CHAPTER TEN 

1986

The concert that night was one of our worst and best ever. Maca was drunk, shit-faced, and highly emotional. He constantly changed the set list. As his bandmates, we knew the songs and quickly fell into stride along with whatever he decided to sing, but the sound techs and lighting blokes must’ve been majorly confused.

He broke into one of the best versions of ‘Train In Vain’ by The Clash that I’d ever heard, then an extremely sad and random cover of ‘Denis’ by Blondie, changing the words ‘Denis’ to ‘Georgie’ and ‘King’ to ‘Queen.’ He followed this with a haunting version of ‘River’ by Joni Mitchell. His song choices were erratic, he went from sad and slow into a manic version of the Buzzcocks, ‘Ever Fallen In Love,’ then slipped into a bluesy version of Dylan’s ‘Don’t Think Twice,’ which he played and sang alone with his electric acoustic. This was followed by our own ‘Seaside Heart,’ his usual raspy voiced version of ‘English Rose,’ and then ‘Georgia.’ It was possibly the best performance of his life. 

He left me to say his ‘goodnight’s’ and ‘thank you’s’ as he exited the stage without a word.

Tonight, there would be no encore.

I watched as he walked straight into Jimmie’s arms and sobbed so hard he could barely stand.

She held on to him tight, stroking his hair and his back. She kissed his cheek and the top of his head, speaking words to try and comfort and soothe him while at the same time, encouraging him to let it all out.

Jimmie managed to coax and steer him out of the venue and into the back of the car that was waiting to take us back to the hotel.

I sat in silence and watched my best mate fall apart. The pain from the guilt and anguish felt as I witnessed Maca break into a million pieces was like being eaten alive, from the inside out, but so much less than I deserved.

So much less.

2014

My eyes fly open and my heart skips a few beats. I must’ve fallen asleep whilst reading. My laptop obviously got bored of waiting for me to scroll down the page and has also gone off to sleep.

I hear a giggle and realise it must’ve been the noise that woke me. Ash must be home.

The door to my office flies open and my sister falls through it. Yeah, she actually falls, or more like, collapses in a heap.

“What the fuck, George?”

She looks up at me with her blue eyes and blinks a few times.

“Big brother, Marleeeeeeey.” She grins as she calls from her position on the floor. She starts to crawl towards me on all fours.

Ashley appears behind her in the doorway, frowning as she looks at me.

“Georgia drunked.”  She slurs, swaying as she tries to speak. I realise then she’s not frowning at me but trying to focus. “G, she got-she got drinked.”

My sister is now lying flat on her back, looking up at the ceiling and laughing her head off at what? I really don’t have a clue.

“No,” Ash says. “No, no, no. Not drinked, she’s not got drinked.” She shakes her head, slides down on the floor and joins G, laughing at whatever it is that’s so amusing on my office ceiling.

“How the fuck did you get in this state?” I ask them as I stand up and look over at my wife and sister who are now doing a bang on impersonation of a couple of hyenas.

On meth!

“Y-you, Marley Layton, are my favouritist big brother called Marley. The best, my very bestest one.” George points her finger up at me as she speaks.

“I’m your only big brother called Marley.”

“This true, this is vrery, vrery true,” she slurs.

I continue to watch the pair of them lying there. Ash is now curled on her side and crying with laughter. I still have no clue what she’s finding so funny though.

“Be smiley, Marls,” George says. “Don’t be a Lennon face, be a smiley Marley face.”

I hear a crash from up the hallway, just before Jimmie appears in the doorway.

“Oh great, here’s another one,” I say to anyone interested.

Jimmie is staring at me, well, at least trying to. She squints her eyes and sways as she holds something up to me. “My Louboutines, I brokeded them.”

What is it with women talking like three year olds when they get pissed up?

“Noooooooo,” Ashley screeches from the floor, attempting at the same time to sit up.

“Not the Boutines, that’s just so sad.” I give her a hand and move her to sit on the sofa I’d been sleeping on before the drunk circus arrived in town.

“Love you, Rock Star,” she whispers, making my heart do its usual little happy dance when I hear her say those words. That shit never gets old and my smile is instantaneous.

“Love you, baby.” As always, that’s my reply.

“Who said Len?” Jimmie asks. “Someone said Len, Lenny, Lennon. Where’s my baby? Is he here?”

She looks around with a smile on her face, as if Len’s hiding from her and about to jump out from behind the sofa and shout ‘ta da ... sur-fuckin-prise.’

They’ve only been invading my space for five minutes but they’re already giving me a headache. I know these three women better than I know my own dick, and I know full well that this is highly unlikely to end well.

“How the fuck do you go clothes shopping and come back in this state?” I ask again. They went to buy dresses and shoes, I’m pretty sure at no time was alcohol mentioned.

“S’er fault.” Ash and George say together, both pointing at Jimmie who I’m guessing is the least likely to blame for this. 

Jimmie opens her eyes and mouth wide and looks around the room. Whether she’s still expecting Len to appear, I’ve no clue, but I wish he would. I’d welcome any kind of backup right now.

“Was Paige,” Jimmie states, vigorously nodding her head.

“Yeah,” says George, still speaking from her prone position on my office floor.

“It was her what done it. Lunch, she said, didn’t she girls?” They all nod.

“Where’s Paige now?” I ask in the hopes that one of them is capable of giving me an answer, and praying that they didn’t leave my niece drunk and wandering around Bluewater Shopping Centre.

“S’gone,” Ash sings and they all nod in unison, then she suddenly starts to laugh. “She’s not famous...” She gasps for breath between laughing and talking. “She’s not as famous as us.” All three of them are now laughing hysterically.

Jimmie slides to the floor and takes off her other shoe and crawls over to lay beside George, whose wiping tears from under her eyes.

“My daughter’s a bigger diva than your sister,” Jimmie informs me.

“Fuck you.”

Here we go.

“No one’s a digger biva than me.” Georgia declares, much to the delight of the other two drunkards.

“You said digger biva not bigger diva.” Ash laughs and gasps at the same time.

All three of them are now cackling like witches, and as much as they’re annoying the shit outta me right now, it’s an absolute joy to watch my sister like this.

“I’m Queen Diva. Paige is only Princess Diva and anyway, I’m more fame... shit, famouser,” George declares.

“But she’s a model.” Ashley says in a stupid voice, which appears to be so funny that I worry for a moment that they’ve all stopped breathing as their amusement takes their breath away.

“Ohmagod,” Jimmie pants. “I need another drink.”

“Yessss.” The other two agree.

“Yeah, not happening ladies. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Fuck off, Marls,” George and Ash say together and yeah, apparently that’s funny too.

I walk over to my desk, retrieve my phone and call my brother.

“Little brother Marley.”

“Got summit of yours here, mate. It’s currently flat on its back in my office, pissed as a fart and cackling like a deranged hen.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Yeah, it’s still one of Len’s favourites. “Wife or daughter?”

“Wife, although I would be tracking your daughter down right now as I can’t get any sense out of these three as to where Paige is.”

“She’s a model, don’t cha know?” Ash shouts out in her best Little Britain, ‘I’m a lady’ voice, reducing the three of them to sound again like a small pack of hyenas that have now mixed their meth with crack.

“What the fuck’s all the noise?” Len asks.

“That, mate, is the sound of The Priory’s next three detox patients.”

“I’ll be over in a bit. You eaten?”

“Nah, I need to ring Cam. I’ll call you back and let you know what to pick up. We’ll need to double the order if the big man’s coming.”

“All right, I’ll call Paige. Try and get some water into those three.”

“Will do,” I assure him.

I end the call and realise the room is quiet. When I turn around, I see that Jimmie and Ash are gone and there’s just me and George left, still lying on her back. I follow her gaze to a photo of me and Maca on the wall. It’s from some awards ceremony or other. We’re both in suits, but it’s obviously the end of the night as our ties are missing and top buttons are undone. Maca has a bottle of champagne in his hand. We look young and cocky, probably because we were.

I stand in front of my sister, blocking her view of the picture and hold my hand out to her. She takes it and I pull her up to a standing position. She’s kicked off her shoes and stands barefoot in front of me, swaying slightly.

I know what’s coming. I mentally square my shoulders in anticipation for it. She’s strong most of the time, I’d say ninety percent these days, but she carries her losses with her on a daily basis. I see that ten percent of sorrow that never leaves her eyes, and I think Jimmie, Ash, and Len do too. I’m not sure if Cam sees and accepts it, or if he decides to remain oblivious.

I notice her breathing change and I know that she’s fighting not to cry. Crying for her dead husband and their children overwhelms her with guilt because she’s now happily married to Cam and they have four babies of their own. That, in turn, makes her feel guilty about Maca, Beau, and Baby M. I don’t think any of us will ever truly understand her struggles and the demons she fights every single day of her life.

I see her sway, watch her legs start to buckle and pull her into me. The sound that tears from her insides and escapes is primal and can only be described as grief in its most basic form—raw and gut wrenchingly painful.

I hold her to me as I move us both to the sofa. I sit her down in my lap and let her cry into my chest, the way that I’ve done so many times before. She’s my sister, I love her, and I hate with a passion that there’s nothing that I can, or will ever be able to do, to take away this pain.

“Why, why Marley? Why them? Why my husband? Why my babies? Oh god, Marley. It hurts so much, so fucking much. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts” She chants, almost choking on her words, she’s crying so hard.

“I miss him every day.” She sobs and that, combined with the way she slurs her words, I have to listen hard to what she’s saying, but I already know the gist of it. It’s what happens every time Georgia drinks and old memories are stirred up. Her guilt and self-doubt about the life that she’s gone on to lead are never far from the surface and when she drinks, everything goes to shit when there’s a trigger.

“With every, every breath and every heartbeat, Marley. Every fucking beat of my heart, I miss him. Does that make me bad, Marls? Does that make me a bad wife to Cam, a bad mummu to my babies?”

I remain silent. I’ve heard her ask these questions so many times and I really have no answers. Some would say yeah, it’s terrible that you still mourn your dead husband when you’re married and have children with another. But others, probably those that have been through or witnessed someone else going through what she has, they would totally get the concept that Georgia missing Maca and their children in no way detracts from what she has with and feels for Cam and their children.

“They’re my Mife Larls—Fuck. My life. You know what I mean. I’m a bit drunk.” She blinks as she looks up at me and all I see is the little girl she used to be. Her big blue eyes are wide with tears hanging from her lashes. I swallow down the lump in my throat before I even attempt to speak.

“You’re drunk, George? I’d never have guessed that one, babe.” My sarcasm goes right over her inebriated head.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Just a bit,” she says in all seriousness, and I can’t help but kiss her temple.

“They’re my world, Marls. My kids and Cam are what keep me going, but there’s always this piece of my heart ... this piece, this big fucking piece ...” she lets out another heaving sob that shakes her whole body as she punches herself in the chest, her heart. I respond by pulling her in tighter to my chest. I have nothing else to offer, no words that will ever be able to make this better for her.

“This piece,” she says again, this time slapping her palm flat over her chest. “It will always be his, always be theirs, but I do, I do, do, do love Cam, I truly do. He’s my rock. My Tiger.”

“I know, George. You don’t have to explain, you really don’t.” I try to reassure her.

“Do you still feel it Marls? Do you still miss him?” She tries to focus and look me in the eyes when she asks.

I take in air and try to free my lungs and chest of the sensation of being crushed.

“More than I could ever put into words. I miss him so much.”

“I get scared, Marls. So, so scared. What happens when we’re gone? Whose gonna remember him? Whose gonna talk about him and miss and love him like we do?” She starts to cry again.

“There’ll always be the music, George. He’s one of the best songwriters this country has ever produced. The music will outlive us all. Elvis has been dead for nearly forty years. I bet all of our kids know who he is though.”

“I s’pose.”

“I hope so, Marls, I really fucking hope so. He has no babies. They’re the only things left of him, his songs. Our babies died, Marls, they fucking died.” Her crying is agonising, the pain palpable.

“Why? Why, why, why did I have to lose it all, every part of him? I get so angry. Oh god, I get so angry. Why couldn’t it have been me that died? I’m no one, nothing. He was special, so special and talented, and people all—all around the world love his words and music and his voice, and I’m just no one, nothing.”

I try and be the strong one when George has these breakdowns. When it’s my turn, we both tend to cry together, but when it’s her, I try and stay strong, but tonight’s different. I hate hearing her say this about herself. It breaks my heart that she feels that she’s so worthless.

“Fuck, G, don’t ever think for a minute that you’re not important. If you had died that day, then there’d now be no George, Kiks, or Lula. Harry would have no mum. Without you, those little people wouldn’t exist today. Would you deny them the right to life George?”

I feel her shoulders shake as she silently cries, but she manages to shake her head no.

“If you had died that day,” I continue, “Maca would never have survived. He could never live without you in this world.”

“He would. He would’ve come to terms with it. Event-eventually, just like I’ve had to.”

“You came to terms with it because you’ve had Cam to hold your hand and help guide you through. He’s been there. He lost his wife, unborn baby, and his dad under horrible circumstances,” I tell her. “I’ll be totally honest here and tell ya, George. I don’t think you would’ve made it without Cam. I’m not religious, I don’t believe in fate, destiny, or that things happen for a reason. Life is what it is. Shit happens to good people because that’s just the way that life is. You and Cam, you really are just perfect for each other, and what happened in both of your pasts made it that way. There’s no one else on this planet that could’ve put you back together the way he did, George, and I mean no one. It goes against everything that I believe in, but it’s almost like you two were destined to be together.” I tell her from my heart.

“I love him. He’s my Tiger.” She explains matter-of-factly.

I smile at her because I can see the smile in her eyes as she talks about the man that saved and rebuilt her the best that he could. We never got the old Georgia back, how could we? None of us were the same after Maca’s death and the loss of Beau. Our whole family was, and will be, changed forever because of those events. but Cameron King gave us back a version of Georgia that we never thought we’d see again. Step by step, day by day, I got my beautiful, funny, mouthy, diva of a sister back and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for that.

Jimmie appears in the doorway, a full champagne flute in hand.

“I told you no more drink.”

“And we told you to fuck off.” Jimmie replies.

“Actually, you didn’t. It was your two mouthy mates that did that.” I remind her.

“Yeah, I did. I just said it in my head, so that counts double.” She smiles at me and gives her eyebrows a little raise, as if to say ‘so there.’

“How fucking old are you?” I ask.

“Old enough to know when I want another drink.” She narrows her eyes and smiles.

I give in. It’s three against one until the boys arrive. Which reminds me, I need to ring Cam. I slide Georgia off my lap and stand to get my phone out of my pocket.

Ashley arrives with a bottle of Moёt and two more flutes. “No more for her.” I tell Ash, pointing at George.

“Fuck off, Marls.” I get from all three of them, followed by “Love you, Rock Star,” coming from Ash.

“Love you, baby.” I tell her back. I know I sound like a wuss, but it makes my wife happy and horny when I call her baby so I do it as often as I can. Because at the end of the day, I like my wife happy, horny, and knowing that I love her.

I head out to the kitchen to ring my brother in law. “Marley, you heard from the girls? I was just about to call you. Georgia’s not answering her phone.”

“She’s here, mate.” I reassure him. “The three of them are here, a little worse for wear, and very emotional.”

“What, pissed you mean?”

“Yep, and as much as I’ve tried to stop them, they’ve just opened a bottle of Moёt and seem determined to carry on the party.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Funny, Len said those exact same words.”

“Right. Let me get the kids sorted and I’ll be over.”

“Bring them with you if you want. Len’s on his way, and I was gonna ring him back with a food order if you fancy staying and eating.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Marian’s here, actually. I’ll get her to stay with the kids. What were you thinking of eating?”

“Whatever you fancy, mate ... Chinese?”

“Yeah, sounds good. Tell him to get plenty and I’ll sort him out the money when I get there.”

“Will do.”

“Does Georgia need anything?”

“Just you I think, mate.”

“What’s that mean? How drunk is she?”

“Yeah, they’re all pretty gone and about to get worse.”

“She cried?”

“She has.”

“Right.You got any decent bourbon or single malt?”

“I’ve got Jack, Jim, or Laphroaig. Take your pick.”

“Good, I think we’re gonna need it.”

“I think you’re probably very right.”

“I usually am, ask my wife.”

“Yeah, don’t know if I’ll get much sense from her right now.”

“Great,” he replies, sarcastically. “I’ll see you in a bit. Try and get them to slow down.” He hangs up before I can reply. Well, good luck to me then.

I call Len back and ask him to order everything off the menu from our favourite Chinese takeout and to pick up some mixers for the bourbon as Ash doesn’t allow fizzy drink in the house as a rule.

The girls have taken the party out to the deck by the time I get back to them. For some reason, best known to themselves, they have Right Said Fred’s, ‘I’m too sexy’ playing from one of their phones and are doing their best ‘model on the runway’ walk. It’s bad.

I watch as my sister struts the length of our deck. Hand on hip, she turns, looks over her shoulder, total duck face going, and then starts walking/swaying back to where the other two pair of idiots are still laughing.

Georgia actually walks the walk pretty well. She’s modelled a few times at various charity events over the years, so she has had some practise.

I stand and shake my head before giving in and asking what the fuck they’re doing?

“Paige.” They all say together.

I raise my eyebrows in expectation and hold my hands up, gesturing for them to elaborate.

“In the bar ... the man ...” Ash laughs as she attempts to explain.

Jimmie is now up and attempting ‘the walk,’ but she’s wearing the shoes that George has just taken off and they’re obviously too big. She only makes four strides before going down like a sack of shit and landing in a heap on my Tasmanian Oak decking.

I actually join in the laughter this time, regretting only that I’m not filming this so I can show Len and Cam when they arrive and play it back to the girls tomorrow.

I help Jim to her feet and sit her on a chair. “Why are you taking the piss out of Paige, I don’t understand?” I question, although really not expecting a coherent answer.

“Oh my god, Marls, we told you,” Ashley whines.

“Actually babe, you didn’t.”

Jimmie knocks back the last of the champagne from her glass and tries to top it up from the bottle, but it’s empty. They’ve drunk the lot.

“S’gone. Gonother, Marls?” Georgia asks.

“Not till you tell me why you’re taking the piss outta Paige.” They said ‘man and bar.’ Not that I’m green eyed or anything, but I want to know what that’s all about.

“The man in bar ... Bar, the bar,” Ashley starts. This could take a while.

She tilts her head and looks up at the sky before looking back at me and my stomach goes over. What the fuck happened today? I grow concerned for my wife because she’s suddenly looking like she’s about to cry.

I watch her throat move as she swallows before continuing with a shaky voice. I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or emotions that are causing this. She looks at George, Jim, and then me. Taking a deep breath, she starts talking.

“A bloke in the bar ... started chat-chatting with Paige. We thought he recognised her, but, but it was ... it was George, and then me.” She’s slurring but making sense, sorta. She blinks and looks down into her lap, and when she looks up, I watch as she brushes a tear from her cheek.

“Ash, baby?” I start to feel panicky but she shakes her head, hopefully to let me know that she’s okay. Taking a deep breath and speaking slowly, she continues.

“He spoke to Paige so that she—he, I mean. So that he could ask her if G was Georgia McCarthy. He—he was a massive Carnage fan, Marls.” Her voice rises and she sobs and then nods her head, silently composing herself before continuing. “He had all your albums on his playlist and told us all about the times he’d seen you live. He asked for mine and G’s autographs and we posed for pictures with him.” The tears run freely down her face as she speaks and cries now. “He bought us all a drink and then he just got a bit emotional and overwhelmed. He cried, Marls.” She sobs again while still trying to speak. I look across to Jim and George who are both just staring out at nothing as they listen to her.

“He cried so hard. This man, he knew exactly where he was when he got the news about Sean and he started to tell us, but he just broke down.” She wipes her nose on the back of her arm, coz my baby’s classy like that and I wouldn’t change her for the world.

“It was hard. It was hard to watch a complete stranger cry like that and it just brought it all back.” Her voice breaks into another sob before she takes a few deep breaths and continues. “So yeah, anyway. Paige’s face was a picture when she realised he had no clue who she was and he was only interested in her old aunties. It was funny. So, so funny.”

She forces a smile on her beautiful tear-stained face as she ends her story. I stand and nod my head for a few seconds, not wanting to make eye contact with my sister right now, but not sure what to say either.

“So you all decided to get drunk to celebrate?” I go for the ‘trying to be funny’ angle.

“Ferzactly,” says Jim, “but the shervice here is sit—too slow, so now we’re nearly sober again.”

“Oi. You can soon fuck off, back to your gaff if you don’t like the service at mine.” I tell her over my shoulder as I walk back to the kitchen to find them more champagne.

“Love you, Rock Star.” I hear Ash call out.

“Love you, Baby.”

“We love you Butt.” Jimmie and George shout out, and then proceed to cackle again.

Yeah, I’ll explain that inside joke later.

The girls become a little more subdued for all of ten minutes after that, but once the champagne starts flowing again, the noise level rises, all except for George, that is. She remains quiet, staring out over the pool and the tennis courts.

My alarm system bleeps, letting me know that someone has punched in the gate code and is approaching the house. I check on the monitor and see Cam’s Range Rover heading up the drive.

The front door is unlocked and I know that he’ll just let himself in. Georgia doesn’t notice as he stands, leaning against the doors that lead from the house to the deck. He gestures with his finger to his lips for me not to announce his arrival, and I get the pleasure of watching him look at George with complete and utter devotion written in his eyes as he raises his sunglasses to his head. G must sense she’s being watched as she turns and looks right at him, her face lighting up.

I’m turning into such a sad ol’ fucker. I can’t help but grin as I watch the silent exchange between my sister and her husband.

He walks towards her, lifts her from her chair and sits in it himself, placing G on his lap.

“Kitten.” Is all that he whispers into her hair, kissing her head as he does.

“T.” She greets him.

“Love the fuck outta you.”

“You better.”

“Heard we’ve had some tears. Tough day?”

“S’all better now you’re here.”

“I’m always here, Mrs. King, always.”

“T.D.H! How’s it hanging, dude?” My wife greets Cam, ending their moment as she leans in for a kiss to his cheek as she does.

They share a special bond, those three—well, the four of us, I suppose. We were all there to witness Cam and Georgia’s twin girls that Ashley had carried for them, being delivered by caesarean section over eleven years ago.

I can honestly say that it was like watching my own children being born, and equally as stressful. But just like with your own kids, when the drama of the birth was all over and the calm set in, I had the pleasure of witnessing this giant of a man fall apart when first one, then his second daughter, were placed in his arms.

My alarm bleeps again, letting me know that Lennon is approaching with food.

The rest of the evening is spent with the girls being noisy and us blokes just sitting back and enjoying the show.

Nobody made it to bed before three in the morning and the last to leave were Len and Jimmie at around noon on Sunday. Georgia and Cam leaft a little earlier to get back to the kids.

All of this means that I don’t get a chance to read again until Ash has gone to bed on Sunday night.