“There's nothing to tell,” Hazel muttered and shrugged. The naked Paige stared into her sister's eyes, and she blinked. “Really, there's nothing to tell.”
Paige gulped and held out her arms to embrace her sister, holding her tightly and sniffing back the tears. It was the first cuddle they had shared since the troubled girl had left hospital four months previously and as far as Paige was concerned, it was a massive step in the right direction.
* * * * *
Claire crept up the front drive of the house and swore when she saw the executive saloon of her friend's father parked outside their front door; if she was spotted at the house in her waitressing uniform, then she was in trouble!
Claire looked to her left and right; there were impeccably manicured bushes and plants, but she had no option and dived to her left, over the bush and landed on something prickly.
She could still be seen, and showed up very well in her white uniform, so the young lady crept behind the back of a giant plant, swearing when she caught the spines on her hand in the twilight. The voices of Paul and Anne carried in the night as the man of the household moaned vociferously about the time it took his wife to get ready.
A couple of minutes later, the car swept out of the drive aggressively, and Claire waited for a few moments, just to make sure that Jack's parents did not return having forgotten something and see her striding towards their house. They didn't return, and after a minute of painful waiting, Claire tentatively got out of the bush and walked towards the house.
She could feel her heart beating and she felt as though she was doing something exceedingly naughty, but there was no shouting or screaming and the girl calmly knocked stoutly on the door.
She waited for an answer or for Jack to appear, but there was no response until she knocked again. “I'm comin',” a female voice shouted and Claire swore again, and sprinted back towards the bushes and dived into the prickly plant again. Neither Jack nor her had considered that anyone else would be home and Claire winced as she tried to remove two thorns from the back of her hand in the semi-darkness.
She watched as the dainty frame of Harriet Rees-Montague came to the door and shouted into the night, “hello?” The girl looked around the drive before cursing Claire under her breath and slamming the door.
Claire had a problem; she did not know Jack's mobile number and had no way of getting a message to him that she was waiting in his driveway under a bush. He told her to come to the house on Saturday evening, but they had not agreed at what time that meant, or how to meet.
She thought for a moment and then sat down, squinting at the windows to spy him moving through a room, but there was nothing. “Claire,” a voice whispered. “Claire. I know it was you, Claire?”
The black-haired girl got to her feet and peered over the bush to see her friend at the other end of the drive, calling softly into the wind and scrambled out of the undergrowth. “Jack,” she replied and ran softly towards him.
“Why didn't you just ring?”
“Because I haven't got your number,” she moaned, and he just grunted.
“It's this way.”
“Won't we need to go around Harriet?”
“Nah,” he said instantly and walked down the drive until he was alongside the separate garage, away from the main house. A wrought iron staircase between the perimeter of the property and the giant double garage led to a flat above the garage, and he smiled at her. “It's well away from Harriet!”
“Wow!” Claire muttered as they climbed the steps and he unlocked the front door. “It's like a separate house.”
“It was a granny annexe I believe,” Jack explained. “But it never got used at all and for my fourteenth birthday, my parents kitted it out for me as a den, and then for my fifteenth, they put a recording studio in the big bedroom.”
“It's two bedroom,” Claire muttered as he unlocked and opened the front door and they stepped into a narrow corridor. They both coughed as they entered the flat and he pushed open the door to his left.
“It's been sound-proofed,” he boasted. “And treated to stop echo, acoustics aren't bad. We got a big computer, an interface,” he said pointing at some dusty equipment in the corner of the room. “Filters, amps, speakers, headphones in here,” he told her and opened a drawer containing four expensive headphones and two microphones. “Oh and I've got a keyboard around here – well two actually. One MIDI one for the computer and another to play. There's some drums, electric guitar in the other room for storage and …”
“Wow! Seriously, this is amazing. And you'd let me borrow it for a day. Tops.”
He sighed and pulled down two posters from the wall. She noticed his face was printed along with two other people, above lettering that read “Element of Surprise.” She gulped and she stopped him taking down the third. “Ellie?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly and she looked at the poster.
“And you stopped coming in here, 'cause of her.”
“I got this setup 'cause of her,” he responded fiercely as he took a few deep breaths. “It's bringing back bad memories,” he snarled. “I just hate this place now.”
“But … can't you just move on?” Claire asked cheerfully and insensitively.
“She was …” Jack gulped and looked back at the poster in front of Claire before ripping it from the wall and thrusting it aggressively in front of the teenage girl. “I found her screwing my best friend and band mate,” he yelled, pointing at the two faces on the poster. “And I loved her. How can I just move on from that?” He ripped the paper into several pieces and threw them on the floor, before storming out of the room.
Claire flinched as he left and sighed. She stooped down to the floor, picked up the pieces and walked into the small reception room – also containing pictures of their old band, and he watched as she calmly took them down. “I'm sorry,” she told him as joined him on a small couch. “Really I am.” He didn't respond, and Claire spoke to break the silence. “I didn't know.”
“No,” he murmured, deep in thought. “I knew coming back in here would be pretty awful, but I had no idea. We went out for four years.” He wiped his eyes and stared at the floor. “And we were in this band, great vocals she had. And we would spend hours just singing and recording. Best friend on the guitar and we sent demo tapes to some recording studios. We got a bit of interest as well. Doing well. Couple of gigs at local pubs. I know Dad wasn't happy about it, but, we did it. Won school talent competition. Getting real close to her. She'd always said she wanted to wait until we got married before sex and I was fine with that, but we used to spend hours cuddling and talking. And then on her eighteenth I proposed, and she said 'no.' She said she wanted to split up not get engaged, and it just broke me. I spent the night wandering the streets and came home and wrote two songs. I went to her house that Saturday night and serenaded her with the music I wrote to try and win her back and my best friend comes out, half-naked with her and she tells me that they have been screwing for a year and just tells me to move on.”
“Crap,” Claire muttered, and Jack sniffed.
“I've never had a worst weekend. And this place, I was here so much with her. Our first kiss was here. Our first song together was there, our first everything was in these four walls.”
“Then maybe you should reclaim it,” Claire suggested. “Maybe, clean it up and make music again with someone else and banish the painful memories. 'Cause if you start having happy times here again, you won't have it reminding you of her, will you?”
He snorted, and Claire squeezed his hand causing him to smile. “I am not sure I can make music at the moment. It's just too fresh.”
“My friend has troubles too,” Claire told him in a calm, soothing voice. “I think you two will get on. She's quite a livewire and is very confident. Look, Jack, we don't have to clean this up for me to use, if it's too painful. If you want me to leave and …”
“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.
The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) Page 6
