horses, beggars would ride’. He might wish that it hadn’t ended like that, but he hasn’t actually said that he wishes it had never ended.

  However, I’m still unbelievably touched by what he’s done and I nestle the violin close, drawing the bow across the strings gently and listening to the sweet, mournful sound that floats out onto the ocean breeze.

  Sleep takes a long while to come that night.

  The next morning I’ve just finished my breakfast, which has consisted mostly of coffee as I still can’t force down much food, when my phone rings.

  “Nell,” comes Cameron’s deep tones.

  “Hi, what’s up?”

  “I’ve got a meeting this morning at the Beverley Wilshire Hotel. I want you to come down and speak to the man I’m meeting. He’s with a small record company and he’s heard some of your stuff and really wants to meet you.”

  “Why?” I ask alarmed. “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he wants to put his name on your dance card. For fuck’s sake he wants to sign you.”

  “Really?” I ask nervously.

  “Yes, really. Nell, you are the most deeply unambitious person that I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re allergic to any upswing in your career.”

  I laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’m a pain but I’m quite happy doing what we’re doing. You know just music, not the bullshit that comes with a contract. Sid says …”

  I stop dead and I hear him chuckle. “Sid who? Sid Hudson, the invisible man? The man you never mention? Now you bring him up when it’s impossible for me to talk to you.”

  “I never said that I have good timing,” I say tartly.

  He laughs. “Just get here. I’m sending a car for you. It’ll be with you in twenty minutes so look sexy baby.”

  “Baby! Look sexy!” I say indignantly. “I’m not a fuck
ing Page Three girl you know.” He rings off laughing loudly, and I involuntarily smile looking down at my phone. He’s been brilliant over the last month, like a big brother, although I’ve definitely had the feeling that if I wanted more he’d be only too happy to take our friendship further, and he’s most certainly a ladies man. They flock all over him and I can see the attraction. He’s one of the best looking men I’ve seen but I can’t feel anything for him other than a friendship, and he’s not forced the issue. I know he’s a mate of Sid’s and as he indicated in the phone call he has tried to introduce him into conversation a few times, but I’ve always clearly put up the ‘keep out’ signs.

  I change quickly into a bright pink sundress and pair it with burnt orange ballet pumps. The pink looks good against my skin which is now a lovely golden brown. I put on minimal make up and some nude lip gloss and brush my hair into a loose side bun. Grabbing my bag I slide my sunglasses on and make my way outside where with good timing my driver Kyle is waiting for me. He’s a good looking man in his 30’s who drives part time while he attends auditions for anything and everything, and I slide into the front as has become our custom. He’s got a vanilla latte waiting for me and I pick up his script.

  “Am I testing you on this today?” I ask, brandishing the script.

  “If you can. It’s for a Netflix commissioned drama,” he says, pulling smoothly out into traffic.

  Traffic is moving fast and we’ve been motoring along for a while as he acts out his scenes for me and I sip my coffee, when suddenly I hear the announcer introducing the new single from Beggar’s Choice called ‘If Only’. I’m struck dumb when Sid’s voice comes onto the radio and then I dimly remember Cameron saying something about Sid fronting a couple of their new numbers. The song is haunting and utterly beautiful, and Kyle and I remain silent as we listen to him sing about lost chances and memories, happiness and loss, and a girl that he can’t forget. However, the thing that actually strikes me dumb is that the tune is the one that he used to hum to me when we were in bed together. Finally it finishes and Kyle sighs.

  “That was different. I like it, although it’s quite sad.”

  “I know.” I reach surreptitiously under my glasses to brush away the tears hovering on my lashes. I have just raised my cup to sip my coffee when everything seems to happen in slow motion. Ahead there’s a screeching of brakes and dozens of brake lights appear like fireflies, as two cars swerve and collide together with a screech of metal like dodgem cars.

  Kyle exclaims and reaches his hand out to try and shield me, and then there’s a terrific bang and the car lurches sideways like a horse shying, and I gasp as I feel hot coffee scald my legs. There’s a muted thwap as Kyle’s air bag explodes and I have a clear second to wonder when mine is coming and then there’s a bigger bump, a grating rending of metal and then something hits my head hard. Pain explodes in my side like red lightening and then mercifully darkness falls.

  Sid

  I’m slumped on a settee in a warehouse in North London when I feel Seth slide in next to me. “What?” I ask morosely, eyeing the people setting up for the video shoot for the new single. Worryingly they’re setting up a bed, and I wrack my brain to see if I can remember the details of this shoot so that I know what I’m in for. I hope it’s not fucking artistic writhing around on a bed with a model because I’m really not in any sort of mood for that. I also don’t think that I quite look the part at the moment, and I absentmindedly stroke the rough beard that I’m rocking lately.

  I become aware that Seth is still sitting there and I wonder how long I zoned out for this time. “Yes, can I help you?” I say brusquely and wince. I really need to start talking to people better, particularly Seth who could hurt me if he was so inclined. Luckily he doesn’t look like he’s taken offence. Instead he looks nervous.

  “How are you doing?” he asks and I grimace. “Okay, okay,” he’s talking quickly now. “The boys and I had a discussion and then we voted, and as a majority we think that you should look at this.”

  “What is it?” I ask cautiously, looking at the iPad he’s proffering. “It’s not porn again is it, because I told Bram that it doesn’t help with all of life’s problems, but he won’t fucking listen.”

  “It’s not porn,” he says quickly, and I think he mutters under his breath that he wishes it was, but I dismiss the thought.

  “Well what is it then?”

  “Cameron sent it to Charlie,” he begins slowly, and before I can think about it I’ve snatched the iPad off him quicker than a fat kid taking a bar of chocolate. “Whoa whoa,” he mutters. “Wait until you see it.”

  “See what? Is it Nell? Is she okay? He’d better not be sleeping with her.” I’m so anxious I can’t get my words out quickly enough, and I’m almost stuttering.

  “Take it easy,” he says calmly. “He’s not sleeping with her so calm down. If you think about it for a minute you’d know that because he’s been sending you bulletins about how she is all along.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “One - because he sends them to Charlie as well, and two - because it’s the only point in the day that you fucking cheer up.”

  “Fuck off,” I say absentmindedly, cradling the iPad carefully. “So what is this?”

  “It’s some studio footage that he shot the other week. He didn’t send it to you because he didn’t know whether you wanted to see it or not, given the current state of affairs.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? I ask him every day how she is.”

  “I know, but he thinks what Nell thinks, in that you got tired of her and fucked her off.”

  “So why would I bother getting him to tell me how she is?”

  “He thinks that you feel guilty, and he’s leaning towards the opinion that you should.”

  “She’s getting to him.”

  “Of course she is Sid. She’s a beautiful, warm woman. If he doesn’t fall for her I’d be surprised.”

  I become aware that I’m gripping the iPad too tightly and relax my fingers. “He’d better not touch her,” I say hotly.

  “Sid, if he does what can you do? You set her free mate. I know you didn’t want to but you still did it.”

  “I did it for her.”

  “I know Sid, I know, and we all know that it hurt you to do it. That’s why we didn’t know whether this would just be salt in the wound or not. Anyway, have a look if you want to.” He pats me on the shoulder and wanders off and I swipe my hand across the screen. A video comes up instantly, paused on a shot of what I know is Cameron’s studio.

  I hesitate and then press play and watch as the camera pans slightly jerkily across the studio, zooming over various technicians fiddling with the controls on the massive recording deck. Music is playing and then I hear her, that beautiful, clear, warm voice, and I shiver because it’s as if she’s come up behind me and stroked her finger down my spine. For a second I close my eyes tightly, wishing so much that she was here next to me, that warm orange, vanilla scent of her filling my nostrils, and the warmth of her against my skin. Then I open them quickly, fearful of missing even a second of her, and then the camera turns and there she is, and I blink because she looks almost radiant.

  She’s in a booth, headphones on and singing her heart out, and I pause the video just staring at her. She’s wearing a short, grey shirt dress with orange ballet pumps and her legs are lithe and tanned. Her hair is longer and she’s gone brunette now, which I recall from looking at footage of her from a few years ago on one of my mammoth cyber stalking sessions, is her natural colour. It’s a rich brown colour with red running through it and it suits her, highlighting the golden tan of her skin and making her green eyes seem almost golden.

  Joy fills me at the same time as despair. Joy because somewhere in the world she’s existing and she’s happy and productive and healthy. Despair because she’s not with me and never will be again. It’s only on my second minute of obsessively analysing her appearance that I note the signs of strain. She’s lost t
he much needed weight that she gained when I was with her and constantly feeding her. Now, she’s a lot thinner and it shows in her hollowed cheekbones, and I wonder if anyone concerns themselves with her health, or if she’s alone again. There are dark shadows under her eyes and her full lips are drawn in slightly as if she’s under some great strain.

  I reach out my hand and trace my fingers over her lips, distantly noting that my fingers are shaking, and then I press play watching her finish her song and curtsey mockingly at the applause, remembering so clearly how she’d done that at her audition. How can someone that I met less than a year ago have such an effect on the rest of my life?

  The video finishes and I watch it again and then again until movement alerts me to the fact that the rest of the boys are standing watching me, and I feel my cheeks redden. Attack is the best form of defence so I instantly snap. “What the fuck? It’s like being in London Zoo. Haven’t you fuckers got anything better to do?”

  Ignoring me Seth settles back down on the settee, while Charlie and Bram take an arm each.

  “You okay mate?” Charlie asks.

  “Will everyone just stop fucking asking me that. I’m fine and no, I’m not using, if fine is actually now a euphemism in our world for being high.” That was uncalled for and I open my mouth to apologise when I see him flinch, but Seth forestalls me.

  “So let me get this straight. You’re at the lowest you’ve ever been, right? You look terrible. You’ve been wearing those clothes for at least three days, and you smell.”

  “Fuck me. If this is an intervention you lot should really practise your bedside manners.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Yes Seth, I am currently at rock bottom. Happy now?”

  “Actually yes!”