couple of months previous. Jack was
happy for his two band members to amend his songs and Paige had
made sweeping changes to several of his tracks to increase their
tempo.
Paige was more protective of her three songs; “I Am
Free” was written about a naturist running through a rainstorm and
she argued that Jack could not understand the song as he was “a
bloody textile.” He raised his eyebrows at the time and pointed out
that he was recording their music naked – at her insistence – but
this was not sufficient for the fiery redhead to concede to his
changes.
As June and their
exams drew to a close, the three of them had twelve songs they were
delighted with and had spent hours perfecting, and Paige had grown
to like her wealthy friend. True to her promise, she had kissed him
after every session, but had also told him that it didn't mean that
she liked him, much to Claire's amusement; Paige was obviously
lying and it was clear Paige and Jack had developed a bond that
neither of them wanted to admit to.
“What we need to
do is some gigs,” Paige muttered. “Studio singing is fine, but
singing live will be awesome.”
“I was going to
send our CD off to some record companies,” Jack suggested. “I mean,
they will love some of it, I know.” Paige sniffed and ran her hands
through her hair. “They will love Paige's voice, certainly.”
“I hadn't thought
of being a music star.”
“Yeah, if you go
on TV you need to sing with your clothes on,” Claire added.
“Depends on the TV
channel!” She quipped and shrugged. “Yeah, I know. OK, send 'em
off, I think it'll be a good experience. But I have no idea if I
can sing well with my clothes on.”
“Really?” Jack
asked. “You would be OK with us sending copies of our music to
record companies and agents and the like?” Paige nodded as she
downed the lunchtime beer. “Oh and I've had an idea for a change of
riff in the Cotton Tails.”
Paige groaned; it
was one of her songs that he wanted to change, but he tugged at her
naked arm and the nude girl returned to their studio room.
* *
* * *
“Jack,” his father
boomed, and the eighteen year-old shifted awkwardly. “Now that your
exams are over, I bet you want to get straight down and working at
the firm,” he gushed.
Jack groaned.
“Well …”
“Well what,
darling?” The simpering voice of Anne Rees-Montague asked. “You
can't stay around here all day.”
“Yeah, I know,”
Jack agreed. “But I've got all year. I've worked really hard on my
A Levels, and I would love a few weeks, just 'til I get my results,
to just chill and spend some 'me time.'”
“Me time?” His
father laughed and tapped on the table. “You're eighteen, lad! Yer
need to stop fannying about and get some real work done.”
“I will. I want a
few weeks, just to recharge my batteries.”
“Work'll do that,”
his father barked. “And what would you do for two months?”
Jack sighed. “I'm
back into my music. After Ellie left, I lost the will to do it, but
now I am taking full advantage of the recording studio. I'll start
in September time.”
His father snorted
and spoke derisively at his son. “I don't think so.”
“Paul,” a voice
came from the corner of the room, and Jack looked to see his Aunt
Lucinda holding a half-empty bottle of whisky in her hand.”
“This doesn't
concern you,” she was told, but Lucinda cackled and sat down on the
sofa. “Can you leave us please? I need to have a word with my
son.”
“Yeah and it's my
nephew that you are terrorising.”
“When I want
parenting advice from you, I shall ask.”
Lucinda sat back
and smiled at her brother. “I remember a little boy starting work
at seventeen in the holidays and used to come home crying 'cause
his father had made him work from 8am to 8pm without a break and he
just wanted time with his secret girlfriend.” Paul sat motionless.
“What was her name? Remind me.”
“It doesn't
matter.”
“I think it does.
She was the
happy for his two band members to amend his songs and Paige had
made sweeping changes to several of his tracks to increase their
tempo.
Paige was more protective of her three songs; “I Am
Free” was written about a naturist running through a rainstorm and
she argued that Jack could not understand the song as he was “a
bloody textile.” He raised his eyebrows at the time and pointed out
that he was recording their music naked – at her insistence – but
this was not sufficient for the fiery redhead to concede to his
changes.
As June and their
exams drew to a close, the three of them had twelve songs they were
delighted with and had spent hours perfecting, and Paige had grown
to like her wealthy friend. True to her promise, she had kissed him
after every session, but had also told him that it didn't mean that
she liked him, much to Claire's amusement; Paige was obviously
lying and it was clear Paige and Jack had developed a bond that
neither of them wanted to admit to.
“What we need to
do is some gigs,” Paige muttered. “Studio singing is fine, but
singing live will be awesome.”
“I was going to
send our CD off to some record companies,” Jack suggested. “I mean,
they will love some of it, I know.” Paige sniffed and ran her hands
through her hair. “They will love Paige's voice, certainly.”
“I hadn't thought
of being a music star.”
“Yeah, if you go
on TV you need to sing with your clothes on,” Claire added.
“Depends on the TV
channel!” She quipped and shrugged. “Yeah, I know. OK, send 'em
off, I think it'll be a good experience. But I have no idea if I
can sing well with my clothes on.”
“Really?” Jack
asked. “You would be OK with us sending copies of our music to
record companies and agents and the like?” Paige nodded as she
downed the lunchtime beer. “Oh and I've had an idea for a change of
riff in the Cotton Tails.”
Paige groaned; it
was one of her songs that he wanted to change, but he tugged at her
naked arm and the nude girl returned to their studio room.
* *
* * *
“Jack,” his father
boomed, and the eighteen year-old shifted awkwardly. “Now that your
exams are over, I bet you want to get straight down and working at
the firm,” he gushed.
Jack groaned.
“Well …”
“Well what,
darling?” The simpering voice of Anne Rees-Montague asked. “You
can't stay around here all day.”
“Yeah, I know,”
Jack agreed. “But I've got all year. I've worked really hard on my
A Levels, and I would love a few weeks, just 'til I get my results,
to just chill and spend some 'me time.'”
“Me time?” His
father laughed and tapped on the table. “You're eighteen, lad! Yer
need to stop fannying about and get some real work done.”
“I will. I want a
few weeks, just to recharge my batteries.”
“Work'll do that,”
his father barked. “And what would you do for two months?”
Jack sighed. “I'm
back into my music. After Ellie left, I lost the will to do it, but
now I am taking full advantage of the recording studio. I'll start
in September time.”
His father snorted
and spoke derisively at his son. “I don't think so.”
“Paul,” a voice
came from the corner of the room, and Jack looked to see his Aunt
Lucinda holding a half-empty bottle of whisky in her hand.”
“This doesn't
concern you,” she was told, but Lucinda cackled and sat down on the
sofa. “Can you leave us please? I need to have a word with my
son.”
“Yeah and it's my
nephew that you are terrorising.”
“When I want
parenting advice from you, I shall ask.”
Lucinda sat back
and smiled at her brother. “I remember a little boy starting work
at seventeen in the holidays and used to come home crying 'cause
his father had made him work from 8am to 8pm without a break and he
just wanted time with his secret girlfriend.” Paul sat motionless.
“What was her name? Remind me.”
“It doesn't
matter.”
“I think it does.
She was the
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