“Well, you wouldn’t get a lot for me; I’m damaged goods.” I meant it jokingly, but in all honesty, that’s exactly what I am.
“George, you’re not damaged, babe; you’re just…” I can hear his brain tick down the line as he tries to think of a polite way of saying I’m a bit touched in the head. “You’re a beautiful young woman, trying to find her way in life after having the most devastatingly, fucked-up thing happen to her.” I’ve never heard my brother speak so eloquently. Lennon yeah, Marley, occasionally during interviews, but Bailey, never. Because of our age difference and the fact that he wasn’t involved with the band, he is the brother I am least close to. It doesn’t mean I love him any less; I just haven’t shared as many experiences with him.
“I love you, Bails.” I can’t think of what else to say to him.
We chat for a good half hour, about Sam and the kids, my parents, my other two brothers, and then I ask him the question that’s been on my mind since I first called his number.
“What exactly did Cam say when he called you last night?” He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then I hear him let out a long breath.
“The first time he called, he said he had just spoken to you and you sounded a little off. He just wanted to know where you were living so he could go around and make sure you were all right.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him not to worry. I’d deal with it.”
“Bet that pleased him.”
“Na, George, it fuckin’ never.” I close my eyes. Thinking about how pissed off that would have made control-freak Cam, causes a little tug at my heart. “He got right on the turn and started having a go, saying we should be looking after you better, you shouldn’t be on your own, et cetera. And course, he doesn’t know you’re in fucking Australia, does he, so he’s wanting to know why you’re off your tits at five on a Saturday afternoon, and why ain’t none of us doing anything about it.” I shouldn’t laugh, but after hearing my brother’s strong cockney accent and imagining the conversational standoff that would have gone on between the two of them, I just can’t help it.
“So, how was it left?”
“Well, first he threatened to blow my legs off if I didn’t tell him where you were.”
“What?”
“George, this is Cameron King we’re talking about; he has been known to get a bit nasty.” I’m only too aware of how ‘nasty’ Cam can get. I witnessed him blowing off a bloke’s kneecaps in a pub car park many years ago, but I’m not about to confess that to my brother.
“So then what?”
“I told him if he blew my legs off then he would have no chance of ever getting back with you, and that the ol’ man would hunt him down and blow his fuckin’ head off.”
“Bails!” I shriek at him. I don’t know what bit of his last sentence I’m more pissed off about.
“Look, George, the bloke’s bang in love with ya, babe; he always has been. He was devastated when you got back with Sean, then after the accident, he called constantly.” He goes quiet for a few seconds. “He was actually really good to me. We had a few beers and chatted a few times, ya know, when you weren’t doing so good.” I feel a sharp stab of guilt in my heart at the negative effect my suicide attempts have had on my family. “He’s had his own shit to deal with in the past, George, what with what went on with his misses and kid and everything.”
“Chantelle, yeah, he told me about it.”
“Did he? Strange, really, that you two have both been through something similar, both lost your other half and your babies.” We both remain silent for a few seconds as we get lost in our own thoughts and digest that coincidence. I had in fact thought about that a few times since my birthday; how many people in this world lost a partner and child at the same awful moment? Thankfully, very few but it had happened to both Cam and me.
“He was one of the first people to call me after the accident, like within a couple of hours, George.” I wasn’t aware of this fact; I’d only found out months later, on my birthday, that he had asked about me at all. “He called a couple of times a week in the beginning, just to see how you were doing, asking if there was anything he could do.” He pauses then takes a deep breath. “Why were you talking to him last night, George? How come you were on the blower to him?” I knew this question would come, and I’d already decided I’d be honest with my brother; it was the least I could do.
“When I was out last night, somebody laughed; you know, that big loud laugh Cam has?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, somebody laughed like that, and I just started thinking about him and then when I got home, I was drunk and a little bit stoned and I, erm… I texted him.”
“Georgia!” I felt like I was seven with the way he said my name.
“I know, I know, Bails, but I did it. Don’t judge me, okay. We’ve all sent a drunk text before.”
“Yeah, but he said he spoke to ya.”
“Yeah, he did. I don’t think my texts were making much sense.” I need Bailey to be honest when he answers the question I’m about to ask him, but I actually don’t know if I want to hear the answer. “Why’d he panic? Bails, does he know? Does he know what I did? Does he know about my time in the psych unit?” I know the answer’s going to be yes.
“I just told ya, George, me and him had a few beers when you were, you know, when you weren’t coping.”
“Bailey, you can say it. We both know what I did, when I tried to top myself.” My face burns with shame as I say the words.
“Yeah, then.” There’s a few seconds of silence. “Anyway, yeah, he sort of told me how he’d turned to drink and drugs and how in the end, his family stepped in. They had him put into some rehab place by force, and it was the best thing ever for him. He hated it and he hated them for a while, too, ya know, for doing it to him, but he said it’s what needed to be done.” He’s quiet for a second again. “Did you know all this about him, George, about Cam?”
I nod, remembering the day Benny came to fetch me, when I found Cam in such a mess. “You remember that day I went off with Benny, and you all thought Cam had kidnapped me?”
“When you still lived in the flat above the shop?”
I smile at the memory of that place. “Yeah, when I had the welcoming party from Hell waiting for me.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Benny had come and got me cos Cam had relapsed. When I got to his place, he was out of it on coke and booze. He was collapsed in the shower when I got there. I tried to sort him out, but he was too big and heavy for me to move.” I let out a long breath, remembering the mess he had gotten himself in, remembering him telling me he loved me, remembering the absolute panic in his voice when he thought they were going to lock him up again. Him screaming at his brother and Benny to get me out, to not let me see him in that state. I close my eyes for a few seconds, trying to get those thoughts out of my head. “His brother turned up and he and Benny got him into bed and cleaned the place up; you know, the place he had above the wine bar?”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s still got it, I think. He just moved his office out, that was all.”
“Does he still own the wine bar?’
“Yep, he’s never sold it, despite the success of ‘Kittens’.” My stomach churns.
“Kittens?”
“Yeah, the chain of clubs he has.”
“He has a chain?”
“Yeah, you went to the opening night of the first one in Shoreditch the other year. Don’t you remember when you punched that bird’s lights out and it was in all the papers?” My jaw clenches at the mention of Whorely.
“I thought that club was called KK’s or something like that?”
“It is, Kitten and King’s, but everyone calls it KK’s. He’s got three of them on the go in England now, and he’s just opened one in Ibiza and one in Madrid.”