Page 54 of The Notecard
‘You don’t have to answer, but I’m just curious. You were huge in the Eighties, had a number one single, and then you just stopped. You could have been another George Michael or, I don’t know, the next Elton John.’
Michael laughs.
‘I don’t think I could have been the next Elton John, Nick.’
‘George Michael then?’
‘Fine, perhaps, maybe a less handsome version of George Michael. Maybe.’
‘So why stop? Why end up living here on your own?’
Michael looks at me. He doesn’t seem keen to share his story, but he’s going to anyway. I don’t mean to pry, but I’m interested. It seems like he had the world at his feet, and then he walked away. There has to be a reason. He leaves a pause and then he looks across at me.
‘Her name was Cecilia. Like the Simon and Garfunkel song. We met at school and became girlfriend and boyfriend almost straight away. We dated for years, all the way through the beginning of my music career. She held us together when I wasn’t going anywhere. Then we had our huge hit, A Call To You. We were both twenty-five. Overnight everything changed, Nick. Cecilia and I were suddenly living the dream. From having hardly any money, we had more than we knew what to do with.’
‘Do you want tea or coffee?’ shouts Mum from the kitchen.
‘No thanks,’ Michael and I shout together.
I look at Michael to continue and he does in his soft Somerset voice.
‘They were crazy times. I went from working at a petrol station to going on Top of the Pops. That was when Top of the Pops meant something. Cecilia and I had always planned on getting married once we had the money. It was summer and the record label rented us a house in the country. The idea was for us to make an album. Cecilia came along. I’m not proud to say it, Nick, but we were taking drugs, and drinking too much. It felt like nothing could go wrong at that point. It was the Eighties and we were living the dream. I met Elton John during that period. Lovely bloke.’
‘Are you sure about the tea and coffee?’ shouts Mum.
‘Go on, then. I’ll have a coffee,’ shouts Michael.
‘Okay, me too,’ I shout.
‘She won’t give up until you have one,’ says Michael with a smile.
‘I know. She’s the same with cake.’
‘And biscuits. She’ll be asking about biscuits in a minute. Mark my words,’ says Michael, and we both laugh. ‘So we’re at this enormous house in the country working on the album. It’s summer. Life just felt incredible. We were talking about getting married. I was going to propose after we’d made the album. Then one weekend, the rest of the band were away. They had families, and wives, and we all needed a break from recording. It was just Cecelia and me at the house. We had alcohol, drugs, and food. We locked ourselves away. We thought we were the next John and Yoko. We’d been swimming in the pool in the afternoon, and then I’d made us some food. It was late, but still warm. Cecelia wanted to go for another swim. I didn’t. I crashed out. We’d been drinking all day. The next day I woke up,’ says Michael, and then he stops. It’s hard for him. Even now, all of these years later, the pain is still etched around his eyes. It’s in his voice. ‘I woke up, and she wasn’t there. I thought maybe she was making breakfast or something. I walked downstairs and she wasn’t in the house. Eventually I walked outside and there she was.’ He stops for a moment. ‘In the pool. She was dead.’
‘Oh my god. I’m sorry.’
‘They don’t know what happened. She’d drowned. In that moment, my life changed forever. I couldn’t go on. Cecelia was everything to me. My whole world and I’d let her down. Why didn’t I check on her that night? Why didn’t I go to the pool with her? I walked away from it all. The band. Life. I hid away. My agent did his best to keep it all out of the press. It was easier then than it is now. It never really got out, and I wasn’t that big of a name. I bought the house in Ibiza and spent a long time there. I came back to London, eventually. I moved around a lot and then ended up here, but I never made music again.’
‘But you could afford to live on your own, surely?’
‘I could. I did for a while, but there’s just something about living at the top of a house full of people. I don’t feel so alone.’
I don’t know what to say. It’s such a sad story.
‘Michael, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay, Nick. It’s taken me a long time to be okay, but I am. It’s funny, I haven’t dated much over the years. There have been a few women here and there. Nothing serious. But when I saw your mum, something just clicked in me, you know?’
I nod and smile at Michael because I do. I know how he feels because it’s how I’ve felt about Meg since I met her. I just don’t have the same courage as Michael. I think my moment with Meg has gone. It was here in the flat. The day she had the notecard. That was it. Maybe it’s just timing. Maybe everything is just timing. If Michael’s band hadn’t had quite the same success, if the record label had rented a different house, on a different weekend, maybe Cecilia wouldn’t have died, and they would have got married, and Michael would have led a different life.
‘I wasn’t sure what you had,’ says Mum, walking into the room. ‘So I had a quick look through the cupboards, and I found some biscuits. Biscuit anyone?’
‘Sure,’ Michael and I say together as Rob finally comes out of the bathroom.
‘That’s better,’ says Rob. ‘Sorry everyone.’
‘How are you doing?’ I say.
