CHAPTER FOUR

1985

The following days were a frantic mess. Georgia didn’t leave her room, Maca wouldn’t stop ringing the house or knocking at the door, eventually deciding to sit outside all day in his car because Dad wouldn’t let him near my sister. Then the press arrived, along with the fans, and I couldn’t leave the house without them chasing me up the street.

Georgia had a week of exams and had to be escorted to and from school. I went up to her room with an apology all prepared in my head, but she just closed the door in my face without saying a word.

That Thursday, we flew off to Sweden for the last two shows on the European leg of our tour. They were a complete sell out. Kombat Rock celebrated with a massive after-party on the final night, but we got on a plane and flew home in silence. Billy and Tom had their girlfriends with them while Lennon, Maca, and I were alone, none of us talking to each other, or anyone else.

We got a much-needed break from each other the following week. Maca rang the house a couple of times for G, but Dad threatened to string him up by the balls with the phone cord if he didn’t stop. I went to stay with my uncle Fin for a few days, as it was so hard being at home. The press were still hanging about outside, George still wouldn’t speak to me, and then there was the guilt. Fuck, so much guilt it was eating me up. Watching Maca withdraw was bad enough, but standing in my sister’s doorway, listening to her cry herself to sleep at night, just about broke my heart. She wasn’t just dealing with the split from Maca. The fuckers at the newspapers had written some god-awful things about her, all of it bullshit. My parents had kept a lot from her, but the bitches at school took great pleasure in filling her in on what they were saying. Then there were the pyscho fans with their constant phone calls and hate mail, but one day came the blow that really broke her―a padded envelope full of dog shit, wrapped in a plastic bag. It arrived with a note...

For breaking Maca’s heart, you little slut.

We hope the rest of your life is full of dog shit!

I was in my bedroom when she must’ve opened it. I ran to her room when I heard my mum shouting, reaching it at the same time as my dad got to the top of the stairs. G just sat on her bed, tears rolling down her face, her blue eyes wide as she looked between my mum and Dad.

“Why?” she cried. “Why? What did I do? I was a good girlfriend. I loved him―I loved him so fucking much!”

“Oh Georgia,” my mum cried.

“Why do they hate me, mum? He fucked up, not me.” She turned her eyes to me. “You ... you and him. You did this but it’s me they hate. Why?” She cried even harder.

“Go downstairs, get Len on the phone. The label needs to put something in place. I’m not having this. I’m not fucking having it,” my dad speaks through clenched teeth as I watched mum rock Georgia in her arms.

“Move your fucking arse, boy, before I kick it down them stairs,” he shouted.

The following day, we were all at the record label, listening to the final cut of the album. It was releasing Monday, and our UK leg of the tour started off on Wednesday at the Palais on Shepherd’s Bush Road. It wasn’t a particularly large venue, but over the years, Maca and I had seen a lot of our favourite bands play there, including my all-time favourite bands like The Clash, The Jam, and we’d even managed to get in to see The Sex Pistols when we far too young.

Watching The Clash perform ‘(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais’ is a memory that would always stay with me. It’s the reason my son is called Joe.

Maca’s eye caught mine as our meeting winded down. We were all heading over to the BBC shortly to do an interview to be aired on Sunday, and then to Capitol Radio for a live interview.

“Can we talk?” he asked me with a slight tilt of his head, which I’d assumed meant that he didn’t want to do it in front of everyone.

Len watched our interaction and steered everyone out of the room, leaving me to face my best mate. My mouth was suddenly dry and my insides were not happy.

“Whatever issues you two have got going on, you need to get them sorted. Next week is the biggest in the history of this band. It’s what we’ve all worked so hard for all these years, and I’m not letting the fallout from your fuck up affect the rest of us. Say what you’ve gotta say to each other and let’s move on. I love you both, but could happily bang your heads together right now.” Len looked between both of us, then left the room, calling out, “Sort it out, children. The limo leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Len had just turned twenty-one, but he managed us like a seasoned pro, and I was so glad that he was a part of what we are about to embark on. I’d been so swept away with being a rock star while we’d been touring Europe that I’d not taken any notice of the legalities and formalities of releasing our first album; the rights, the royalties, the obligations. I’d let it all slide, but not Len. He’d spent hours with Marcus, who worked for my dad, going through contracts and paperwork, finally getting us a better deal than we were originally offered.

I’d thought to myself, ‘One day, I’ll thank Len properly, but right now, I need to let my best mate know how sorry I am.’

“I’m sorry, Mac; I fucked up. As soon as George will let me talk to her, I’ll explain everything.”

I looked at him, and I mean really looked at him. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair looked straggly, and he almost had a full beard going on. He’d even lost weight, all since we’d gotten home from France.

He took in a deep breath and shook his head. “We both fucked up, Marls. I should never have gone back to the room knowing she would be there. You’re single, so what you do is up to you, but I should’ve known better. I’ve got G, and I love G. The last fucking person I should’ve been anywhere near is Haley fucking White.”

I didn’t agree with what he was saying, but I nodded my head anyway.

“Have you spoken to her?” I asked. He blew out a long breath that made his hair move and I watched as his eyes filled with tears.

“Na, I can’t get past your parents on the phone. I’ve sent her a couple of letters, but I don’t know if she’s read them.”

He leaned back on the table we were all sitting around earlier; his knuckles white where he was gripping the edge so tightly.

“Did you hear what happened the other day, with the dog shit?” I asked him. It was a low move. I was trying to deflect the focus onto our crazy fans and away from my wrongdoings.

“Yeah, Jim told me. I put out a statement saying that what Georgia and I are going through is a private matter and in no way are events that happened in France her fault.” He looked up at me and shrugged his shoulders. “Hopefully, that’ll be enough to make the pyscho fuckers leave her alone.” I nodded my head, but I doubted his statement would help. Our fans seemed to be out for George.

“She should be here, Marls. She should be by my side, by our sides. These are the biggest events of our lives and she should be a part of it. I miss her so fucking much.” He finally broke down and cried as he spoke, wiping his nose and his tears on the back of his hand.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucking lost without her. How the fuck could I be so stupid? The one person, possibly the only person G hates in the world, and I do something like that.”

“She’ll come around, Maca. You know what she’s like when she’s pissed off. Just give her a chance to calm down.” I tried to reassure him, but he shook his head at me.

“Thing is, Marls, is she’s not pissed off or angry, she’s broken. I fucking broke her ... I broke us. She trusted me and I fucked it all up.”

“She’s hurt and she’s angry, but she loves you, we all know that. Perhaps give her a bit of space to get her head around it all. Stop calling, and just write the letters. Let her read them and take them in at her own pace. She’ll get there, it’s just gonna take her a while.”

“I’ve got no fucking choice, really, do I? She’s there and I’m here, about to head off around the country. I’m gonna ask her to come and see us play in Liverpool on my birthday. It’s still a few weeks away and I’m hoping that she’ll hear me out by then. Even if she can’t forgive me, I still need to know that I can have her in my life―that she’ll at least talk to me.” His eyes were once again full of tears. “Coz this...” He gestures around the empty room, “This big fat nothing―this blank where she should be―is killing me, bit by bit, day by day. I’m fucking dying.”

I felt like the biggest cunt on earth. My mouth watered a little bit from the sick feeling I had inside.

“I love you man, and I’ll do everything I can to help put this right.” I stepped towards him and wrapped my arms around him. It wasn’t awkward, we’d done it before. We were artists; expressing our feelings came easy to us.

“I think you’re gonna need to, mate. I think it’s gonna take more than just me to convince your sister just how sorry I am.”