Chapter 9

 

The trip back to Drimshanra seems much shorter by day. This time I find the band’s house in the estate easily. They are all gathered around a van parked in front of the house as we pull up. Len shouts a greeting and everyone gets out of the car.

“I see you brought an entourage.” Mac frowns at him. “Baz still isn’t here.”

“Relax, it’s Sunday,” Len says soothingly. “Baz will be down later. He won’t want to miss the rehearsal tonight.”

“He’d better not!” Mac throws his towel into the back of the van, and the rest of the band clamber aboard. “Jenna has him under her thumb.”

“See you there!” Len waves to Felice as he climbs in beside Mac.

“Come on, everyone, hurry up!” Felice leads the way back to my mother’s car.

“Wait up,” I say. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Why, have you plans?” Felice asks.

“No, it’s just my mother will be wondering where I am.”

“So what?” Felice shrugs impatiently. “You can call her from the beach. She won’t mind you doing something on your day off, will she?”

“No, I guess not!” Felice is right about that. Mam would be delighted to hear I was going to the beach with my new friends, so long as I can find a way to let her know. “You’re sure there’s a payphone at the beach?”

“Bound to be one somewhere!” She hops into the front seat before I can protest any further.

“Do you think they mind us tagging along?” I ask as we follow the van out of Drimshanra towards the coast.

“Why would they?” Felice shrugs.

“Well, you know, Mac wasn't too happy back there.”

“Yeah, but that was to do with Baz and rehearsals. And Len says he’s like that, always going off on one. Don’t worry, the beach is for chilling, the more the merrier. Anyway, it’s Sunday and there’s nothing else to do.”

For a moment, I’m torn. On the one hand I’m thinking of my mother, pale and alone in the dreary house. On the other hand, it’s a chance to talk to Kit again, but she hasn’t said more than two words to me all morning. They are so close the three of them, it fascinates me, pulling me into their world. I’ve never known anyone like them before and there’s nothing I want more than to be accepted by them, yet I can’t tell where I fit in, or even if I fit in. All I can do is make sure they keep me around. And if that means driving them to the beach on a beautiful Sunday in July, well then, that’s what I’ll do.

There’s a small shop near where I park the car and I go in to see if they have a payphone. Even before pushing through the door and entering the dim interior, I know it’s a long shot. Turns out they don’t have a phone. The only one they know of is at a hotel several miles away. Either I can drive around looking for a phone to call my mother, or I can join the others.

With a twinge of conscience I make my way down to the beach. Some of the gang have hit the water already. Felice prances around in a skimpy bikini with Len frolicking at her side in oversized beach shorts. Kit has taken off her docs, rolled up her skirt and is paddling knee deep at the water’s edge.

I arrive just in time to see Mac sneak up behind her, swoop her into his arms and dump her into the water with a huge splash. She squeals as she goes under and comes up spluttering.

I can’t take my eyes off her, as she blinks the water from her eyes and shakes her hair so that droplets spray everywhere. Her dress clings to her body leaving nothing to the imagination. She’s a goddess, Venus rising from the waves. Mac’s cackle of delight brings me back to myself and I hastily avert my eyes. But as soon as I do, I want to look at her again. I wish I could stare at her all day.

As though conscious of the effect she’s having on us all, Kit walks slowly up the beach to where Spike is waiting with a towel. I want to slap myself, if only I’d kept my wits about me, I could have been the one waiting with a towel.

I was sure Mac had no interest in Kit but he can hardly fail to have noticed her now. When he comes out of the water a few minutes later, I watch him closely, but he barely glances at Kit before spreading himself out to dry. Throwing her in the water didn’t mean anything, it was his idea of a joke.

Reassured, I make my way over to sit beside her. “Would you like me to play some music for you?”

Before she answers, she glances over at Mac. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring gently.

“Sure,” she says.

I take my guitar out of the boot of the car and we find a place in the dunes, away from the rest of them. The sun is shining, the sea is sparkling, and I always feel more confident with my guitar, it’s like it speaks for me. Kit seems to enjoy listening, so I try something I’ve been working on, a piece of my own.

“That’s lovely,” she says.

“I can’t find words to go with it. Tunes fill my head, spilling out of me, but I get stuck on the lyrics.” It’s not something I usually discuss, but somehow I seem to tell Kit things I’ve never confided in anyone else.

“How about…?” She hesitates and looks at me.

“Please, I need help.”

“Okay!” She takes out a notebook. “Words come better to me when I write them down,” she says a little embarrassed. “They seem to flow more easily than when I speak.”

“I know exactly what you mean. I need to be playing the guitar for music to come to me.”

“Well, you play and I’ll write!”

Before we know it, we've sketched out a song.

She shows me the words she’s scribbled.

 

We are the lost generation, born to run wild

Children of chaos in a dead end town

A life of desperation, disenchantment

Lost in quiet obscurity and the hidden darkness of my thoughts

Only you could cast the light, only you could turn the key

Only you could set me free.

 

“This is incredible.” I read them in awe. “You understand music.”

“No, I don’t, not really. I just like playing with words. You’re the one who understands the music.”

“It’s like a dialogue, you writing the words and me making the music. I wonder if it should be a duet.” I look at her hopefully. Anyone who writes like this must be musical.

“No way! I can’t sing to save my life.”

Smothering a sigh, I do my best to hide my disappointment. It would have been the perfect way to spend more time together. Though I could never have written them myself, somehow her lyrics match my music. It’s like there’s an unexpected balance between the intensity of her words and the lightness of my melody.

“Do you mind if I work on this?” I ask her.

"Of course not.” She tears out the page and hands it to me, with no idea how precious a gift she’s given me. “Use whatever you want.”

The dreamy afternoon passes too quickly, the waves rolling in and out in a soft summer haze. Inexorably, the tide edges ever closer and when it reaches the tyres of the van, it’s time to go.

“Baz had better be back,” Mac mutters as we pack up. “We need to rehearse.”

“Maybe Tully can stand in, if you’re stuck,” Spike says, surprising me. “He plays the guitar.” He must have come close enough to listen, though neither of us noticed him.

“It had better not come to that,” Mac scowls. “Besides, Baz is good.”

“Tully is good too,” Kit astonishes me by saying. I can’t believe she’s talking me up to Mac Whitehead, as if he’d consider me for a moment.

“Baz will be there. I know he will.”

Even though I’m expecting it, Mac’s rejection still stings.