Chapter Text
It was a Thursday afternoon and Led Zeppelin IV was spinning loudly on the turntable next to the cash register when Remus’ life would change forever. It was a slow day in the record store Remus worked in five days of the week. Frank, Remus’ boss and owner of the store, was having a conversation with a customer about the recent Football. Remus was cataloging a stack of records that lay next to him. He had begun cataloging all the records in Frank’s shop six months ago but there were so many records, he would take six more years to finish it all.
“Right then, Frankie, I’m off,” said the customer. “Bye, Remus.”
“Bye,” mumbled Remus. He had no idea of the man’s name.
“When you’re done with that stack can you put the price tags on this stack over there? They’re all new in the shop, picked them up from a seller last week.”
Remus nodded, “sure. How much are we selling them for?”
“Five quid each,” said Frank.
Remus chuckled, “right. I’ll get it done.”
When Frank was in the store with Remus, most of his days looked like this. Listening to Frank’s favourite albums, cataloging the inventory, sorting new records into the collection and taking a few too many smoke breaks. When Remus was alone in the store, every Friday, he played his own favourite albums and spent most of the day listening to them and serving customers occasionally.
“Any plans for the weekend, Remus?” Frank asked after one of his own smoke breaks.
“No,” said Remus. “I’ll be here, won’t I?”
“Yes, but only until six.”
Remus shrugged, “no plans. You?”
“Not yet, but something will surely come up. What should I put on next?”
“Whatever you want,” said Remus with a grin. “I’ll play all the good music tomorrow when you’re not here.”
“Careful what you say about my music,” said Frank, grinning too and putting a vinyl on the slipmat.
“You need me for your day off,” said Remus. “Which one did you pick?” Willy And The Poor Boys.
The store didn’t have a bell that chimes when someone walked in, technically it had, but the door was always open when the weather was as good as today. If it had, it would’ve chimed when a person Remus’ age walked in wearing a leather jacket, which was not unusual in a record store, and sunglasses, which was unnecessary because the inside of the store wasn’t really bright at all. The person caught Remus’ attention immediately. He was alone in the room, Frank was doing something outside. The sharpie he was using for the price tag slowly drying out while he watched the person look through a few of the records. He knew he should probably ask if they needed any help, if they were looking for something specific, but he hated doing that on a normal day and especially if the customer had him entranced like this. It seemed like the person didn’t need any help though, after flicking through a few of the records, they walked over to the little notice board in the corner. A local private yoga class, a stray cat, someone selling baby clothes, a teenager looking for babysitting jobs, Frank was very well-known in the neighbourhood and everyone, record lover or not, came into his store to put things up on the notice board. The stranger took a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of the leather jacket and pinned it onto the board.
“Can I help at all?” Frank walked back into the store and Remus resumed writing little 5s on the white stickers.
“Yeah, no, how long are you leaving these up for?”
Remus looked up again at the stranger’s voice. High-class and posh. A little bored but still friendly.
“Three months but I’d ask you to come and take it down if your issue is resolved,” said Frank. He always had a kind voice, no matter who he was speaking to.
“Alright. Cheers.” The stranger buried their hands in the pockets of the jacket and slipped out of the doorway.
Frank stood in front of the notice board and read what was written on the slip of paper the stranger had put up.
“Band looking for a bassist and a rehearsal room,” he read out. “Didn’t you want to play in a band once?”
Remus shrugged, “Yeah, but a band with a rehearsal room.”
“Goddamn, what did you have for breakfast today?”
“Uh, two slices of bread, two eggs and a coffee.” Frank slapped him with a record Remus had just written the price on and they both laughed.
“I thought your breakfast was cigarettes and coffee?”
“Most days, Frankie. But Dad made breakfast this morning.”
Frank was an old friend of Remus’ father. Both music lovers but how they had met, Remus had no idea. His father had gotten him the job with Frank a year ago when he had gotten tired of Remus emptying his fridge when he spent all day at home in the time between semesters.
Remus and Frank closed the store at six o’clock sharp, Frank’s watchful eyes watching as Remus locked the door.
“See you on Saturday then,” he said. “Say hello to your father from me.”
“I will. Have a good day tomorrow.”
“I will.”
Most of the night, Remus spent thinking about the stranger and the note. He had wanted to be in a band again for a while. His last band had fallen apart after they all went to different universities and at the time, Remus had been glad for it. He had grown tired of the other members of the band who never took it as seriously as he had. For them, smoking weed in the rehearsal room was more important than playing good gigs. And now, Remus guitars stood in the corner of his attic bedroom collecting dust. He had flicked through the pages of his father’s magazines countless times imagining what it’d be like to see his own face in there one day. He wasn’t made to be a frontman, he was too shy, but he wanted to contribute. He wanted to be part of it, in the background, give what he could give. He wanted to play in a band. But he had only played the bass a couple of times in the school’s big band when they had been a bassist short. And the stranger in the store today was much too cool for Remus anyway.
The next morning, when he had just opened the shop and put a record on, The Smiths, something quiet for the morning, he read the note for the first time.
London-based band looking for a bass player and a rehearsal room.
Must be 21 or older. Must play the bass. Max £400 rent per month.
Interested? Call here:
Remus scoffed and took a sip of his coffee. It was rather ridiculous, they could’ve at least made their advertisement a little more appealing.
“Morning Remus!”
Remus turned around and saw one of the store’s regulars, Joseph, who came around every morning before going to work in the local primary school and brought Remus breakfast every Friday.
“Morning Joey, what d’you got for me today?” Remus peeled away from the note and walked over to the cash register. His spot for the next eight hours. Frank usually gave him a list of to dos for the Fridays but Remus barely ever finished them.
“Two bagels. One with cream cheese, salmon and cucumber and one with peanut butter, chocolate and bananas,” said Joseph, placing the little plastic container on the counter.
“Did you make those?”
“Yes, the girls got bagels too. Yours are just more fancy ‘cause you don’t get a school lunch today.”
“Nice to know you see me as your third child,” said Remus, biting into the salmon bagel. “Cheers.”
“I’ll take a look ‘round the basement today, yeah?”
“Sure, go. There’s a couple new one’s under soundtracks.”
The note on the board clung to the corner of Remus’ eye the entire day. He found himself looking over at the piece of paper over and over again. Technically, he could play the bass. He just hadn’t done it in a while. In theory, he knew someone who knew people with rehearsing rooms. But in reality, he didn’t know anyone with a room and he hadn’t touched his bass guitar in nearly two years and the only song he could play well was Hotel California.
The idea burned in his mind like an everlasting light while he listened to his favourite albums all day, listened to a few albums some regulars brought in to show him, while he helped a few customers that seemed a little lost and sold them the vinyls they searched for. The day had been just like all the others at Frankie’s Music Corner except that Remus was caring less for the music that he played than the note on the board.
He closed the store at six o’clock again, counted the money he made and had to recount a couple of times and then ended his work day like he had begun it. Staring at the note on the board. The opportunity to play in a band again was as close as it hadn’t been in years, he shouldn’t let it slip from his hands. London was huge and full of people, if they had only put up their note in a third of London’s music stores, they probably already had a bass player. Remus sighed, turned off the record player and suddenly, the room was very, very quiet. Too quiet. He copied the number from the note, picked up his jacket and closed the store the way Frank had taught him.
He sat on a little wall nearby and dialled the number from the note. What could go wrong? The worst that could happen was that the stranger told Remus no, then he‘d be embarrassed for a few days and continue with his life. Take down the note and throw it in the bin tomorrow morning. Never see the stranger again.
“Hello?” It wasn’t the voice of the stranger. Raspy and sweet, like raspberry jam.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello? Who is this?”
“Uhm, my name’s Remus. I’m calling because of the note you put up in Frankie’s Music Corner yesterday.” Remus spoke clumsily.
“I haven’t put up any note in any corner yesterday,” said the voice.
“Oh, sorry–” Remus put a cigarette between his lips. “I must’ve dialled the wrong number then.”
The voice laughed. “Oh Remus. I haven’t put up a note but one of us has, I think. We put notes up in half of London. Why are you calling? Can you play the bass?”
“Uh, yes. A bit.”
“How much is a bit?”
“A couple songs.”
“Do you have a rehearsal room, Remus?”
Remus lit the cigarette and inhaled the smoke welcomingly.
“No, not me personally. But a friend of a friend might’ve.”
The voice on the other end was quiet. For a moment, Remus thought the voice had hung up but then it returned.
“We should talk, Remus.”
“Aren’t we talking right now?”
“In person, I mean,” said the voice. “When can we meet?”
“I don’t work on Mondays.”
“Good. Monday, then. Time?”
“Eleven?”
“In the morning.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t a question. You saw our note in Frankie’s Music Corner, that’s in Clapham. D’you know the coffee stand by Mount Pond in Clapham Common?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Eleven a.m. sharp in Monday. See you, Remus.”
“Wait.” Remus stood up. Then, realising what he had done, he sat down again. “I don’t even know your name. How am I going to recognize you?”
“I have red hair and my name is Lily, you’ll be fine, Remus,” said the voice cheerfully. “See you on Monday!”
Lily hung up before Remus got the chance to say any more but he stayed put, with his phone in his hand and his cigarette burning to ash in the other. The phone call with Lily was one of the top three weirdest things he’d ever experienced.
The sun stood low when Remus turned into his street. He could’ve taken the train, but it was busy around this time with commuters from Central London and the forty minute walk was welcomed after the strange phone call. He imagined what Lily could possibly look like, red hair, raspberry jam voice and a band member. She must be his age, 21, if that was their minimum age to join the band. What instrument did she play? Did she sing? Was she the manager? How serious was this band?
His father wasn’t home. Lyall was probably still at the office.
He ate dinner in the kitchen and left his plate in the sink, too lazy to put it in the dishwasher and then went to his room. It was right under the roof on the top floor and had once been an attic but when Hope inherited the house from her great-aunt, they had turned the room into a bedroom for Remus. The house had always been too big. Remus had the entire upper floor for himself, and thank the Lord. He was an only child, a dream come true.
Although he wouldn’t call himself a very nostalgic person, Remus could never get rid of anything. His entire secondary school career was neatly put away into seven binders in his closet, eight, if you counted the one for extracurriculars. It was this particular neon green binder he now took out, what exactly had ridden him ten years ago to choose neon green, he did not remember today. The binder wasn’t as filled as the others. Remus hadn’t joined any school activities until Year 10 and now he flipped through the pages looking for something very specific.
The first song he had ever played on the bass was She Loves You by The Beatles. When the school’s band had performed it, it was horrendous and even now, years later on the carpet of his bedroom and his dusty bass guitar in his lap, playing the tabs brought back vile memories. He got through the song without any major problems, having rehearsed it countless times and it had engraved into his brain permanently. He didn’t play it more than once, instead, he opened the first page of When I come Around. That song brought much, much better memories. It was the first his old band member had taught him before he found weed more interesting than music. They had even once performed the song, at their first gig three years ago at a school festival and contrary to She Loves You, it had been a great success. He played it once, very slowly, to make sure he still knew how it felt like, then, he played it again. It felt good to feel the string vibrate underneath his fingers, the quiet buzz of the amplifier felt familiar and half way through the second round the bass didn’t even gee uncomfortable anymore. Unfortunately, that was also the time the amplifier buzzed louder than usual and then stopped making a sound altogether.
With a defeated groan, Remus lay on his back and lit the cigarette that had been dangling from his lips while he had played. He needed to up his repertoire if he wanted to impress Lily and the rest of her band. And if the cool stranger that hung the note up was part of it, the task of impressing them wasn’t an easy one.
“Remus!”
Remus put his instrument aside and rolled onto his stomach to put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill. His father didn’t like it when he smoked indoors and he was already halfway up the stairs. Lyall had perfected his habit of closing the front door so quietly that no one even noticed him coming home. He used to say he learnt it to not wake Remus up as a baby, but he hadn’t said that in a long time.
“Coming!” Remus called and stood up. He met Lyall on the stairs.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your plates in the sink?”
Remus pushed past his father while he spoke. The thing about Lyall was that he was too kind. He had told Remus to put his dishes into the dishwasher since Remus was five years old but he was too kind and Remus too lazy and so, at twenty-one, Remus still left his dishes outside of the dishwasher. Even now, he said it in an almost amused way like it was an old joke between them.
“You can wash your dishes by hand if you’re so keen,” said Lyall, following Remus into the kitchen.
“I’m good, thanks. How was work?”
“Alright, there’s something we need to talk about, though,” said Lyall, taking his own dinner out of the microwave and sitting down by the table. A sign for Remus to join.
“I need to go to the States in two weeks,” said Lyall. “For three weeks.” Remus watched as Lyall picked apart his dinner.
“Will you be alright?”
Remus nodded. “Sure. I’m not a baby anymore, Dad.”
“You know, usually I’d ask your grandma to come here but I figured, you’re old enough now. That means you have to do your own shopping, though. I can’t buy food three weeks in advance.”
“I know. It’s not like it’s the first time anyway,” said Remus.
When he was younger, his grandma had always taken care of him whenever Lyall was away. Remus had loved it because grandma meant going to bed later, being allowed to listen to the second side of the cassette he listened to to fall asleep, breakfast in bed on the weekends and being picked up from school earlier than usual. But since Remus had been nineteen, his grandma looked after him less and less when his father was away and Remus had always managed somehow. Still, three weeks seemed like a long time.
“What d’you have to go for?”
“There’s some meetings to attend, some people to meet and some articles to write,” said Lyall simply. “A week and a half in New York the other week and a half in Los Angeles.”
“On your own?”
“No, three other people from the office are coming too.”
Remus nodded again.
“My amplifier stopped working tonight. Can you look into it when you have time over the weekend?”
“Have you played again?”
Remus nodded. For a moment he thought about telling his father about the note and the band, then he decided to wait.
“I played the old stuff from school,” said Remus.
“I’ll take a look,” said Lyall. “Might just be the cable. How was your day?”
Sometimes Remus wondered why Lyall kept asking. Every day he asked the same question and Remus would reply with the same variations of “good”, “alright” or “shit” and then their conversation normally was over. If Remus’ day was good or alright there was no need to speak about it and if it was shit, usually Remus didn’t want to tell his father more. Lyall wasn’t much of a problem solver, he was too kind. So Remus solved most of his problems on his own or not at all. Most problems, he found, would go away on their own if you ignore them for long enough.
Weekends usually had the habit of being over in the blink of an eye, even if you work both days and the weekend lost all its value but this weekend dragged on forever. Remus worked in Frankie’s Music Corner and after Lyall repaired the amplifier (it had indeed just been the cable) he practiced When I Come Around every minute that Lyall would allow it which was quite a lot, the man barely slept. On Sunday night Remus went to bed being probably the only person on the globe that was excited for Monday morning to come around, but he was nervous too. He had imagined meeting Lily many times in his head and each time, her red hair had a different shade. He had to be prepared for everything, a fake or a natural redhead. Like a kid on Christmas Eve he fell asleep giddy and with a pounding heart.
“You’re up early for your day off,” said Lyall when Remus came into the kitchen just after nine on Monday morning.
“And you’re late to the office,” said Remus, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking it outside to the deck. He lit a cigarette.
“Not even had a single bite to eat yet,” said Lyall. “I’m leaving in ten minutes, I’m not late. I worked ahead last week.”
“I’ll eat when you’re gone so you can’t complain about my poor choice of breakfast,” said Remus with a grin.
“Eat a bit of fruit at least,” replied Lyall, his face almost pleading. “Everything in the bowl is fresh. Anyway, why are you up so early?”
“Got an appointment,” said Remus as he stubbed out the cigarette and put it in the trash.
“An appointment?”
“Yeah, I’m… meeting someone.” Remus began making his breakfast. Kids’ cereal, a different kind each week. There was something healing about it.
“A date?”
Remus blushed. “Lord, no. An appointment.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re doing drugs on your day off.”
“No, Dad. Stop being weird,” said Remus. He flicked the radio on and sat down at the table. “I’ll tell you about when there’s more to tell but please don’t worry. I’m not going on a date and I’m not doing drugs.”
Lyall left, Remus got ready. The sun was out but the weather was still too cold to leave the house without a jacket, thank god, that way, Remus had something to do with his hands as he approached the coffee stand. There were tables around it, only few of them taken by mothers with strollers and one was taken by a girl wearing a red dress and a brown denim jacket over it. Her red hair, probably naturally so, was flowing softly in the light breeze.
Her wary face lit up into a wide smile when she caught sight of Remus. There was no doubt he was here for her, he didn’t fit into the rest of the coffee drinkers around the stand.
“Are you Lily?” He asked when he had reached her table.
“If you’re Remus then I’m Lily,” she said. “You have to order and pay over there.”
“Cheers.”
Two minutes later, Remus returned with a large cup of coffee and sat down opposite Lily.
“I’m not late, am I?”
“No, I’m just always early,” said Lily kindly. “So, you’re Remus.”
“Yeah.” Remus took a sip of coffee.
“And you want to play in our band,” she said.
“Potentially, yes. You wrote you need a bassist.”
“And a rehearsal room and it’s rather urgent. Can you play the bass, Remus?“
“A bit.”
“How much is a bit?”
“Couple of songs,” said Remus, watching her face. “I played in a band before.”
“Can you learn more songs?”
Remus shrugged, “yeah.”
“And you said you might know someone who knows someone with a rehearsal room?”
“I know someone who works at a recording studio part-time,” said Remus. “Maybe I can ask him.”
Lily looked at him with her chin in the palm of her hand. “Interesting.” Remus took a sip of coffee.
“How desperate are you for the room?”
“Let’s say we’re more desperate for a bassist,” said Lily. “We have a place to rehearse but it’s not ideal. And we’ve got a gig by the end of April,” said Lily.
“You’ve got a gig but no bassist?” Remus couldn’t contain a grin.
“We had a bassist but he left,” said Lily. “And the gig we got through Peter’s sister.”
“Why did your old bassist leave?”
“Personal differences,” said Lily. She pronounced all syllables separately. Pers-onal Diff-eren-ces.
“Ah, right.”
“Yeah,” said Lily, she let one hand slip into the pocket of her jacket. “Sirius, the one who put the note you found up, has given me a bunch of questions I should ask you.” She unfolded a little slip of paper.
“Name, age, where d’you live?”
“Is this a job interview?”
“He’s very… he has a very clear picture of our new bassist,” said Lily then they both chuckled.
“Remus, twenty-one–”
“When’s your birthday?”
“10th of March.”
“Oh! Happy late birthday, then.” Lily beamed at him. “Where d’you live?”
“Thanks. I, uh, live in London. Wandsworth.”
“Oh, nice. With your parents?”
Remus gave a half-nod, “with my Dad.”
“Good relationship?”
Remus nodded again, “It’s alright.”
“Have you ever performed a gig before?”
“Yeah, I was in a band before but I left.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Personal differences?” Remus grinned, making Lily laugh out loud.
“No! Tell me the truth.”
“It is the truth! At one point drugs became more important than the music and those were the personal differences that made me leave.”
“Ah, yeah,” said Lily. “I can imagine. So you’d say you’re an experienced performer and musician?”
“Maybe? Look, I just really wanna play in a band again and realised that when I saw your note.”
Lily smiled, “good.”
“Good?”
“I think it could work with you,” said Lily. “But of course I can decide that on my own. There’s five of us so far and we all have an equal say. Oh. Speaking of which, would you be down to sing? Sirius sings all of the song but we all sing backing vocals, so you’d have to be down for that.”
Remus nodded, “No problem. I’ve sang on stage before.”
“Wonderful!” Lily almost shrieked. “You’ve got my vote.”
“What happens now?”
“I’ll take your case to the judges, the rest of the band, and then… I’ll call you.”
“When are you seeing them next?”
“Wednesday,” said Lily. “We meet up every Wednesday and Sunday. So I’ll call you Thursday and then, if the band votes yes, maybe I’ll take you with me on Sunday.”
“Fantastic.”
When Remus returned to work the next morning, he took the note off the notice board and put it in his back pocket. Then, he worked as normal. He spent eight hours at the store with Frank, then he went home and practiced When I Come Around until his fingers hurt. He got up early on Wednesday and practiced more, then he went to work again feeling giddy all day. Maybe Lily would call early.
“Lord, what’s up with you today?” Frank asked with a grin.
“What? Why?”
“I put on AC/DC and you don’t even complain?”
“Oh, yeah. Shit record, you should put on something else.”
Frank laughed, “so. What’s going through your mind?”
Then, Remus told him about his meeting with Lily and how obsessively he had practised and how last night, he had even dreamed about joining the mysterious band and playing a sold out gig with them.
“Sounds like you really want it,” said Frank. “I knew you’d call them.”
“Well, for now I only met one of them,” said Remus. “She said she’ll call me tomorrow.”
“They’d be right stupid if they don’t want you,” said Frank. “I’ve never seen you play, but I spend forty hours a week with you.”
Remus chuckled, “Yeah. That’s even worse than a band.”
“Exactly, and we’re not even playing music. Go on, pick the next record if you don’t want AC/DC anymore.”
Lily did not call early. In fact, she called when Remus sat on the bus home. Rain was slashing against the window when Remus picked up.
“Remus?”
“Lily?”
“Yes. I’ve got news.”
“I was hoping you’d call.”
“Yeah, sorry. I thought it’d be best to call around the time you called me last time, so– here I am.”
“What news d’you got?”
“So, I presented your case and we took a vote and we outvoted Sirius and we agreed you can come ‘round on Sunday,” said Lily cheerfully. Invisible to her but very visible to everyone on the bus, Remus bumped his fist against his leg. He’d done it. Thank God. He’d join a band.
“Remus? Are you still there?”
“Yes! God. Sorry! Er, that’s brilliant, Lily. Thank you.” He tried very hard to stay calm. “What time on Sunday?”
“Whatever time works. Usually we meet between half seven and seven,” said Lily.
“I work until five,” said Remus.
“Great! I can pick you up. Where d’you work?”
“Frankie’s Music Corner,” said Remus slowly. Then it occurred to him that he never even told Lily.
“Well, I could’ve figured that. I’ll pick you up at five then?”
“Yeah. And then we go where?”
“James’ house in Hampstead.”
“Alright. See you Sunday?”
“Yep! And bring you bass. Our old bassist took his.” There was a miniature pause. “You have a bass, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes. Don’t worry.” Remus took a breath. “Is there a song you want me to prepare?”
“Uh, no,” said Lily. “I think you’ll be fine just playing whatever you can.”
“Right. Thank you, Lily. That’s all very cool. I– I’m very excited.”
“Us too, Remus. I can’t wait to introduce you to the others!”
Lyall greeted Remus in the kitchen and watched as he made himself a cup of tea, ruffling his wet hair with the sleeve of his jumper.
“Dinner’s in the fridge. How was your day?”
“Good,” said Remus, looking through the plastic containers in the fridge. “This one?” He held a container with a blue lid up. Lyall nodded.
“It’s chili, I had it in the freezer. Rice is still in the pot if you want any.”
“Fresh?” Remus looked into the pot, the rice inside was still warm.
“Remus!”
Remus grinned and loaded his plate. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. Do you want tea?”
“Yes please.”
With two cups of tea and one plate of dinner, Remus sat down by the table. It was too big for two people, just like the house.
“Something really good happened today, Dad,” said Remus.
“And what’s that?” Lyall asked kindly.
“I might join a band again,” said Remus a little nervously.
“Oh.” Lyall sounded pleased and a tad amused. “How come?”
“There was a note in the record shop last week and I called them. I met one of them on Monday and I’m gonna meet the rest of them on Sunday.”
Lyall smiled proudly. “That sounds amazing, Remus. What will they need you for?”
“The bass,” said Remus. “That’s why I played again the other day.”
Lyall’s smile grew bigger. “I had a hunch. Well done. I’m sure it’ll be great on Sunday. You won’t eat dinner here, I suspect.”
“Actually, no idea. But don’t plan for me, I’ll get something myself.”
Remus had finished his dinner and emptied his tea. The expression on his father’s face was odd. It was sad and nostalgic and somehow Remus knew exactly what he’d say next.
“Don’t.” He stood up with his dishes and brought them over to the sink.
“What?”
“I know what you’re gonna say and I don’t want to hear it.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I still don’t want to hear it.”
He withstood his father’s gaze for a moment before turning around, leaving the dishes in the sink and heading upstairs, taking two steps at a time. He didn’t see Lyall again until he knocked on the door to Remus’ room when it was almost eleven, and Remus had traded the floor and the bass for his bed, a cigarette and a book. He stubbed the cigarette out before calling his father inside. As much as Lyall disliked Remus smoking indoors, he despised Remus smoking in his bed. But sometimes, Remus couldn’t help himself, his bed called for him too loudly sometimes.
“I wanted to say goodnight,” said Lyall gently.
“Goodnight.”
“I’m sorry I’ve upset you,” he said then. Sounding softer, like he always had sounded like when Remus had been sad as a little child.
“You haven’t,” said Remus. “Just don’t wanna talk about it.”
“All I wanted to say is she would be very proud of you,” said Lyall. “Okay? That’s all. You don’t have to speak about it.”
“Why would she be proud? I haven’t even done anything.”
Lyall entered Remus’ room and sat down by the end of his bed. Something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
“She always was proud of you,” said Lyall. He seemed sad. “And I am too. I can imagine getting over yourself and calling that band wasn’t something that came easy to you.”
“Thank you,” said Remus.
Lyall watched him with a sad expression, then, as if pushing whatever thought aside, he stood up and pressed a gentle kiss on Remus’ head.
“Good night, beautiful boy.”
“See you in the morning.”
“Bright and early.”
The weather had cleared on Sunday evening when Remus and Frank locked the shop together. Frank left and Remus waited in front of the door, smoking the last cigarette in his packet to calm his nerves. His bass leaned on the wall next to him in his father’s old case. Lily rushed down the streets towards him just when Remus had finished the cigarette.
“God! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I hope you didn’t wait too long?”
“Relax, it’s alright. Just a couple minutes,” said Remus. ”Everything alright with you?”
Lily groaned in annoyance. “Do you have a sister, Remus? An older sister by chance?” She yanked him into the direction of the Clapham Common Station. “We have to take the Tube.”
“No, I don’t have a sister. I don’t have any siblings, in fact. And I reckon I don’t need to ask about you?”
“Sisters are a right pain in the arse,” she said. “But whatever. How have you been? How was your week?”
Somehow, it already felt familiar with Lily. She was bubbly and cheerful, yet not overdone. She gave Remus a good feeling, a feeling of being welcomed and important. It was a fragile feeling, ready to be shattered by a wrong glance or a misplaced sigh. But Lily didn’t shatter the feeling on the Tube nor on the bus nor on the way to a white, two storey house with green shutters that sat quietly in the middle of a yard. The front gate was open and Lily walked to the dark green front door resolutely.
“Don’t be nervous, Remus!”