Page 61 of Marley
“Na, mate. I’m sorry, but she’d just had a bit of a breakdown after seeing you for the first time in almost four years. I wasn’t about to bring up your name if she didn’t.” I told him honestly.
He put his hat back on. “Fair enough. I get it, dude, I really do.” Despite his words, I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I couldn’t miss the way his throat moved as he swallowed his emotions down.
“Baby steps, mate. Talking to me is a massive leap for her, and once she’s back on her feet and feeling a little more stable, I promise—I swear to you that I will do all that I can to put everything right between the two of you.”
He nodded his head slowly. “I’ll give her a bit of time, but we need to get our shit sorted before the wedding.”
Len and Jimmie’s wedding was happening in June. When they’d first got engaged, a wedding in two years seemed forever away, but we were down to weeks. Bailey was best man. Myself, Maca, and the rest of the boys from the band were groomsmen, whatever that meant. My knowledge regarding wedding etiquette was as lacking then as it is now. All I knew was that Georgia and Maca would both be a part of the wedding and so, like he had just said, they really needed to get their shit together before the big day.
“It’ll get sorted, Mac. She’s doing better and she’s already told Jim that she doesn’t want anything to spoil the day for her and Len, but this is George. Let her go at her own pace. You know what she’s like if you push her.”
The rest of our stay in Ireland went well, and Maca was definitely in a better place when we got home than when we left.
We had a quiet few months scheduled as Len had wanted time off both before and after the wedding.
Maca and I spent a few weeks writing before taking a week in Ibiza, and then we sailed with a couple of producer friends of ours on their boat around the Balearic Islands, off the coast of Spain.
We landed back in England on a rainy May Thursday, just around lunchtime. We had promised to call around to Len and Jimmie’s place that night and so just stopped quickly at our place to shower and change our clothes. We were both tired after three weeks of partying and sailing in the sun, and our day of travelling. We almost called and cancelled, but the promise of a home cooked meal from Jimmie meant that wasn’t an option, so we made the effort, both of us unaware that the decision to drag our tired arses over to my brothers that evening would ultimately change both of our lives forever.
Dinner was great. Jimmie was an excellent cook and after the roast beef with all the trimmings, we had homemade apple crumble and custard for dessert.
I’d gotten over my issues with Jim and Len being together years ago. I viewed her as nothing more than a sister and I couldn’t have been happier for her and my brother. They were so good together, that the way they looked at each other, even had me wondering if maybe, one day, I might want what they had.
We sat around the dinner table, enjoying a few wines and then more than a few bourbons as we told stories of our recent trip away.
This holiday had been a little subdued compared to our usual trips. We’d partied and clubbed the first week, but Maca hadn’t done more than chat to a few girls and had no interest when a girl called Elanora from Italy or France, or wherever, had asked if she could come back to our hotel and fuck us both. Luckily, we had separate rooms and I’d gone back with her, along with a Swedish, Dutch, or wherever it is they make tall blonde girls that talk like the chef off the Muppets and are called Anna, Arrna or Hannah. They stayed for two days. By the third, I could barely walk and needed them to go.
The following couple of weeks, we’d spent fishing, snorkelling, and sunbathing while sailing on Max and Nicole’s boat. They had just had their third baby so there was no partying on board. Most of the places we docked at night were quiet little fishing villages. Nic was happy to cook most evenings, as it was hard work taking three kids, including a newborn out to dinner. A few times she sent Max out with us, telling us to go get drunk, which being the good boys that we were, we obviously obeyed. One night, we ended up staging an impromptu concert at a little bar in Palma on the island of Majorca. It was a place where the locals drank, but we had been instantly recognised and the singer from the band that was playing, invited us up on stage to sing a few songs. We didn’t get down for over two hours and it was the happiest I had seen Maca in what felt like forever.
We helped Jimmie load the dishwasher and clear up the kitchen before taking our drinks and sitting on the big comfy sofa’s they’d just purchased. I was only half listening to Len go on about how they were custom made when the ring of the front doorbell came. Keen to get away from the riveting sofa conversation, Maca jumped up with an, “I’ll get it,” before I could get a breath out. He winked at me as he headed for the door, probably the first person ever to hope that he was gonna find a large religious cult on the doorstep, looking to spend hours trying to convert him.
“So yeah, if you’re ever looking, I can put you onto this bloke in San Antonio, Texas.” Len was telling me. I nodded and smiled, feigning interest before knocking back my drink. Imported cowhide? Shoot me now, cowboy.
I added ice from the bucket on the coffee table and started to top up both mine and Len’s drinks when I thought I heard a woman cry.
“What was that?” Len asked me.
“Dunno, sounded like someone crying.”
We were quiet for a minute, both of us trying to listen over the top of The Jam’s‘Butterfly Collector.’He looked around for the remote to the state of the art—for 1989—sound system that he’d had installed.
“Is that crying?” That was what I’d just said.
“I don’t know Len, go and have a look.” I suggested. He could do anything, as long as it wasn’t talking to me about furniture.
“Where’s Jim anyway?” I asked him, hoping that he would at least want to go in search of his wife to be.
Curiosity eventually got the better of him and he stood, walking out into the hallway.
“Fuck... Jimmie!”I hear him call out a few seconds later. I stand up and retrieve the remote from the dining table where we had left it earlier. Transvision Vamp’s Wendy James starts belting out‘Baby I Don’t Care’and my dick gives a little twitch of approval as I remember the video I’d seen of her singing it, wearing a basque, long gloves, and not a lot else.
“Shit.”
That was my sister’s voice I heard as I stepped out into the hallway. Len was standing just ahead of me. I looked around him to see Maca sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around my sister who was sitting in his lap and looking up at him. Jimmie was on her knees beside them.
“Who would want to hurt us like that? Who?”
George looked up at Maca and asked through her tears.
