Playing Along (34 page)

“I know, they’re obsessed!” says Lexi, grabbing a potsticker and thinking about George again the minute she hears the word cat. Goldfish. Cats. Grapefruits. Babies. Kiss. The list goes on.

Lexi’s mother moves away with the potstickers, Andrew close behind.

Meg takes Lexi’s hand, “Look Lex, I’d really rather not be talking about this, tonight of all nights, but I want you to hear about it from me and not read about it on line.”

Oh God
thinks Lexi.
Something’s happened to George
.
Is he dead? Is George dead?
Meg carries on, “The news came out today—I read it on
TMZ
just before we left. George is
not
the father of Fanny’s baby. Duncan is. Not that it makes a bit of difference, because I know he’s a prick and we hate him now. But I just thought you’d want to know…”

It takes a second for the news to register. He’s not dead. He’s not a father. He’s not with Fanny. She’s not with Lance.

“Are you okay, Lex? You look a little hot. Maybe you need some fresh air?” Those were the exact words George had said to her that day in the studio. The day he had led her outside. Led her astray.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Meggy… I just need—” Lexi’s sentence hangs in the balance. Unfinished. Incomplete. Waiting patiently for an ending.

GEORGE
22
^nd
August, 2010
Stanford in the Vale, Oxfordshire

Oh, oh, oh squeeze me tightly

Myyyyy Graaaapefruit Girls

Myyyyy Graaaapefruit Girls

Even having to sing at Polly’s second wedding cannot mar the feeling of longed-for relief George has been experiencing since getting the test results back. He isn’t a dad. He doesn’t have to deal with Fanny for the rest of his life. He only has to be Uncle George. Duncan and Fanny are ecstatic. Neither of them wanted George to be the one. They named their daughter Sabine, at the final request of her mother’s dead lover. The lunatics are running the asylum.

Talking of lunatics, George cannot fathom that here he is, fifteen years later, singing “The Grapefruit Girls” to the grapefruit girls. He wouldn’t believe it if he’d read it in a book. Polly’s posse, commandeered by Amelia Hoffman, are sitting front and centre in the local church hall. They are all gazing up at George adoringly and singing along. Meanwhile, the triplets, dressed in two-foot tuxedoes, are accompanying him on the tambourine, triangle and recorder. Polly, bulging out of her original dress, is also beaming from the front row, while Martyn and George’s parents are all tapping their feet enthusiastically.

I wanted you, wanted you, wanted you

I needed you, you needled me

The Genius of the moment is lost on everyone but George.

Last week, just days after Sabine’s arrival, George had picked up the phone to hear his usually stoic mother sobbing.

“George… Polly’s at the hospital.” George had not spoken to Polly since his disastrous birthday dinner.

“Okay, calm down, Mum. What’s happened to her?” He was walking home when he’d taken the call. He remembers having to sit down on the curb. He remembers a queasy swell rising in his gut.

“Not to her. It’s Pad. The boys were at a friend’s house. He’s fallen off a trampoline. I think he was unconscious. Your father’s gone with them to the A&E and I have Archie and Trevor here with me now, but I’m just so… so frightened, George. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, Mum. It’s okay.”

George had stood up and gone home and found his car keys. He had driven straight to his parents’ cottage in record time and spent the evening making his mum tea and taking turns playing Connect Four with Archie and Trevor. When it was time to put the boys to bed, George had been assigned tucking in duty.

“Uncle George?” Trevor had asked, staring up at him with questioning eyes.

“Yes, Trev?”

“If Pad doesn’t get better, we won’t have enough people in our band. Will you and Duncan be in our band?” George had laughed and ruffled Trevor’s dark curls.

“He’ll get better, mate, don’t worry.” It turned out, after an MRI and three x-rays, that Padstow had broken his leg, grazed his face and suffered a minor concussion. He was predicted to fully recover and be just as capable of creating mayhem as he was before. Trampolines and all bouncy surfaces were banned. George and his mother had hugged in the kitchen, while the other two boys slept, glaringly incomplete without their brother. George had stayed in the empty bed.

As he plays the final bars of “The Grapefruit Girls,” he changes the lyrics slightly to suit the occasion,

All those hours

Lover’s powers

Myyyy Graaaapfruit Girls

I thought love would never win

Until Polly and Maar…tyn

Everyone in the church halls rises to their feet simultaneously applauding and whistling their appreciation. George stands up from the piano, takes a small bow, salutes his nephews and blows his sister a kiss. He hops off the stage, leaving Archie, Padstow (left leg in a bright blue cast) and sweet little Trevor to bask in the glory. George’s parents rush over to him. His father pats his back fervently, while his mother gives him a hug.

“Very, very nice, son. Very impressed. Looks like those piano lessons paid off.”

“Thanks, Dad,” says George, realizing that his father truly doesn’t have any idea quite how huge Thesis are.

“George, dear, that was special. Look, it made me cry! It means so much to your sister and to us. Thank you.” His mother wipes her eyes with a small white handkerchief produced from her sleeve, and George has the unusual feeling, for perhaps the first time ever, that his parents are proud of him. Despite having played at the 02, Glastonbury, Madison Square Gardens, The Hollywood Bowl, he has an inkling that this gig at the church hall might go down in his history as one of the more momentous ones. He has spent so long searching for his parents’ approval. Who would have guessed that it would be Polly eventually leading him to it?

Talking of Polly, here she is in a synthetic cloud of white, holding two glasses of champagne. She hands one to George. “So, George… what do you think of your talented nephews? Do you reckon they might be following in their uncle’s footsteps?” George accepts this as a backhanded compliment.

“Blew me away, Pol. In fact I’d say they totally upstaged me.”

“They
are
good, aren’t they?” says Polly, who having experienced some real life drama, is now able to brag about her boys with a little more humility.

“Yes, they are. You’re lucky,” says George.

“I thought you thought
you
were the lucky one?” asks Polly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” says George, realizing what a steep learning curve he’s been on over the last few months. He’s almost afraid to look down.

“It doesn’t always have to be a competition, does it? Why can’t we both be lucky?” She holds up her glass of champagne and George holds up his.

“To luck!” he says, chiming his glass with hers.

“And love,” says Polly. “Who knows, George, maybe one day you’ll get married too?”

“Maybe not,” says George, wondering wistfully if Lexi is married yet.

“You
never
know,” says Polly.

“Yeah, Pol, I guess that’s right, you never do,” and it occurs to George that his sister, whom he used to categorize as one of the most clueless people alive, has just made one of the truer observations of them all.

LEXI
September 4
^th
, 2010
Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

Lexi has run all the way from a parking lot on Hollywood Boulevard. She is having difficulty catching her breath as she now sprints up the steep hill to try to reach the entrance to The Garden Boxes. The concert has started. George’s muffled voice fills the sky amidst the stars and the tops of eucalyptus trees. She tries to breathe.

When Russell had told her about the tickets last week, she’d made up a feeble excuse. “Oh damn, I’ve just joined a book club and that night is the first meeting.
Eat, Pray, Love.
Damn!”

Russell had looked at her strangely, “It’s only I thought you’d want to come along with Mildred and me, maybe bring Meg. We’re taking a picnic.”

Thesis were finishing off their North American tour and were playing the Hollywood Bowl on Saturday. Russell had been sent four VIP tickets, compliments of the band. Somehow George’s and Lexi’s almost love affair had eluded Russell, so he had no idea why Lexi might not want to be there. At this point, it also wasn’t crystal clear to Lexi herself why she didn’t want to be there, except the thought of seeing him again petrified her, like driving onto the off ramp. Unthinkable. So why was she thinking about it? Russell had held out the two tickets. They looked harmless enough. “Just take them, Lexi, in case you change your mind. We’re invited backstage afterwards. I’m sure the band would like to see you. Gabe often asks after you.”

Lexi had pocketed the tickets guiltily as if they were contraband. They had sat in her bedside drawer for a week. Would George want to see her? Surely she had just been the fleeting flavor of the month. He’d never contacted her again, but it is likely that he had heard about her engagement and felt equally slighted by her. She would never know the answers unless she asked him. As the week went on, the idea of asking him grew bigger and bigger in her mind, until it was no longer an idea but an imperative. She’d go to the concert. She’d see him backstage. She’d ask him if… she hasn’t yet decided what she’s going to ask him, but she’s sure it will be obvious at the time. Then she can truly move on. End of story. Closure.

Lexi reaches the entrance now and thrusts her ticket at a woman with a flashlight who directs her to a box not far from the stage. It’s a balmy September night but when Lexi looks up at George, she feels every inch of her begin to tremble. His beard has gone and his hair is shorter. He’s singing “A Suitable Dawn.”

Your fragile heart

So torn apart and I’m

Here now, here now

She tries to block out the words. Mildred and Russell are thrilled by her late arrival, welcoming her into their private box where they are eating brown rice sushi and drinking organic red wine. There are seventeen thousand fans behind her, all of their eyes fixed on the stage. Every one of them caught up in the moment. Caught up in George and the band.

“What happened to
Eat, Pray, Love
?” asks Mildred, raising an eyebrow and pouring Lexi a glass of wine.

And I hear you, hear you

Lexi takes a needed gulp, “I thought I’d do that here instead.”

GEORGE
4
^th
September, 2010
Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

The sky is studded with stars. Seventeen thousand people are chanting “Theeesis! Theeeesis! Theeesis!” George and the boys walk onto the stage and the crowd explodes into an exultant cheer. The lights are bright. George can’t make out a single face and that is exactly how he wants it from now on. He picks up his guitar and says into the microphone, “Good evening, Hollywood,” and the audience scream even louder. The atmosphere is evangelical.

A few weeks ago Gabe had come to George looking concerned. “George—I know you’ve got a lot on your mind and I don’t want to add to it.” At the time they were waiting for the results of the paternity test.

“Don’t tell me, another woman has stepped up to say she’s preggers with my kid? I’m turning into Wayne Rooney.”

Gabe had chuckled, “No, no. Not yet. But I’m just putting some things in place for the west coast shows. I have to send Russell and Lexi some comp tickets. I can’t just ignore the fact they live there and we’re still doing business with them.”

George had already thought about this. He had imagined playing “Third Row” while Lexi and her “man” husband were snogging in the third row.

“Not a problem, Gabe. I’ll be very grown up about the whole thing. I won’t start blubbering on stage. In fact, maybe we should change the projector images and put photos of Sabine up instead. You know, rub the whole baby thing in her face?”

George is so grateful to Gabe for being a steady hand and for being the only one of his closest mates who is still single. The rest of them were falling like dominoes.

“I’m sure she’d find that very amusing!” Gabe had said. “So I’ll go ahead and send the tickets?”

“Send the tickets,” George had said, understanding that the Bowl concert might well be his chance at closure. Soon after that conversation, he had heard the news about the baby, and then there was Padstow’s accident, and finally Polly’s second wedding. George had come away from all three events with an odd sensation of freedom, like some ancient padlock inside of him had finally rusted and dropped off. Maybe this is what growing up feels like? Waving goodbye to his inner adolescent would be a welcome relief.

So here he is on stage, three songs into the set list, and he doesn’t even know if Lexi is there, or who she is with, but he
does
know that there is something that he needs to do. One song that needs to be sung before the book can be closed. He takes a swig of water and sits down at the piano. “How’s everyone doing?” The audience roar their approval. “Good. Good.” He glances around the stage at the rest of the band. Duncan flips a drumstick in the air and catches it effortlessly. He’s been immaculately behaved since becoming a father. He even seems to have cut back on the alcohol consumption for the time being.

George clears his throat, “Well, this is a new song. It’s actually the first time we’ve played it live.” More cheers and whistles. “I’d always imagined that the person I wrote it for would be here when we did. I don’t know if she is. Here. But I
do
know she’s in this city somewhere, so if she opens her window wide enough—maybe she’ll hear it. Alrightee then… too much information?” The audience cheer and clap. “Here goes… it’s called ‘Third Row’…”

LEXI
September 4
^th
, 2010
Hollywood Bowl, Los Angeles

It is impossible to block out the words now. She doesn’t have to imagine any more if George might be singing to her. Lexi sits very, very still and allows the music in. She can smell the sharp fresh scent of eucalyptus in the air and she can feel a delightful disbelief unfolding inside of her, as George’s voice sings everyone their story. The one he’s been waiting to tell her.