by John Harding
“No,” Jack interrupted. “You're right. I can't feel sorry for myself forever.”
“No,” Claire muttered. She bowed her head and glanced around the room. “And if music used to make you happy, perhaps cleaning it could mean a new start,” she chirped optimistically. “I mean, if it made you happy once then you could find other people to do it with. And then you'll forget about her. Surely?”
Jack sighed. “I don't think it's that easy.”
“You should try,” Claire asserted and licked her lips. “No harm in trying is there?”
Jack snorted. “Maybe,” he begrudgingly admitted.
“But first, this place needs a really good clean! Are there any dusters in here?” She opened the door to the toilet and gagged; the water had dried up and the smell from the sewer had punctuated the air. She flushed it immediately and turned to her friend. “If I give you a list of everything I need, cleaning product-wise, would you know where to find them in the house? I'll clean it as a thank you for letting me use it, but I would like to start tonight, if you don't mind. You know where stuff is kept?”
“Yeah,” Jack promised and then shrugged. “Well maybe.”
“I need polish, duster, cleaning spray, cloth, vacuum cleaner, air freshener …”
“Can you write this down?” Jack asked with a smile. “I'll only forget.”
“Sure,” Claire said with a smile.
“And I know we’ve got a bottle of Pimms in the cupboard. I’ll bring that too,” he added with a grin. “All this talk about exes, I think I need a drink!”
Chapter VII
“What's this?” Claire asked as she straightened the mixing desk and Jack passed her a silver metal object.
“It's a key,” he said with a grin, stating the obvious.
“Yes I can see that,” she replied. “I am not blind. What's it for?”
Jack hesitated. “It's a front door key. A key to this place.”
“Why do I need that?”
He shrugged. “Well, when your friend is here, you won't want me around and, well, you can come and go. If you leave it in the plant pots at the bottom of the steps, I'll pick it up when you've finished. Just send me a text.”
“Oh,” Claire muttered in a disappointed voice. “I kind of wanted you here to work the bloody knobs and buttons. I can't do this stuff. What do you think I am, a bloody DJ?” He smiled, and she stepped back. “If you want to, that is. You sort of sounded like you wanted to earlier.”
“Sure,” he agreed and looked around the spotless room.
“Was it ever this clean?”
“It never smelt of peach,” he teased the buxom girl as he gently nodded. Posters of his band had been replaced with photographs of musical instruments that Claire had purchased from the market, as well as an LP that she had spray-painted gold and fixed to a frame. It looked smart and semi-professional, and the charming girl squeezed his hand; it had taken her three evenings, but they both agreed it looked fantastic.
“Is it right for banishing memories?” She asked with a playful smile that caused Jack to grimace and then reluctantly concede that it was possible he could forget Ellie. “OK, when is best for Paige to join us?”
“Paige?”
“My friend! You know, the singer?”
“Oh,” Jack cried as he realised what Claire was asking. “I thought your friend was a boyfriend?”
Claire laughed. “I told you, I am single! No, Paige, she's umm … I met her on holiday, and we won the karaoke contest, I thought I told you about her.”
“Yeah, but I didn't realise she was local.”
“She's north Croydon.”
“Oh,” he muttered. “That's the dangerous bit.”
Claire laughed. “Yes, it's the dangerous bit, but she's not dangerous. Well, not that dangerous.” She giggled and pursed her lip. “So when's best for you?”
“Well, how about all day Saturday. Mum and Dad fancy a long weekend away or even Wednesday afternoon. I finish College at twelve, I could be here for twelve thirty.”
“OK, I'll ring 'er,” Claire muttered and then swore when the dreaded “out of credit” message appeared.
“Just use mine,” he offered and Claire dialled Paige's number into Jack's brand new smartphone. She had a brief conversation with her talented friend before turning to her host. “She says could we have a look on Wednesday and record on Saturday?” Claire asked, and Jack nodded. “She sounds excited. But then, she always sounds excited.”
“Yeah, sure,” he agreed cheerfully. “Why not? I'll get some Pimms in for Saturday!” Claire groaned and warned Paige before passing the phone back to Jack. “Christ, I really gotta go,” she announced in a stressed voice when she glanced at the clock. “I'll be late home otherwise.”
“I could give you a lift if you want?” She looked at him, and he held out her keys containing a thick, chunky, car key.
“Let me guess, an eighteenth birthday present?”
“It's only a small car,” he said defensively. “Nothing too flash, just a BMW 1 Series.” Claire blew air through her teeth, but Jack insisted and after locking the studio, unlocked a three-month old black hatchback in front of the garage. “Your family is crazy,” she muttered, but Jack just snorted.
“Nah, it's only a 1 Series. There's a guy at college who has a Ferrari as an eighteenth. Now that's crazy. What car do you have?”
“I don't,” Claire told him. “I can't afford one.”
“Oh,” Jack muttered as his car turned into the private road. “It beats public transport. My car was in the garage a couple of weeks ago, and it was a nightmare.”
* * * * *
“This was a birthday present?” Paige asked incredulously as she wandered up and down the recording studio. “A birthday present, you get a flat to play in? This isn't much smaller than my home.” Jack smiled nervously as Paige spied the equipment and grunted. “And this is better stocked than a branch of Curry's. Wow! Just … wow! And you'd let us use this all day Saturday?”
“Yeah,” Jack shrugged.
Paige scowled at him. “How much?”
“How much would you pay?” He asked and chortled when he saw the expression on Paige's face. “Nothing.”
“There's got to be a catch. You guys don't expect something for nothing. There's no such thing as a free lunch. What ya after? Is it Claire?”
“No,” Jack said immediately and glanced at the cleaner's daughter. “If you insist, a kiss at the end would be much appreciated. From you, not Claire.” Paige's scowl deepened, but he clarified his lecherous comment with “on the cheek of course.”
Paige hummed. “OK. Next question. How the be-jesus does all this stuff work?”
Claire laughed, and the two girls looked at Jack. “I guess, I should show you. I promised Claire I would.”
“Yeah. Or you could just do it?” Paige teased. “I reckon you need a degree in rocket science to get this stuff working properly.”
“You said you would,” Claire reminded him with a smirk. “It looks so complicated.”
“It's not that difficult, it's just … OK, try this.” Jack walked to the cupboard and took out a microphone stand and placed it in the centre of the room, before retrieving two exceptionally long cables and a microphone. Paige watched as he connected everything together and passed her a set of headphones and then gestured towards the equipment.
“What?”
“Sing.”
“I don't need this,” Paige told him indignantly, holding up the chunky headphones. “I can hear my own voice.”
“Just try it,” he replied and she looked vacantly at him. “I know what I am doing.”
“Sing what?”
“Sing anything.” Jack retrieved two fold-up chairs and sat down in front of the equipment. He opened a drawer and pulled out two further headphones passing one to Claire. “We can move you into the other room and let you sing alone, but in the band we always liked to give instant feedback.”
Paige squeezed her
shaking hands and held onto the microphone, but Jack gestured for her to move away slightly from the black box and tilt her head. The singer launched herself into a rendition of Joan Jett's Bad Reputation, and Jack plugged two headphones into the output ports on the hardware, so Paige's companions could listen to their friend sing.
Jack changed some of the settings on the equipment to accentuate certain parts of her vocal range, and he told her to continue as she stopped to watch him. Paige closed her eyes, and they listened as she sang her way through some classic songs with Jack nodding towards Claire and smiling at Paige, who barely noticed.
“I can use these settings a pre-set.” Claire nodded and hummed. “I mean, we need to adjust it with each song, but it's good as a base. You want a go?” Jack asked his friend. Claire looked at Paige who stepped away from the microphone, but Jack had retrieved a further microphone and stand. “Together,” he suggested.
Claire was nervous – she had never sung in front of Jack – but Paige giggled and held her hand and whispered in her ear. “We could do this naked,” she teased. “I always sing better that way.” Claire shook her head and launched into an upbeat rock song, followed by Nirvana.
“No offence,” Jack told them as they took their headphones off, “but you murdered Smells Like Teen Spirit.”
“It was an interesting take on a classic,” Paige spat back, but Jack just grinned at them.
“It was awful. But the rest of them were good,” he quickly added, and Claire glanced up at the clock.
“I better go.”
“Yeah, Mum and Dad'll be home soon,” Jack told her and swayed his shoulders. “How about Saturday, do you want to give it a go? Drop some tracks, Paige?”
“Drop what?” Paige asked. “What's he on about?”
“Record some music,” he muttered.
“Then say that,” she teased. “Trying to act cool, honestly! But yeah, it'll be good. Great, even. If you don't mind.”
“Course not,” he said and raised his eyebrows. “I can even give you a lift home,” Jack offered. “It's only a 1 Series, but I can get to Croydon in thirty minutes. I don't mind.”
“No,” Paige told him firmly. “We'll be fine.” She grabbed her coat and bag and looked back at Jack shifting his weight. “And thanks,” she muttered begrudgingly.
Jack smiled her, but she averted her eyes and looked for Claire, waiting by the front door. “See you Saturday?” He asked the two girls. “9am?”
“Yeah, that's fine for me,” Claire replied. “I'm not working this weekend.”
“No problem here,” Paige added. “9am is fine. I'll get my dad to give me a lift to the station. He's working at the factory on Saturdays.”
“See ya then,” Jack said and waved them off at the door. Paige looked up and saw him, watching them from the window of his recording studio as they skulked the thirty metres to the gate and then out down the exclusive road towards the village and the railway station.
“He's nice,” Paige told her friend as they reached the end of the road. “But hell, isn't he spoilt?” Claire laughed.
“Yeah, he is. You should meet his family. If you think he's bad, wait 'til you see them.”
Paige shook her head. “I don’t want to. But why’s he doing this? What’s he want? It can’t be money.”
Claire sighed. “I dunno. I guess, I think he’s lonely,” she suggested. “He’s a nice guy and, it’s just a feeling, but I think he just wants something different to do.”
Paige giggled. “Is that something, you?” She teased and Claire shook her head, blushing.
“I think it's you he likes. I mean, he wanted the kiss off you.”
“Better not be,” Paige snarled. “I can't deal with posh bastards!”
“Yeah, but he's a posh, rich bastard,” Claire teased and Paige's face remained unmoved.
“So?” Paige snapped. “He's still a posh bastard, and he better not be interested in me. I could never go out with him in a million years. We've got nothing in common.”
* * * * *
“I've got us some lunch in the fridge,” Jack announced, the moment he opened the door. “And some beers, there's Pimms and Lemonade, all that sort of stuff.” Paige smiled and gulped.
“Right. How much do I owe you?” Jack dismissed her with a wave of the hand, but Paige crossed her arms and glared at him. “I can pay my way,” she spat. “I'm not a charity case.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jack offered in defence and smiled at the fiery girl as she took off her coat. “This is for me too!” He took a moment to admire her slim body in her pale yellow T-shirt and pale shorts that showed off her toned legs. Paige cocked her head and gestured with her hands.
“What?”
“Sorry,” he apologised quickly. “I was just thinking how pretty you looked. Sorry.” Paige raised her eyebrows at Claire and hesitated as her host walked into the small recording studio.
“He's sweet,” Claire whispered to her friend, but Paige shook her head; there was something that didn't feel right about Jack and it made her feel uneasy.
“Right,” Jack cried as he clapped his hands. “What are we doing?” He saw Claire put her electric guitar on the floor and then Paige hover by the door. “What do you want? I'm here to help if you want me to. I mean, I want to, but I'll go if you want or … what?”
“I'd really like to get our version of Hot N Cold in and … er … one of my own,” Paige told him. “I don't know how long this takes.”
“We did several songs in a day once,” Jack boasted and then smiled. “But, it's your day. I am totally sick of Physics and Maths, making music is an awesome break, so I'm yours. All day. Do what you want!”
Paige smiled. “Tempting,” she teased, and Claire unstrapped her guitar.
“I need to tune mine, give me ten minutes.”
“Do you want to borrow mine?” Jack offered and opened the cupboard to withdraw a black leather guitar case. “I never play it, although I tuned it last night. Just in case.” Claire carefully undid the zip and cooed at the teal guitar.
Her eyes sparkled like she was a little child on Christmas morning. “Wow. It's … it's … how is this not used every day?” She asked, a little aggressively. “If it was me, I would go to bed and sleep with it. This is … what's wrong with you?”
Jack gulped. “Yeah … well … it's, just a guitar. Right?”
“It's a Les Paul.”
“Yeah, but it's not a five grand model. It's just a …”
“One of the best guitar makes around. Oh man, it's …” Paige smiled at her friend; she was not used to seeing her so excitable, and Jack gestured towards the nervous Paige.
“I got another one around. That's not a Les Paul, but I got another one.”
“How much did this cost?” Claire asked.
“Oh, a grand, maybe. Perhaps two. I can't remember. The whole studio came to seventeen or eighteen I think. I don't actually know for certain. Dad just got a local firm in who had just done one at his mate's house and gave 'em a blank cheque. It's no more than twenty.” Claire's eyes bulged at the amount and she looked at Paige with a curious expression. “OK, Paige. Let's get your track down first. Without Claire and then do Claire afterwards.”
“Me? Don't we play together?”
Jack hummed. “You can do,” he said slowly. “But we don't. It's a bit raw if you do it all together. Best to do the vocals separately and then each instrument separately. But we always used to do the vocals first. I don't know if it's the right way or not, I never had much help in using it, but it used to work for us.”
“Christ!” Paige hesitated and looked at the microphone Jack had set up for her. She took a few breaths and looked at Claire. “This is … help, I'm shaking.”
“It's only us here,” Claire soothed.
“Just relax,” Jack suggested and Paige put on the headphones that were lay on the floor, waiting for her. “We can do a hundred takes if you need to.” Paige nodded, and started singing a more up-tempo version o
f Katy Perry's classic. Her voice trailed off as she reached the chorus and apologised. “S'fine. Try again. We got all day.”
He pressed a few buttons on the computer, and gestured towards Paige, who started singing, but trailed off after a few seconds. Paige gulped and swore at herself, before messing up again and taking the headphones off.
“I'm sorry,” Paige told Claire and took a few deep breaths. “I can't do it like this,” she muttered. “It's too formal. It's …” She coughed and walked out of the room. “Give me a minute.” Paige strode into the reception room and looked out over the driveway and gate. She sighed and talked angrily to herself. “It's just singing, we've done this before. It's fine. Oh crap!” Paige muttered to the room, and took a few deep breaths to calm herself, but she still felt tense and put her hands on the back of the sofa.
