Page 19 of Wish You Once More
Scott slung an arm around Rosie’s shoulders. “Don’t go getting any ideas,” he said, kissing the side of her neck. “We’ll be going out on tour again soon, and I wouldn’t want to leave you holding the baby.”
“As if. There’s plenty of time for all that.” Rosie grinned. “Now can we go and eat?”
Ellie moved closer to me and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “See you later?” Her eyes sparkled with expectancy.
“Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure he comes to yours.” Jonny grinned. “You seem like a nice girl and it’s time for him to move on.”
“Move on?” Ellie’s brows knotted together, as she looked between the two of us.
“And now it’s time for us to get more beer,” I interjected. Jonny’s insinuation was obvious, to me at least, but I didn’t need him to elaborate. “I’ll text you.” Affectionately, I kissed her forehead, similar to how Melinda would Henry’s.
“Sure.” She forced a smile, although it wasn’t convincing.
Right now, I wanted to shout at Jonny for putting me in a difficult situation, knowing only too well it was my own doing. Something I’d royally screwed up, and almost had the chance to put right earlier that afternoon until Ellie’s surprise visit.
Scott, Rosie and Ellie finally left to get food, leaving me with Jonny. We went to one of the burger vans, and out of the corner of my eye, I thought I spotted a flash of orange t-shirt and icy blonde hair that could only belong to one person. Once we’d got burgers with the works and fresh beers, we went to sit at one of the picnic benches which had been set up. The band onstage provided a decent sound as we began to talk.
“Mat, I’m getting worried about Dad again,” said Jonny, before cramming a huge mouthful of a burger with all the works into his mouth.
Our Dad hadn’t always had the best of health. He went through phases of struggling with his weight, cholesterol and all the other things middle aged men who ate a lot of fatty food and drank a lot of beer battled. He’d had a couple of heart scares, the last one around eighteen months ago. It troubled me to hear something was wrong now.
“What’s wrong?” I pulled a piece of bacon out of my bun and chewed on it.
“He’s been complaining of chest pain and shortness of breath. Plus, he’s been coughing.”
“He’s still not smoking though, right?” The things Jonny described were exactly the same as the ones Dad had experienced with his last scare.
Jonny pulled a face. “Caught him with a cigar last week. Said it was a celebration for booking out all the properties for this weekend.”
I shook my head, pleased to hear the business was going well, but cross with him for using it as an excuse for a cigar. “Do we need to talk to him about getting more help again?”
Running a holiday homes business pretty much took up twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If it wasn’t dealing with the simple things like arrivals, there were issues with TV signals, leaking showers, broken down fridges, pretty much anything you could think of which could go wrong in a house. Because Dad was a control freak, he rarely let anyone else sort things out, except Jonny.
“I think while you’re here, bro, we should.” Jonny swigged his beer. “There are a few people around who would be suitable, and I can step up more.”
“Maybe I should take a break from the band and come down for a while.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I’d given them any serious consideration.
“Absolutely not! Dad wouldn’t allow it. He’s stoked to have a famous rock star for a son.”
“Two famous rock stars.” I grinned, toasting Jonny with my half empty plastic cup.
“Talking of which, we really need to rehearse tomorrow morning. I’ve got the back room at the Guildhall booked for eleven.”
“Remind me of the setlist?” I pretended he hadn’t sent it to me already.
“Hang on.” Jonny rummaged in his pocket for his phone, pulled up a note and pushed the device across the table.
I squinted in the half-light, able to make out a list of songs. Full of covers, there were songs from Arctic Monkeys, Blur, Oasis, even Biffy Clyro - although you’d be forgiven for calling it the nice Matt Cardle number. It wouldn’t take much to remember the bass lines, they were things Declan and me would play in warm-ups and jam sessions.
“I thought you might have moved on from these,” I commented, shoving Jonny’s phone back to him.
He spread his hands wide. “If your audience like what you do, why change it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. He was right. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
But if it’s so badly broken you don’t know if it can be fixed, should you even try?
I wished I knew where Bree was though, because maybe it was time to try.
