the dream scenario for all those Year nine boys just desperately hoping that they were the lucky duckling who was destined to be a swan. Even if it meant getting bashed in the head by a bunch of posh gits every Sunday.
‘We need to do something!’ Megan growled, bored out of her mind. Tomorrow there would be school and GCSEs, coursework and nothing else but ‘focus, Megan, focus’.
‘We do stuff!’
‘We listen to music and watch dumb movies, and talk about the same shit over and over! I want to do something that will change something.’
‘Write a book,’ he shrugged.
‘More work, no thanks.’
‘Paint? Collage? Macramé?’ Lucas listed the things his mother had picked up and dropped each month for the last year. ‘Pottery? Candle-making? Stamp collecting?’
Megan sat up. ‘Hey! How about you teach me to play guitar?’
Lucas looked up from underneath his dark eyelashes. ‘You can’t be serious.’
She shrugged.
‘Meg, I love ya, honestly mate, but…you think I could teach you something without us wanting to kill each other?’
She fluttered her eyelashes and trembled her bottom lip, thinking of her dad’s acoustic guitar downstairs. ‘It could be fun…’
‘It could be hell.’
‘All right, you play, I’ll sing,’ she compromised, ‘pick something.’
‘Megan, I’ve known you for almost ten years – when have you ever sung anything? Except belting out “Summer of ’69” when it comes on the radio? Which sounds terrible.’
Megan widened her eyes and just grinned. ‘Try me.’
***
The next couple of days passed quickly enough, with Heather doing at least three more ‘last minute’ shops for things that were apparently absolutely necessary. The girls for the most part read their books, went wandering around the village, baked gingerbread cookies, listened to music with Jonathan, or played guitar.
‘Is this right?’ Skye looked at her fingers, stretching across the frets. Megan adjusted them a little, then nodded.
‘Is it uncomfortable?’
Skye nodded.
‘Then it’s right.’
‘Wasn’t this painful when Trouble was teaching me,’ Skye said slyly, strumming a little with a leopard-print plectrum Megan had found in her jewellery box upstairs. ‘Is he going to show me any more?’
‘You want him to?’ Megan asked casually.
‘Sure, he was good.’
So Megan asked, and around Lucas came to sit in their living room with his acoustic guitar, and a pocket amp for Skye. Jonathan nodded, and shook his hand. ‘Good to have you back around, son. Sorry for all that messy business.’
That messy business being my daughter? Megan thought irritably, but Lucas had kissed her when she met him at the door, so she was in a good enough mood to let it go.
Heather walked in, dropped off gingerbread cookies in the shape of hearts, nodded at Megan with approval, and went back to polishing the silver, and ticking off her ‘To Do’ lists.
After half an hour with different chord progressions, Skye could play ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘Roll Over Beethoven’.
‘She’s a natural, isn’t she Meg?’ Lucas grinned at Skye as she strummed uncertainly, going a little bit red at the compliment. Must be the Bright effect, Megan thought, it targeted McAllister girls. Her daughter was usually busy working out what someone had done wrong, trying to unspool their secrets, not blushing when they gave out compliments. It made her feel a little better about her own weakness.
‘Meg, wanna play with me?’ He grinned, that boyish, charming grin and she wanted to kiss him and smack him.
‘I haven’t played in years.’
‘So sing.’
‘I haven’t sung in years either,’ she shrugged.
‘That’s not true,’ Skye frowned, ‘I’ve heard you in the shower, you’re really good. Why don’t you sing that one that was on the tape in the car, the one you wrote?’
Lucas brightened at this. ‘You’ve got one of my tapes?’
‘We were listening on the way down. Didn’t even realise it was there,’ Megan shrugged.
‘So, you remember the words?’
Of course she remembered the words, they were sewn into her like every other memory. But did she want to start all that again? Singing had felt like home. Or rather, singing with Lucas had felt like home.
Megan sighed. ‘Baby, pass it here.’ She gestured to the guitar, then slipped the strap over her head and ran through a few scales to warm up her fingers. ‘I’m a bit rusty,’ she warned them.
Lucas nodded at her as he started playing, taking the lead with his fancy finger work as she strummed in rhythm. She started singing, like birds taking flight, and though her voice seemed croaky and worn to her own ears, Skye smiled. She kept eye contact with Lucas, waiting for him to come in with the harmonies. She’d always loved how their voices merged together and made something better than either of them.
We keep making the same mistakes
Over and over and over again.
Travelled down one more lonely path
Where I couldn’t find a friend.
But something about you catches my eye
Makes my heartbeat wild.
And I’ll keep making that same mistake
Over and over again.
Her eyes were glued to his as they sang, and her chest threatened to split with the intensity of it. On one hand, it was all too much, singing with him, kissing him, laughing with him, but on the other it felt like home. And like the song said, maybe she was ready to make those mistakes again. Just for a little while.
‘I had no idea you were cool, Mum.’ Skye stuck out her tongue.
‘Thanks very much! Guess who’s not getting presents for Christmas?’ Megan grinned.
‘You’re joking, right?’ Skye said seriously. ‘Because I meant it as a compliment.’
‘I knew exactly what you meant it as, cheeky monkey.’ Megan rolled her eyes and passed the guitar back. They looked up to find Lucas staring at them, grin playing around his mouth.
‘What?’ they asked in unison.
‘You guys aren’t like other people, are you?’
‘Not a chance,’ Megan shrugged, looking at Skye.
‘Anna says we have no choice, living with eccentric artists as we do,’ Skye informed him, ‘although she says Mum’s innate need to be a good person gets in the way of a lot of creative energy.’
‘Anna says a lot of things.’ Megan rolled her eyes.
‘Are you going to stay for dinner with us, Trouble? We’re getting fish and chips!’ Skye said, trying to tempt him.
‘I-uh…don’t know?’ He looked to Megan, nodding his