The Taming of Lilah May by Vanessa Curtis Page B

used to do before it all went wrong.
    â€˜Yeah, Liles – you look so cool doing that, NOT,’ I hear in my head.
    There’s a faint whiff of Jay in the bedroom for a moment. Sweat, spliffs, guitars and hair gel. Then it floats away as quickly as it came.
    I start to shake again.
    Bindi holds my hand.
    I don’t know what makes me want to do this, but I take Bindi into Jay’s room later on.
    The last time she came into his room was when he still lived at home, before he started going all weird. He used to be really nice to my mates and chat to them about school and music and silly stuff.
    Now Bindi’s creeping about like a non-believer in a church, trying not to touch anything until I give her an exasperated shove.
    â€˜He’s not exactly going to mind if you mess anything up, is he?’ I say, with a hint of my anger coming back.
    Bindi is kind enough not to snap back at me. She picks up a pile of tatty old copies of NME magazine and leafs through them with a bemused look on her delicate face.
    â€˜I’ve never heard of any of these bands,’ she says. ‘Why haven’t I?’
    I grin.
    â€˜â€™Cos you only listen to Asian music,’ I say. ‘Jay was really into his indie stuff. His band played loads of it. You know, like the stuff Adam Carter plays now.’
    Bindi gives a slight jump when I say this. Or at least, I think she does. My mind’s all over the place. I might have imagined it.
    She’s staring at me now with a look I can’t quite work out.
    â€˜What?’ I say. ‘What are you thinking?’
    â€˜If I say it,’ she says, ‘you’ll think I’m really mad. Or selfish.’
    I smile.
    â€˜You, selfish?’ I say. ‘Go on – just say it.’
    â€˜Well,’ says Bindi. ‘I know this is a terrible time for your family. And I know you really miss Jay. But, the thing is – I’m kind of a bit jealous of you sometimes.’
    I’m so surprised at this, that I nearly slide off the side of Jay’s bed.
    â€˜Me?’ I say. ‘My life is totally rubbish. Why would you be jealous of me?’
    Bindi sighs and looks around Jay’s bedroom.
    â€˜This,’ she says. ‘Your own bedrooms. One each. I have to share with two of my sisters.’
    I glance around at Jay’s posters. I’ve never really thought about it.
    â€˜And,’ Bindi continues. I can feel her gathering pace. ‘And your mum and dad give you loads and loads of attention. There’s always one of themthere for you to talk to.’
    I give this a bit of thought.
    â€˜It feels like they were never there for us,’ I say. ‘It’s part of why Jay went missing, I reckon. They were caught up in their jobs all the time.’
    Bindi is shaking her head.
    â€˜No,’ she says. ‘I can tell you what it’s like to have parents who never listen to you, never even notice if you are home sometimes. And all the attention is focused on the little kids, not on me. Believe me, Lilah – you’re lucky.’
    I don’t feel very lucky, what with my parents having gone off to identify a body that may or may not be my brother, but she looks so sad that I don’t have the heart to make that dig, so I don’t.
    I play Bindi some Manic Street Preachers instead, even though it kills my heart to hear the familiar songs, and she puts on this sort of fixed smile and taps her foot along, which looks really weird. I can tell she hates it, so I take it off again.
    I dig out some of the photographs of Jay’s first gig and we look at them in silence.
    There’s Ben, his lead singer, all spiky black hair and screwed-up face, howling some song into the microphone.
    There’s Eddie, their drummer, head down, blonde shaggy hair over his face and the sweat shining on his bare chest.
    There’s Matt, the keyboard player, standing with his legs apart in a typical rock-star pose, his long