Page 11 of The Reboot
‘But it’s your home – you love that place, and you’ve done so much work to it. I’m not selling your house, Mum.’ It had been the proudest day of his life when he’d bought her that house. She’d worked so hard to give him a good life growing up – to get their own place and send him to a good school. It hadn’t been easy for her as a young single mother, and he knew she’d made a lot of sacrifices. But she’d always been cheerful and content, and never made him feel like a burden or as if she hankered after any other kind of life than the one they had. He’d been so happy to be able to do something for her in return when he started making real money with Oh Boy!
He remembered the day she’d got the keys and the three of them had gone up there with a bottle of champagne. His mum had been teary and emotional as she went from room to room, saying over and over that she couldn’t believe it was hers, and that Roly had done this for her. She kept thanking him, and telling him how proud she was of him. His nan had said ‘He’s a credit to you,’ which was a lot from her and made his mum cry all over again. He’d been barely twenty, a multimillionaire. It had felt like all her hard work and sacrifices had paid off at last, and all she’d invested in him – of time, of money, of faith – was finally being rewarded.
It would kill him if she had to sell that house. It was the one good thing he’d done with his money and he wasn’t going to let that be wiped out by his stupidity along with everything else.
‘Well,Ican’t offer to downsize,’ his nan said, looking around the tiny kitchen. She’d refused his offer to buy her somewhere fancier. She’d lived in this house all her married life, and she’d grown up in the neighbourhood. She had no interest in moving, but she had let Roly buy her a new kitchen and pay for some renovations.
‘But no one has to worry about being on the street,’ she continued. ‘There’ll always be room for you here, you know that – both of you.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Loretta smiled. His nan could be a tough old boot, but she had a heart of pure marshmallow, especially when it came to family. She’d never ‘see anyone stuck’ as she’d put it.
‘We did it before, and we can do it again.’
‘Roly’s grown a bit since then,’ Loretta said drily.
Christine shrugged. ‘It’d be a squeeze, but we’ll work it out.’
‘Anyway, I’m sure it won’t come to that,’ Roly said. ‘I still have enough in the bank to live on for a while.’ He tried to sound like he wasn’t worried, but it scared him how quickly it dwindled when there was nothing coming in – and no Bank of Marty now to top it up when stocks got low. He’d got used to having a cushion – a very big cushion – and it was frightening knowing it wasn’t there anymore.
‘You could always get a lodger,’ his mum said. ‘You have the spare bedroom.’
‘Maybe.’ He drummed his fingers on the table, considering the idea. It could be the ideal solution, as long as he didn’t end up sharing the place with some weirdo. It would give him some income while he got back on his feet. He had no mortgage to pay, so he didn’t need much. He’d have to look up what rents were like when he got home.
‘Well, I’m sure something will turn up.’ His mum squeezed his hand.
That was her all over – just hope for the best and somehow things will miraculously ‘work out’ or ‘turn up’.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said more forcefully, putting her hand on his arm and looking him square in the eye. ‘We’ll manage, okay?’
He nodded, feeling soothed. ‘Okay.’ His lovely mum – she was all pillowy softness on the surface with her pale-blonde hair, big blue eyes and soft breathy voice. It was easy to underestimate her. But underneath her fluffy exterior there was a core of pure steel that was all the more effective for being unexpected. There was no one better to fight your corner, and she’d always been able to fix things for him. Whether he was worried about his homework or having trouble with some guy at school, he could rely on her to sort it out and make everything all right again.
‘Okay?’ she said again.
‘Yeah, I’ll be fine.’
When he got back to his house, he pulled out his laptop and ate half the packet of biscuits he’d forgotten to give to his nan while he looked up property sites. He began to feel more optimistic when he saw what rents you could charge for a bedroom in a house share. For the first time since Marty died, he felt like he could breathe. He was even a little bit excited at the prospect of having a steady income. Even the thought of having a roommate was kind of appealing. He’d have to vet them, of course, but he could get someone really cool, someone who’d be a friend rather than just a lodger, someone he could hang out with. He treated himself to a bowl of ice-cream in front of the TV to celebrate. It felt like the start of a new chapter. He could really turn things around.
That night he slept soundly, and the next morning he got up and stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the flabbiness of his belly, the pallor of his skin, the dark bags under his eyes. Then he went downstairs and went through the kitchen, throwing out frozen pizzas, a bin-load of sliced white bread, family size bars of chocolate and what was left of the biscuits he’d bought yesterday. He didn’t even feel guilty about it. Because yes, there were people starving in the world; but he wasn’t one of them.
4
‘Nice gaff.’Roly looked around as Charlie led him down a timber-floored hallway into the vast living space of his penthouse apartment. So this was what you could afford when you went the distance in Oh Boy! – when you didn’t fuck it up and throw it all away.
‘It’s mad, isn’t it?’ Charlie chuckled. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never been here before.’
Roly could believe it. He’d been surprised when Charlie had called him out of the blue and invited him over. He hadn’t seen any of the band in ages – even Charlie, the one he’d been closest to. After they’d spoken, he’d done some quick calculations, and he reckoned it had been almost a year since they’d been in touch, and then it had only been on WhatsApp.
The last time they’d seen each other in person, Charlie was living in London and about to embark on his first solo tour. Roly had gone over for the opening night at the Roundhouse in Camden. He really hadn’t wanted to go. It was too humiliating to be back in that world as an outsider, like some hanger-on with his nose pressed against the window, with all those industry pricks looking down on him and feeling sorry for him.
But Charlie had been so nervous about playing his first solo gig and had begged Roly for his support, anxious to have some friendly faces in the crowd. So out of loyalty to his friend, he’d swallowed his pride and made the effort to show up. At least he knew Liam, Zack and Alex couldn’t make it, so he wouldn’t have to face any of them. They were all too busy with their own careers, which while it was a relief, made him feel like even more of a loser for being available. He was the only one with nothing better to do.
The gig went well, and Charlie had invited him to hang out backstage afterwards. They’d barely spoken, though. After a quick hello and a selfie for his Instagram, Charlie was too busy schmoozing more important people than Roly to do more than wave to him from across the room occasionally. Roly got it – it was Charlie’s night and everyone wanted a piece of him. It was like being the bride at a wedding – everyone was just there for you, but you couldn’t possibly give that level of attention back to each one of them. But no matter how much he rationalised it, it still pissed him off that he’d been left feeling like a chump for doing his mate a favour.
Charlie had texted since and there’d been lots of talk of getting together when he was next in Dublin and having a proper catch-up, just the two of them. But it never happened. Charlie had been back in Dublin several times, visiting family and friends, but he never seemed able to make time for Roly – not until he had another album to launch or gig to promote. To add insult to injury, Roly had seen him on Twitter trying to persuade Liam or Alex to come to Dublin to meet him the last time he was home. After that, Roly had ignored Charlie’s pleas to attend his gigs or post about his latest album on social media, making vague promises to ‘try to make it’ that were as phony and meaningless as Charlie’s ‘catch up next time’.
They’d drifted further and further apart, until now Roly only saw Charlie the same way he did the other guys from the band, when he was hate-scrolling through their Instagram or Twitter feeds. It sucked that even mild-mannered, easy-going Charlie, the peace-keeper of the group and the most sweet-natured of them all, had turned out to be a user. Roly resented him for making him feel so spiteful and bitter. He didn’t like being that person, and he hated that he cared. But he’d thought Charlie was a mate, and the rejection hurt. It just did.
Charlie waved him to a large sectional sofa, but Roly was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sliding doors led to a terrace overlooking the curved glass structure of the Aviva Stadium, its blue light glowing into the night. It was strange to think they’d lit that place up once – him, Charlie and the rest of them – filling it with so much energy and love. He struggled to feel it, but he was so detached from that life now, it was like it had all happened to someone else.
