Chapter Seven

 

Wednesday April 23rd – 11.50pm – Julius’ Story

 

I wonder if I should have left him with her? Silly old sod doesn’t know what he’s doing, she’ll eat him alive. I’m standing three feet away from him but I might as well have been on the moon for all he noticed, like a kid at the bloody circus.

Still, she is rather tasty, I wonder what the hell she sees in him? Mind you he does seem to attract them, shame he’s got no idea what to do with them. Her blonde mate looked the business as well, a bit tall for me, but who cares; perhaps I should have suggested a foursome?

What am I thinking, idiot? No way on God’s earth he’d do anything, not with Lydia at home. For one thing she’d kill him and for another there’s no way even I’d do anything with a woman like her waiting for me, so beautiful.

At least I don’t think he would?

I remember when he first told me about her, I could swear he blushed, all tongue tied and defensive as if he’d been caught with a dirty mag.

If he felt like that though, why did he tell me?

Simple.

Because he’s got no one else to tell and God help him he always has to tell somebody, either that or write another bloody poem.

I remember when he first lent me his guitar at that gig, must be six or seven years ago now.

I remember my mates telling him to, him reluctant, me a bit pissed.

But for some reason he did?

Broke the golden rule, lost control of the situation.

Or did he?

No way I’d lend anybody my guitar, especially at eleven o’clock on a Friday night.

I even remember the songs I played. Then him asking my mate who wrote them, surprised when he found out I did.

‘You and me are going to do a gig together’ he said afterwards.

Didn’t ask, just told me as if he knew that there was no way I’d say no.

Then he told me more about himself than I really wanted to know at that time.

Always has to tell someone, it’ll backfire one day, if it hasn’t already?

As far as I was concerned he was just an old guy who could play a bit and could get me a gig.

And that first gig with my family there, oh God.

Closest I’ve come to crapping myself before or since, but we did it.

I remember not wanting it to end.

And keeping going after that first gig just seemed the natural thing to do; we both like the same music, so it was easy.

All those hours spent recording our own stuff, both of us so precious at first, resentful when the other suggested changes in our songs but soon settling down to a tacit understanding and the songs all the better for it.

And the poxy independent label that gave us the record deal only to find they were a deluded bunch of wankers…. But that’s another story.

Hit him hard that did, he says it didn’t but I reckon he had a breakdown, in fact I’m sure of it.

Hit me hard as well, but I reckon I’m a bit more of a realist.

Probably helps being twenty five, all that time in front of me.

Think he saw it as ‘last chance saloon’ and that’s why he started writing the poetry and doing the upstairs gigs, some sort of substitute I reckon.

Surprised me though, seems to be doing ok, although they do look a sorry bunch, like a Train Spotters convention meets the Women’s Institute some nights.

Not my cup of tea but he’s happy and the covers gigs are definitely improving all the time.

Must find more time to record more of our own songs though, they’re getting better as well.

Love to find a ‘proper’ record label who wants us, that would put the smile back on his face.

Put a smile on mine as well, ‘Polish boy comes good’ reads the headline!

I wonder what would make mum happiest, that headline or ‘Polish musician to marry?

No contest.

I’d like to introduce her to Pippa but not yet, only get her hopes up again.

‘Look how happy your brother is, and those lovely children….’

Ah, well, I’m only twenty five Mum, let me live a bit, please.

Must tidy this room up, Julius will be round tomorrow to do some recording and the laptop’s covered in socks.

Not that he moans, he’s used to me being a slob around the house, or room to be more accurate.

He’s an old worrier but he was definitely right about Grinder, that stunt with Bowman and the other idiot was right out of left field.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d given me a slap, but that was something else.

And all the business about the Rhiannon girl and Grinder being connected?

He’s getting properly worked up about that and no mistake.

Perhaps the old twat is having a mid-life crisis but I can think of safer people to do it with than a bird twenty years younger and a confirmed psycho.

Plus what that student said about her. Thought I wasn’t listening.

It sounds like she might be a mature student at the university and having a fling with one of the lecturers to boot if the gossip is to be believed.

Even more bloody complicated.

Mind you he’s got a mental age of twenty going on twelve at the best of times so no point relying on age and experience to see him through it.

No bloody common sense about the real world, that’s the trouble, just sees everything as grist to his creative mill.

Anyone would think that he’s been to University and I was the failed Grammar school boy instead of the other way round.

Still, I have my own creative moments; I just don’t see the need to live your whole life in an artistic vacuum that’s all.

It’s lucky for him that Lydia puts up with it as well as she does, a lot of women would tell him to play his games in his own time and get off his arse and do a proper job.

But she will kill him if he starts pratting about with this Rhiannon, of that I am certain.

I just hope that he is.