CHAPTER SEVEN

1985

Siobhan appeared beside us at the pool table with drinks for all. I’d watched her as she spoke to the little group of fan girls while she was waiting at the bar, and they were trying to edge closer.

“Where’d you pick up ya posse, Mothercare?” Maca asked.

She shrugged. “They’re not my posse, they’re yours.” She replied, winking at him. She let out a long breath, then pointed to a table away from the bar.

“Look boys, I’ll be totally honest with you here.” Maca pulled out a chair for her at the table, ever the gentleman, despite calling her a cunt before, but whatever. “I’m still earning my stripes for this game and I get sent out on all the shitty jobs. One of them is to have a wander past all the big recording studios, see if there’s anyone interesting coming or going.” She sipped from her bottle and I couldn’t help but watch the way her lips wrapped around it, the way her throat moved as she swallowed.

Swallowed ... fuck. Just that word was making me hard. Maca kicked me under the table.

“Anyway,” She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and I thought I groaned, or even came just a little teeny, tiny bit. She frowned and looked at me, shaking her head.

Head. See, that’s how my brain would function. I needed sex on a regular basis. I’d gotten used to sex on the regular, so to go without for four weeks was a long time―a long, long time.

“I’ve learnt over the past few months that the little teenybopper fans also do the same thing, hang about outside the studios, I mean.” She looked between the both of us again. “Now I don’t know where they get their info, but I’m telling ya boys, they’re better than MI5 or the CIA, or whoever the people are that know about shit.”

I watched as Maca ran his hand over his beard, then his thumb over his bottom lip. Siobhan watched him and fuck me, if she didn’t make a little noise like I’d just done watching her swallow.

“Anyway ...” She turned from him to me, her cheeks flushed, so I deliberately licked my lips, seeing as she seemed to have a thing for them. Her eyes traced the path of my tongue.

“So,” she said a little too loudly, before clearing her throat, “that little lot were all hanging about outside the studio you’ve been using this morning. They told me it was you boys that were in there and that they had it on good authority that you had been using some pub on a regular basis.” She looked over to where the girls had moved to the next table over. “I offered to buy them all a drink if they told me the name and just took a chance that you’d come in here tonight. Getting a few words from you boys could be the break I need. Just a few words―”

“Get your gang over here,” I told her.

“What?” she asked, frowning in confusion. 

“Call them over here. We’ll sign some stuff for them and then I want them gone. I don’t know what ID they showed Jock, but there is no way any of those girls are eighteen.”

Maca remained silent, sipping on his beer and observing, the way he often did.

“Yeah, I think they all have older sisters or friends, or whoever they borrowed their ID from. I don’t think the landlord looked at it too closely, apart from the two that were obviously only about twelve.” I watched as she chewed nervously on her bottom lip. “So, if I get rid of them, you’ll talk?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe we could come to some arrangement,” I tell her.

She nodded her head, licking her lips and looking between us again. “I’d be happy with an arrangement.”

“Good, now call them over.”

We signed autographs, kissed cheeks, and posed for pictures. Then we gave them twenty quid and told them to go to the corner shop and buy some sweets and lemonade, and to stay out of pubs until they were eighteen.

We spent the next couple of hours drinking beer with whiskey chasers, and I even played Siobhan at pool, beating her arse, while Maca stared at it.

I know that it wasn’t very gentlemanly of me, but I’d been buying her doubles every time I’d been to the bar, and I knew that she had to be at least a little bit drunk.

“So, let’s talk business. This arrangement, I’m assuming sex will be involved, and that’s the reason you’ve been plying me with doubles?”

Maca spit out his drink and I laughed. I liked her. She was up-front and surprisingly honest for a journalist.

“Which paper d’ya work for?” I asked.

“The Sun,” she replied with a hint of apology in her voice. “Look, I tell ya what. Don’t tell me anything, forget about all that. I’ve had a drink and I’m horny. I’m not one of your stupid little fifteen-year-old fans. I’m a grown woman, I’m twenty-eight years old, and I haven’t had sex in nine weeks. I fancy a shag and I fancy shagging both of you, at once.”

“Fuck,” is what came out of my mouth.

“If you’re twenty-eight, how come you’re only just starting out as a journalist?”

Seriously, that’s all that Maca got from what she said? Her age, and not what was on offer?

She slumped back into her chair before continuing. “I did a teaching degree, got a job teaching at primary level, and just found that it wasn’t my thing. I’ve always loved English, I have a degree in both language and literature, and I have a passion for music. Music journalism seemed like an option and now here I am, trying to earn a name for myself with that one big story.”

“By fucking your way through every band?” I asked her.

“No, I’ve never done this before ... well, not with anyone in a band before. Not anyone famous, at least.”

“So you’ve had a threesome before?” I asked, looking across to Maca as I do. I was trying to gauge his reaction, but of course I can’t, he’s completely neutral.

“Yes, I’ve had a threesome before. Two girl’s, one bloke, and me with two blokes. Had a foursome once too. I’ve been to uni, boys. Weed, whiz, trips, they all help to lower your inhibitions.”

We were still teenagers. A threesome was being offered up on a plate. What would you think the end result was gonna be?

“Jock, can you come over here a second please?” Maca suddenly called out to the landlord.

Jock threw the cloth he permanently had in his hand over his shoulder and walked over to our table. “What can I do for you boys?” he asked

“This is Siobhan,” Maca said, pointing to the girl. “She wants to come home with me and Marley. I need her to tell you right now, that if she comes home with us, she knows it’s gonna end up with us having sex with her.”

Well fuck! My boy was back and he was finally zipping up his pussy and bringing his balls to the party.

Siobhan’s mouth dropped open while Jock raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He gestured towards her with his chin. “You know what your letting yourself in for if you go home with these wee rascals lassie?”

She nodded her head. “It was me that offered, Jock, so yeah, sex is what I’m hoping will happen, with both of them.”

“Well there ya go. I’m your witness, boys.” He shook his head as he spoke. “I’m in the wrong fucking game here. I can hold a tune, ya know? Does that get me an invite? Go, have fun,” he said over his shoulder before heading back towards the bar. 

We bought a bottle of whiskey on the way back to our flat. It was actually more like a house, being the top two floors of a converted three-story house in Notting Hill. We all had a bedroom each, as well as two full bathrooms and a third toilet on the lower floor, just off the open plan; living, dinning and kitchen.

We’d only just started to see the royalties coming in from the tour and album sales. The figures were blowing us all away.

Maca and I were off to buy new cars the next day and we’d all look for our own places to live once the album is finished. We were hoping to have it released in time for Christmas, and a tour had already been lined up for Australia, Asia and the U.S, starting in February of the following year.

All that, and what was about to happen with this woman seemed surreal. It was all more than we could ever have dreamed of, but for myself and Maca being the youngest, I sometimes felt a little overwhelmed at the speed with which things had moved.

“Take her to my room,” I told Maca. I knew that all his lyrics, notebooks, and diaries were usually spread everywhere in his room, and he was pretty private about all that shit.

I felt a sudden twinge of guilt as thoughts of George flashed through my mind. Most of the new album consisted of songs about her, or heartache in general, but both musically and lyrically, it was our best work to date. Angst seemed to equal hits.

I gathered three glasses from the kitchen and headed upstairs. When I walked into the bedroom, Maca was sitting with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. I put the glasses down on the chest of drawers and poured us each a drink.

‘You know, Len will flip if he finds out about this,” he stated the obvious.

“Then we won’t fucking tell him,” I replied. “I’ve lived like a monk since we came off tour, and you’ve behaved like a nun since George, so fuck it. What’s the point of being in Britain’s band of the moment if we can’t get the occasional shag now and then?” He looked back at me, glassy eyed. Shit, I shouldn’t have mentioned George.

I turned to pass Maca his drink, just as Siobhan walked out of the bathroom that he and I shared. She was stark bollock naked. Taking the glass from my hand, she looked between Maca and me. “Chop chop, boys. Clothes off.”

I pressed play on the boom box sitting on my clothes chest and ‘Orgasm Addict’ by the Buzzcocks blasted out. We were all silent for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. Well, at least it broke the ice a little bit.

I poured more whiskey into the glass that Siobhan just emptied and passed her another. She kissed me, full on the mouth, and I ground my already hard dick against her. She broke away and walked over to the bed where Maca was sitting with his fingers laced together, hands behind his head. He didn’t take his eyes off her as she stalked across the room towards him. He reached out his hand and took the drink from her, knocking the lot back in a few gulps.

I unlaced my Doc Martens and kicked them off, pulled my jeans down and my T-shirt over my head. By the time I looked up, Siobhan was straddling Maca on the bed, and he was sucking on her tit while digging his fingers into her arse cheeks. She broke their kiss so that she could pull his top over his head. I downed my drink and brought my empty glass, along with the bottle, over to the bedside table, placing them down before crawling up behind Siobhan to join the party.

‘Lavender’ by Marillion played as I lifted Siobhan from Maca and turned her around to straddle me. He climbed off the bed and turned the light off, keeping the lamp on, before taking off the rest of his clothes and joining us.

I’ve seen Maca naked countless times before now. We’ve crossed swords pissing in the same toilet and fucked different girls on the same bed at the same time in the past, but we’d never shared a girl. I was fine with it, I just hoped that he was too.

He kissed along Siobhan’s shoulder from behind, his hands slid around to cup her tits. She continued to grind into my naked lap. The length of my dick was between her pussy lips, the tip pressed against her clit. She broke our kiss and turned her head towards Maca and I watched as their mouths collided, tongues tangling. I lowered my head and took her nipple into my mouth, Maca pulling on it at the same time. My tongue lapped at his fingers. It wasn’t intentional. I had never in my life done anything like that before, and I knew with one hundred percent certainty, that I’m wasn’t gay. Writing this doesn’t make me uncomfortable, as I’m clear on that. We were just three people enjoying each other’s bodies, caught up in the moment and just going with it.

I drew Maca’s middle and index finger into my mouth and dragged my teeth along them and Siobhan’s nipple. She let out a groan and when I looked up, they were both looking down at me.

“Fuck, you two are beautiful.” She sounded almost reverent in her tone. She moved her hands to the backs of our heads and simultaneously pulled both of our mouths to hers.

Lips, teeth, tongues. They clashed, tangled, danced, and assaulted. My hands instinctively rose and I gripped each of them by the hair.

My heart wass racing and my stomach felt like a Russian gymnast had taken up residency inside it. Backflips, forward rolls, it was all going on. And my dick? Fuck, that thing was like steel at that moment.

Siobhan shifted and suddenly I was chest to chest with Maca, dick to dick. Her legs were open, and we had a thigh each between them while she rubbed her wet pussy against us. Our heads were both turned towards her, our mouths still on hers, and each other’s.

Simply Red was singing about money being too tight to mention, when Siobhan reached between us, taking our dicks in each of her hands, then wrapping her hands around both, bringing them together.

Maca watched as she lowered her head, taking us both into her mouth at once. My hips thrusted forward of their own volition, and Maca slowly raised his head to look at me. His chest was heaving, eyes shining bright. I reached out and pushed my hands through his long hair, pulling on it so that his head tilted back slightly.

“It’s just sex,” I told him. “It’s just sex. Fucking. It means nothing, it changes nothing.” I was trying  to convince him, as much as I was trying to convince myself.

He twisted his head, forcing my fingers to give up their grip on his hair. Grabbing Siobhan by the back of hers, he pulled her up to face us. She had spit or jizz, or a combination of both, all over her chin and around her plump lips. We both dive in at the same time to kiss, lick, and suck it off.

“Jesus, you two are good.” This girl was amazing for our egos. She had no idea that we’d never done this together before. 

“You got condoms?” Maca asked.

“Yeah, in the drawer.” I gestured with my chin. Maca reached over, refilled, and then passed us our drinks before pulling a box of condoms from the drawer.

“Do you have any KY?” Siobhan asked.

“You want anal?” The surprise obvious in my voice. Girls had been a bit reluctant to give that up the last few years, since AIDS had reared its ugly head.

“Don’t you?”

“As long as I’m giving, baby. Don’t do the taking.”

“What about you, pretty boy?” She looked over to Maca.

“I’m a giver, not a taker, sweetheart. Nothing gets past my chocolate star fish, unless it’s exiting.”

I spit my drink.

“Dude, you seriously just called your arsehole a chocolate star fish? Have you inspected it that closely to know that’s what it looks like?”

“Well I was gonna call it Marley, but I thought that might cause confusion.”

“Ha, you’re funny.” I couldn’t think of anything to come back with before Siobhan interrupted.

“So, you two ... you’ve never ... with each other, I mean?”

“Fucked?” I sounded all high pitched and indignant.

“No love, never.” Maca answered. “Although he is known as cunt face to many, so I suppose it would be understandable if I was to stick my dick in his mouth one of these days.”

Ha, so my best mate’s suddenly got his balls back and became a comedian.

Fucker.

“You’re spoiling your image as the dark and brooding member of the band, Maca. Fuck off, and stop trying to be funny.” I told him. He flipped me his middle finger and blew me a kiss.

I turn to Siobhan. “No, darling. In answer to your question, we don’t fuck each other. What you saw just then was us putting on a show. The girls love it. You loved it, right?” I asked.

“Fuck yeah.”

“Well, let’s move things along then. “You up for DP?”

“I just asked for the KY, didn’t I?” I liked this girl ... woman, actually. I kept forgetting that she’s was eight, nine years older than us. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask. Why couldn’t all women be like that?  It’d leave them satisfied more often and make blokes lives so much easier.

“You fuck her, Marls, I’m happy with a blow job.” Maca said.

“You’ve not got a dose of anything, have you? I just had your dicks in my mouth, if there’s any chance you have, I need to know.”

“Sweetheart, despite what you might read about me, I’ve had just one girlfriend in the past few years.” He admits with a pissed off edge to his tone.

“Don’t mean you weren’t fucking other people.”

“I was only fucking her and she’s never fucked anyone but me.”

Okay, la, la, la. I didn’t need to be hearing this.

“So what? Me and what happened at the hotel in Paris, they’re just one-offs, are they?”

Maca reached out and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her face towards his. “I never fucked anyone in Paris, but because of the bullshit you and your mates printed about me and supposedly what happened, we’re no longer together. I’m now single, so whatever goes on here now, between us, it’s of no consequence to anyone.” He threw me a condom. “Now, you gonna suck my dick or what, Siobhan with a B?” He laid down on the bed as he asked.

We’re all silent just the sound of Annie Lennox, singing about angels, in the background.

I fought with Ash over giving our daughter that name because I didn’t want it tainted with the memory of that night, but if you’d ever tried to argue with Ashley about anything, then you’d understand why I always lose.

I watched as Maca started to stoke himself and I did the same before sliding the condom over my dick.

Siobhan leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his dick, while I reached around her body and with my middle finger, started rubbing circles over her clit.

“Move closer to him,” I said into her ear. I was kissing, licking, and dragging my teeth over the curve of her neck and across her shoulder. “Open your legs wider and lean forward.” She turned her head towards me. Her porcelain skin was flushed and her blue eyes were shining.

“I want you in my cunt.”

For a boy who was only nineteen, hearing those words caused me to nearly come all over her back, but instead, I pushed her face first onto Maca’s dick and rammed inside her from behind.

We saw Siobhan on a regular basis after that. Sometimes it’d just be me and her, sometimes just her and Maca. She brought her friend Julia along occasionally and all four of us would end up in bed together. Jules was a budding photographer, so as a thank you to them both for the no strings sex, we did an exclusive interview and photo shoot on our last day of recording at the studios. Jules went on to become one of the world’s biggest rock photographers, and Siobhan an editor of a celebrity magazine. Our paths crossed many times over the years, but our arrangement never lasted beyond that year and our meetings after that were always friendly and professional. Siobhan sadly died of ovarian cancer in 2010, and it’s the reason the UK’s biggest ovarian cancer charity receives a large donation from the Triple M event every year. Maca liked Siobhan, and I know he would’ve wanted money raised in his name to be sent in that direction.

Despite the album and a single from it being the UK’s Christmas number one, the actual day that year was horrible. I asked my parents if Maca could still come for dinner, same as he’d been doing since he was about fourteen, but they’d said no. My mum actually seemed surprised that he even wanted to because by that time, unknown to all of us, Haley the whore had already started to weave her web of deception and my mum truly believed he had moved on.

Maca refused to spend the day with his mum and her husband so instead, stayed alone at our flat, writing songs.

He gave me a gift for George before I left to go to my parents. It was odd, not waking up at their house on Christmas morning, but I just couldn’t face the atmosphere. The less time I spent around my sister, the less guilt I felt. The last time I’d seen George, she was painfully thin and looked almost drained of life. She spoke when spoken to, but treated me like I was invisible.

I slipped the present under the tree when I got there, not wanting to make a big deal of it in front of my parents. Later, when Jimmie, Len, and Bailey arrived, the last of the presents were given out but it wasn’t there. I found out years later. My mum had removed it and hidden it from George in case it would upset her. It was a silver bracelet with a G hanging from it, matching the necklace he’d bought her a few years before. When it came out that my mum had played a hand in keeping them apart all those years, she admitted that like the letters and everything else Maca had sent, she’d returned it with a note, once again asking him not to send her gifts or attempt to make contact. He finally took notice after that. My mum returning his Christmas gift was what made him stop sending the letters and parcels, but it didn’t stop him from buying her things or writing her letters, he just never sent them.

Georgia has a huge crate somewhere, full of Maca’s letters to her that were either never sent, or returned. It also contains his diaries that he always kept, the notepads he always had with him, and old video cassette tapes of interviews and performances where he either directly or indirectly mentioned her. There were music tapes of songs that we’d never heard, and songs that he wrote but never allowed anyone else to read or see.

Ash told me that after a few previous attempts, George has finally decide to start working through and cataloguing the contents of the old packing crate. I’m hoping that one day soon, she’ll want to share anything that’s relevant, but at the same time, I’ll totally respect her decision if she wants to keep it all private.

I sometimes wonder how Cam copes with it all. My sister is obviously head over heels in love with the bloke, but at the same time, we all know that nothing or no one would ever be able to replace Maca and what they had together. I think her and Cam work because he’s never tried to do that. Their love is different, much easier to be around, where George and Maca’s love was intense, bordering on obsessive. It was like they needed each other more than air. I don’t know how to describe it, really, but that’s how it came across as an outsider looking in.

All of this is probably going to get deleted from the book. It’s just my thoughts and really fuck all to do with anyone else. I’m writing it because it helps me sort shit out in my head. It helps me make sense of thoughts and feelings I had about certain situations back then, all these years later.

Maca had the right idea, keeping a diary and always scribbling in those notebooks of his, but when we meet again, I’ll never admit that to him. 

After sitting through a strained Christmas dinner, mostly spent watching my sister move food around her plate, rather than attempting to put any of it into her mouth, I made my excuses and left. As I was putting my coat on in the hallway, my mum came out and asked me what Maca had done that day.

“He’s at our place alone, mum. You said he couldn’t come here, remember?”

She nodded and sucked in her cheeks as she swallowed.

“Marley,” she said my name as if it were almost a plea. My sister’s obvious heartbreak was taking a toll on her, like Maca’s was on me, and I suddenly needed a cuddle from my mum.

My mum had always been tiny, but she felt frail when I wrapped my arms around her. I breathed in the Dior perfume that she’d always worn and held her close as she rested her head on my chest.

“I miss you, Marley. I hate what your sister’s breakup has done to our family.” She said quietly, her voice humming through me.

“I know, mum, I know, but Maca’s as much of a mess as G is. I just wish there was a way we could get them to talk to each other.”

She stepped back so that she could look up at me. For a few seconds, she looked like she was going to say something, but she didn’t. If only she had let me know that Whorely had been to see her, the truth would’ve come out so much sooner. Maca and G would’ve sorted their shit out, got married, had babies, and gotten the happily ever after they both deserved.

“I don’t think your sister is ready to see him yet. She leaves the room if his name even gets mentioned on the telly. It breaks my heart to watch her, Marls. I’m her mum and I don’t know how to fix this, to fix her. I just want to wrap her in cotton and protect her from the world. I’m so bloody angry with that boy.” She was crying as she spoke, and I was struggling not to.

“Mum, please don’t be angry with Maca. It was my fault more than it was his.” I pleaded with her.

“Yeah, well, I’m angry with you as well. Drugs Marley? All those drugs, and what about that AIDS that they’re all dying of. Sex and drugs ... I don’t like it, not one little bit. I know you’re a big rock star now, but you’re still my baby boy.  I wish you were all little again, all here with me, tucked up in bed at night by seven so I knew exactly where you were and what you were up to.” She swayed from side to side as she spoke, reminding me of when she rocked me as a kid and I loved it.

“I’m sorry, mum. I’ve been good lately, I promise, and I’m always careful. No condom, no shag. The label has given us the talk about AIDS, unwanted pregnancies, girls trying to trap us, all that stuff, and we follow the rules.” My cheeks burned as I spoke that way to my mum. It was Christmas day, and that wasn’t really a conversation I wanted to be having with her ... Ever.

“Is Sean really at your place all on his own?” She was obviously happy to change the subject too.

“Yes, mum, he really is.”

“Well, just you wait a minute while I plate up a dinner for the boy. I hate to think of him not getting a proper Christmas lunch today.”

Less than an hour later, I pulled onto the drive of the place I currently called home. It wasn’t not home, but now, neither was my parents’ place. As long as there was animosity between me and my sister, I wouldn’t feel comfortable there. I felt a pang of loneliness uncurl from my belly and snake its way into my chest. I didn’t belong anywhere then.

I turned off the engine of my new car and looked across at Maca’s black version of my red Escort XR3i. We had the colours custom made to match the bands logo. His was black with a red trim and interior. Mine was red with a black trim and interior. Maca had an older version, one that my dad had recently sold for him, but our babies were brand spanking new.

I banged my head on the steering wheel of my brand new car and decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I was better off than a lot of people, and if I felt lonely then, how the fuck would Maca be feeling?

When I let myself in the front door of our place, it seemed to be in darkness, but I could hear the faint sound of a guitar strumming. I put Maca’s dinner and dessert in the kitchen and made my way up to our bedrooms. His door was open and he was sitting on the bed with his legs out in front of him, back pressed against the headboard, strumming on his acoustic.

There were papers spread all around him, lyrics and music sheets, and a pencil tucked behind his ear. He had shaved off the beard that he’d had most of the summer, but his hair was still long. My heart sort of hurt as I heard my sister’s voice in my head, always telling Maca how much she loved his hair longer.

He sensed me watching him and looked up at me.

“All right?” I asked him.

“I’m good.” He leaned across and reached for a bottle of Jack sitting on the chest of drawers next to his bed. He took a swig straight from the bottle then offered it to me. I stepped forward and took it from him and brought it to my lips.

I watched as he pulled the pencil from behind his ear and crossed something out on a piece of paper, then wrote something else. He then picked up a music sheet and made changes to that.

“There’s a dinner downstairs for you if you’re hungry. My mum sent it. I have a present for you too, probably the usual.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Shit, I didn’t think I was your parents’ favourite person. I wasn’t expecting a present ... I didn’t get them anything.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “They think of you as family. Families fuck up, and they know that.”

He nodded his head. “Shame your sister didn’t see things that way.” I remained silent, not knowing how to reply.

“What’s that you’re working on?” I asked and gestured with my chin towards the papers spread all over the bed.

“Something new I’ve written, but I just can’t get the tune right. I need you for that.”

Maca was great with the lyrics, but I was just as good, if not better, than he was with the music. It’s why we worked well together over the years. Billy and Tom never wrote lyrics, but they were both amazingly talented musicians and could turn my humming of a tune into an intricate musical masterpiece within minutes. We’d grown and evolved over the years, and although we’d improved massively, we still had a lot to learn.

“You wanna work on it now, or d’ya wanna eat?” I asked.

“Go get your guitar, I’ll eat later.”

I carry the Santa Sack, (my mum still insisted on putting all our presents into it), to my room and empty the contents over the bed.

Despite the money I was earning, my parents still bought me the usual socks, underwear, and aftershave, as well as a checked Ben Sherman shirt. I had a vintage looking, Small Faces T-shirt from Jim and Len, along with a rare European import copy of ‘That’s Entertainment’ by The Jam. Bailey had given me a bottle of bourbon.

As I reached for Maca’s gifts from my mum and Dad, I noticed another gift, still wrapped. I recognised Georgia’s handwriting on the tag instantly and I was shocked to see that it was for me. I tore apart the wrapping and opened the cardboard pouch, tipping it upside down and shook it over my bed. A black leather guitar strap slid out. It had red stitching and the heart shaped crying eye, which was the bands logo, stitched into the leather, along with the letters B B M.

I read the message on the tag properly...

To my Big Brother Marley,

Merry Christmas!

Your Little Sister Georgia

XXXXX

I ran my thumb and finger over the leather, my emotions at war inside my head and my heart. I wanted to be angry at my sister for shutting me out, for not being prepared to talk to me or hear Maca out, but at the same time, when I saw her, it was then that I understood how hurt she was and I knew that she just needed time to heal. The small gesture from G gave me hope that one day, I’d have her back in my life.

I folded up the strap and placed it carefully in my drawer, grabbed Maca’s presents from the bed, and headed back into his room.

I sat on his bed and rolled a joint as he unwrapped the standard socks, boxers, and aftershave that my mum and Dad got him every year.

When I’d finished rolling and lit the spliff, Maca passed me a sheet of A4 paper with words written all over it. I moved up the bed and leaned back on the headboard next to him so that I could use the light from the lamp and start to read the words to the song that he’d written.

Seaside Heart

My heart, it’s like a seaside town, on a dark, winter’s day.

The shutters are down. The crowds stay away.

Its beat it resounds, resembling a military tattoo.

But devoid of all feeling, since there wasn't you.

My heart, it’s like a seaside town, when the wind blows hard.

And lightning strikes, all emotion charred.

It's bleak and it's lonely

It's cold and it's bare.

The sun doesn't shine.

Now that you're not there.

I miss you so much,

That I can barely breathe.

Without your warmth, taste, and touch,

I'm brought to my knees.

Like a seaside town

I'll wait for my sun.

Keep my love boarded up

Till the day that you come.

I'll wait and I'll hope

I'll beg and I'll plead.

Worship at your feet,

If that's what you need.

Just like the sunshine

I know you'll return.

Our bond too strong,

For you not to be mine.

Until that day happens,

When the sun shines bright,

I’ll keep your heart in my hands,

My memories held tight.

Like a seaside town

I’ll always believe

In the love that we share,

Of you and of me.

I ran my hand over my face, struggling to find the right words to respond. I took a draw on the joint before passing it to Maca. I scratched at my head and let the effects of the weed slalom through my brain. “I don’t know what to say. Fuck, mate, that’s fucking brilliant. I-I honestly I have no words.”

We sat in silence for a few long moments. I’d had one question going around in my head and although I wasn’t scared to ask it, I was terrified of the answer.

“Is this really how you feel?” I eventually got the courage to ask, already knowing what the answer would be.

“Every second of every day.”

“Fuck, Mac ... how? I mean, shit. How do you get through a day? How can you live your life feeling like this?”

He took a long draw, then passed the joint back to me. I stared up at the ceiling as I waited for his answer. I heard him blowing out the smoke he’d inhaled.

“I can’t, not anymore. I’m done, Marls. I love your sister, I’ll never stop loving her, but I need to let her go. If I don’t, it’s gonna kill me.”

I turned my head towards him, my mind racing with what that meant.

“You’ve not ... I mean, you wouldn’t? Shit.” I sat up and tried to get what I wanted to say straight in my head.

“You wouldn’t do anything stupid though, would ya, mate?” Despite feeling boneless and light, my heart was racing as I asked.

“You mean top myself?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean, Mac. Please tell me that’s not something you’d do.” I smoked the joint down to the roach and put it out before turning to look at him.

“Do you never think about dying Marls?” The gold and amber in his brown eyes showed through in the lamp light and I laughed, rather than answer his question.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked. “That was a serious question, ya dick.”

I laughed again. “Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking that your eyes look pretty in the lamp light.”

“My eyes look pretty?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“You’re fucking mad. You’re not gonna make a pass at me or anything, are you Marls? Coz no offence, mate, but you’re just not my type.”

“No, Mac, I’m not gonna make a pass at you. Sorry, I’ll just shut up.”

“Yeah, I think that’d be for the best.”

“Although, we’ve never spoken about what happened with Siobhan that time.”

He let out a long sigh and turned his head to look at me, raising first his eyebrows, and then his shoulders in a shrug. “What’s there to talk about? Like you said, at the time, it was just sex. We were both fucking the same person at the same time. It’s happened since then, and I’m sure that it’ll happen again, but it’s not like we fucked each other. I love ya, Marls, but I have absolutely no desire to fuck you. No offence, mate”

I smiled at him. “None taken. Your eyes still look pretty in the lamplight though.”

“Fuck off being a dick,” he said with a grin. I couldn’t help but feel pleased that I’d made him smile.

“And stop avoiding the question that I just asked.”

“What was the question?” I asked.

“Do you ever think about dying?” I decided to go with honesty.

“Not often, no. It’s crossed my mind occasionally, especially when we were on tour and I was using a lot, but now that I’ve stopped all that ol’ bollocks, no, not often.” I paused for a few seconds, actually thinking about my own death.

“I could never put my family through the consequences of me doing something deliberate. I hate to think what that might do to them,” I said.

“Yeah, well, that’s probably the difference between me and you.”

“What is?”

“You’ve got people that give a fuck. Who gives a shit about me?”

“Oh, charming. So what about me and my family? What about Tom, Bill, all of our fans? Dude, how can you lay there and even say that?” Anger started to boil away at his crass comment and I actually wanted to punch him. “I know things have been shit between you and my family lately, but they still love you the same. Even George, despite everything, still loves you.”

“Yeah, perhaps they do, perhaps she does, but not enough to get me an invite to Christmas dinner and not enough to reply to one of my letters, or to pick up the phone and say ‘let’s talk.’ Not enough for much, really.”

“I’m not defending her, but she’s hurt and angry, and perhaps we all have to accept the fact that she’s never gonna forgive us. I hope that’s not the case, but I don’t think George is gonna be getting in touch anytime soon, but that’s not to say she wouldn’t care if anything happened to you.”

I didn’t want to tell him that she gave me a Christmas present, as I thought he’d take it one of two ways. He’d either be really hurt that she didn’t get him anything, or he’d see it as G’s walls coming down. And as much as I would’ve hoped that’d be the case, I didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to give Maca another chance.

“Think about it. If she’s this devastated at the thought of you with another bird, can you imagine what state she’d be in if anything ever happened to you?”

He shook his head. “Probably the same way I’d feel if anything ever happened to her.”

“Well, there ya go then. Now, stop talking shit and let’s get a tune going for this lyrical masterpiece you’ve spent the day writing.” 

Seaside Heart was the fastest and biggest selling single of 1986 in five countries.