The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) (8 page)

She thought for a
moment and then sat down, squinting at the windows to spy him
moving through a room, but there was nothing. “Claire,” a voice
whispered. “Claire. I know it was you, Claire?”

The black-haired
girl got to her feet and
peered over the
bush
to see her friend at the other end of the drive,
calling softly into the wind and scrambled out of the undergrowth.
“Jack,” she replied and ran softly towards him.

“Why didn't you
just ring?”

“Because I haven't
got your number,” she moaned, and he just grunted.

“It's this
way.”

“Won't we need to
go around Harriet?”

“Nah,” he said
instantly and walked down the drive until he was alongside the
separate garage, away from the main house. A wrought iron staircase
between the perimeter of the property and the giant double garage
led to a flat above the garage, and he smiled at her. “It's well
away from Harriet!”

“Wow!” Claire
muttered as they climbed the steps and he unlocked the front door.
“It's like a separate house.”

“It was a granny
annexe I believe,” Jack explained. “But it never got used at all
and for my fourteenth birthday, my parents kitted it out for me as
a den, and then for my fifteenth, they put a recording studio in
the big bedroom.”

“It's two
bedroom,” Claire muttered as he unlocked and opened the front door
and they stepped into a narrow corridor. They both coughed as they
entered the flat and he pushed open the door to his left.

“It's been
sound-proofed,” he boasted. “And treated to stop echo, acoustics
aren't bad. We got a big computer, an interface,” he said pointing
at some dusty equipment in the corner of the room. “Filters, amps,
speakers, headphones in here,” he told her and opened a drawer
containing four expensive headphones and two microphones. “Oh and
I've got a keyboard around here – well two actually. One MIDI one
for the computer and another to play. There's some drums, electric
guitar in the other room for storage and …”

“Wow! Seriously,
this is amazing. And you'd let me borrow it for a day. Tops.”

He sighed and
pulled down two posters from the wall. She noticed his face was
printed along with two other people, above lettering that read
“Element of Surprise.” She gulped and she stopped him taking down
the third. “Ellie?”

“Yeah,” he said
quietly and she looked at the poster.

“And you stopped
coming in here, 'cause of her.”

“I got this setup
'cause of her,” he responded fiercely as he took a few deep
breaths. “It's bringing back bad memories,” he snarled. “I just
hate this place now.”

“But … can't you
just move on?” Claire asked cheerfully and insensitively.

“She was …” Jack
gulped and looked back at the poster in front of Claire before
ripping it from the wall and thrusting it aggressively in front of
the teenage girl. “I found her screwing my best friend and band
mate,” he yelled, pointing at the two faces on the poster. “And I
loved her. How can I just move on from that?” He ripped the paper
into several pieces and threw them on the floor, before storming
out of the room.

Claire flinched as
he left and sighed. She stooped down to the floor, picked up the
pieces and walked into the small reception room – also containing
pictures of their old band, and he watched as she calmly took them
down. “I'm sorry,” she told him as joined him on a small couch.
“Really I am.” He didn't respond, and Claire spoke to break the
silence. “I didn't know.”

“No,” he murmured,
deep in thought. “I knew coming back in here would be pretty awful,
but I had no idea. We went out for four years.” He wiped his eyes
and stared at the floor. “And we were in this band, great vocals
she had. And we would spend hours just singing and recording. Best
friend on the guitar and we sent demo tapes to some recording
studios. We got a bit of interest as well. Doing well. Couple of
gigs at local pubs. I know Dad wasn't happy about it, but, we did
it. Won school talent competition. Getting real close to her. She'd
always said she wanted to wait until we got married before sex and
I was fine with that, but we used to spend hours cuddling and
talking. And then on her eighteenth I proposed, and she said 'no.'
She said she wanted to split up not get engaged, and it just broke
me. I spent the night wandering the streets and came home and wrote
two songs. I went to her house that Saturday night and serenaded
her with the music I wrote to try and win her back and my best
friend comes out, half-naked with her and she tells me that they
have been screwing for a year and just tells me to move on.”

“Crap,” Claire
muttered, and Jack sniffed.

“I've never had a
worst weekend. And this place, I was here so much with her. Our
first kiss was here. Our first song together was there, our first
everything was in these four walls.”

“Then maybe you
should reclaim it,” Claire suggested. “Maybe, clean it up and make
music again with someone else and banish the painful memories.
'Cause if you start having happy times here again, you won't have
it reminding you of her, will you?”

He snorted, and
Claire squeezed his hand causing him to smile. “I am not sure I can
make music at the moment. It's just too fresh.”

“My friend has
troubles too,” Claire told him in a calm, soothing voice. “I think
you two will get on. She's quite a livewire and is very confident.
Look, Jack, we don't have to clean this up for me to use, if it's
too painful. If you want me to leave and …”

“No,” Jack
interrupted. “You're right. I can't feel sorry for myself
forever.”

“No,” Claire
muttered. She bowed her head and glanced around the room. “And if
music used to make you happy, perhaps cleaning it could mean a new
start,” she chirped optimistically. “I mean, if it made you happy
once then you could find other people to do it with. And then
you'll forget about her. Surely?”

Jack sighed. “I
don't think it's that easy.”

“You should try,”
Claire asserted and licked her lips. “No harm in trying is
there?”

Jack snorted.
“Maybe,” he begrudgingly admitted.

“But first, this
place needs a really good clean! Are there any dusters in here?”
She opened the door to the toilet and gagged; the water had dried
up and the smell from the sewer had punctuated the air. She flushed
it immediately and turned to her friend. “If I give you a list of
everything I need, cleaning product-wise, would you know where to
find them in the house? I'll clean it as a thank you for letting me
use it, but I would like to start tonight, if you don't mind. You
know where stuff is kept?”

“Yeah,” Jack
promised and then shrugged. “Well maybe.”

“I need polish,
duster, cleaning spray, cloth, vacuum cleaner, air freshener …”

“Can you write
this down?” Jack asked with a smile. “I'll only forget.”

“Sure,” Claire
said with a smile.

“And I know
we’ve got a bottle of Pimms in the cupboard. I’ll bring that too,”
he added with a grin. “All this talk about exes, I think I need a
drink!”

1. Chapter
   VII
   

“What's this?”
Claire asked as she straightened the mixing desk and Jack passed
her a silver metal object.

“It's a key,” he
said with a grin, stating the obvious.

“Yes I can see
that,” she replied. “I am not blind. What's it for?”

Jack hesitated.
“It's a front door key. A key to this place.”

“Why do I need
that?”

He shrugged.
“Well, when your friend is here, you won't want me around and,
well, you can come and go. If you leave it in the plant pots at the
bottom of the steps, I'll pick it up when you've finished. Just
send me a text.”

“Oh,” Claire muttered in a disappointed voice. “I
kind of wanted you here to work the bloody knobs and buttons. I
can't do this stuff. What do you think I am, a bloody DJ?” He
smiled, and she stepped back. “If you want to, that is. You sort of
sounded like you wanted to earlier.”

“Sure,” he agreed
and looked around the spotless room.

“Was it ever this
clean?”

“It never smelt of
peach,” he teased the buxom girl as he gently nodded. Posters of
his band had been replaced with photographs of musical instruments
that Claire had purchased from the market, as well as an LP that
she had spray-painted gold and fixed to a frame. It looked smart
and semi-professional, and the charming girl squeezed his hand; it
had taken her three evenings, but they both agreed it looked
fantastic.

“Is it right for
banishing memories?” She asked with a playful smile that caused
Jack to grimace and then reluctantly concede that it was possible
he could forget Ellie. “OK, when is best for Paige to join us?”

“Paige?”

“My friend! You
know, the singer?”

“Oh,” Jack cried
as he realised what Claire was asking. “I thought your friend was a
boyfriend?”

Claire laughed. “I
told you, I am single! No, Paige, she's umm … I met her on holiday,
and we won the karaoke contest, I thought I told you about
her.”

“Yeah, but I
didn't realise she was local.”

“She's north
Croydon.”

“Oh,” he muttered.
“That's the dangerous bit.”

Claire laughed.
“Yes, it's the dangerous bit, but she's not dangerous. Well, not
that dangerous.” She giggled and pursed her lip. “So when's best
for you?”

“Well, how about
all day Saturday. Mum and Dad fancy a long weekend away or even
Wednesday afternoon. I finish College at twelve, I could be here
for twelve thirty.”

“OK, I'll ring
'er,” Claire muttered and then swore when the dreaded “out of
credit” message appeared.

“Just use mine,”
he offered and Claire dialled Paige's number into Jack's brand new
smartphone. She had a brief conversation with her talented friend
before turning to her host. “She says could we have a look on
Wednesday and record on Saturday?” Claire asked, and Jack nodded.
“She sounds excited. But then, she always sounds excited.”

“Yeah, sure,” he
agreed cheerfully. “Why not? I'll get some Pimms in for Saturday!”
Claire groaned and warned Paige before passing the phone back to
Jack. “Christ, I really gotta go,” she announced in a stressed
voice when she glanced at the clock. “I'll be late home
otherwise.”

“I could give you
a lift if you want?” She looked at him, and he held out her keys
containing a thick, chunky, car key.

“Let me guess, an
eighteenth birthday present?”

“It's only a small
car,” he said defensively. “Nothing too flash, just a BMW 1
Series.” Claire blew air through her teeth, but Jack insisted and
after locking the studio, unlocked a three-month old black
hatchback in front of the garage. “Your family is crazy,” she
muttered, but Jack just snorted.

“Nah, it's only a
1 Series. There's a guy at college who has a Ferrari as an
eighteenth. Now that's crazy. What car do you have?”

“I don't,” Claire
told him. “I can't afford one.”

“Oh,” Jack
muttered as his car turned into the private road. “It beats public
transport. My car was in the garage a couple of weeks ago, and it
was a nightmare.”

* *
* * *

“This was a
birthday present?” Paige asked incredulously as she wandered up and
down the recording studio. “A birthday present, you get a flat to
play in? This isn't much smaller than my home.” Jack smiled
nervously as Paige spied the equipment and grunted. “And this is
better stocked than a branch of Curry's. Wow! Just … wow! And you'd
let us use this all day Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Jack
shrugged.

Paige scowled at
him. “How much?”

“How much would
you pay?” He asked and chortled when he saw the expression on
Paige's face. “Nothing.”

“There's got to be
a catch. You guys don't expect something for nothing. There's no
such thing as a free lunch. What ya after? Is it Claire?”

“No,” Jack said
immediately and glanced at the cleaner's daughter. “If you insist,
a kiss at the end would be much appreciated. From you, not Claire.”
Paige's scowl deepened, but he clarified his lecherous comment with
“on the cheek of course.”

Paige hummed. “OK.
Next question. How the be-jesus does all this stuff work?”

Claire laughed,
and the two girls looked at Jack. “I guess, I should show you. I
promised Claire I would.”

“Yeah. Or you
could just do it?” Paige teased. “I reckon you need a degree in
rocket science to get this stuff working properly.”

“You said you
would,” Claire reminded him with a smirk. “It looks so
complicated.”

“It's not that
difficult, it's just … OK, try this.” Jack walked to the cupboard
and took out a microphone stand and placed it in the centre of the
room, before retrieving two exceptionally long cables and a
microphone. Paige watched as he connected everything together and
passed her a set of headphones and then gestured towards the
equipment.

“What?”

“Sing.”

“I don't need
this,” Paige told him indignantly, holding up the chunky
headphones. “I can hear my own voice.”

“Just try it,” he
replied and she looked vacantly at him. “I know what I am
doing.”

“Sing what?”

“Sing anything.”
Jack retrieved two fold-up chairs and sat down in front of the
equipment. He opened a drawer and pulled out two further headphones
passing one to Claire. “We can move you into the other room and let
you sing alone, but in the band we always liked to give instant
feedback.”

Paige squeezed her
shaking hands and held onto the microphone, but Jack gestured for
her to move away slightly from the black box and tilt her head. The
singer launched herself into a rendition of Joan Jett's Bad
Reputation, and Jack plugged two headphones into the output ports
on the hardware, so Paige's companions could listen to their friend
sing.