Life, Death and Gold Leather Trousers Read online

  Instead of heading home – can’t face Mum just yet – I decide to drop in on Niall and Jen instead. Baby Miles now greets me with a delighted grin. Co-ba, he calls me, which I think is his word for Clover. I take him in his buggy back to the seafront. He keeps shouting, “Co-ba! Coba!” to the seagulls, so I decide it means anything that makes him happy.

  There’s a big group of girls on the beach, shrieking while they dry off on towels and trying to wriggle out of bikinis without showing anything. There’s a flash of blonde hair, and a familiar voice slices the breeze, but I keep marching on, pushing the buggy without looking back. There’s so much buzzing around my brain now – Dad’s wedding, Jupe’s letters – that there simply isn’t room for any Skelling in my head. Or Riley, for that matter. At least, most of the time…

  By the time I’ve taken Miles home and arrived back at our street, all’s quiet. There’s no hammering or sawing. Maybe Ed’s having a tea break, or had to go off and do a proper job.

  It’s so quiet, in fact, that I realize I can hear the thudding of my heart.

  Riley is standing in front of our house, and he’s holding a guitar case. It’s an old, faded case with fraying handles. And I know, even from here, across the street, what’s inside it.

  He sees me and nods coolly. I try to nod back, but the grin surges like a wave across my face.

  Riley is clutching my sunset guitar.

  “Hi,” comes my iciest voice. Riley looks especially cute today, but let’s not dwell on that. Even more tanned now, which brings out the honeyed flecks in his eyes.

  “I, um, need to talk to you,” he says hesitantly.

  Don’t melt. Don’t fixate on his gorgeous face. “Is this what I think it is?” I indicate the guitar.

  “Yeah,” he mutters to his feet.

  Ah, one-word territory. “Did … my mum give it to your dad?” I ask.

  “Uh-huh.” He looks almost guilty. “Dad didn’t realize it was yours,” he adds. “He couldn’t believe it was Jupe’s, either, with your mum virtually giving it away like that…”

  “I couldn’t believe it either,” I say dryly.

  “So why, when she could’ve made a fortune…”

  I shrug, forgetting that I’m supposed to be aloof. “You know what?” I say. “We’ve just spent a week at Jupe’s old place. I think Mum’d had enough…” Of course she had. That’s why she didn’t want to keep it. She wanted it out of her life, in the same way that she didn’t want Jupe writing letters to me. “Anyway,” I add, “how did you figure out it was mine?”

  “I just started playing it – or trying to play it…” A smile flits across his lips, twisting my heart as if we’re connected. “I looked through the pockets in the case,” he continues, “to see if there was a chord book or some old songbook. Anything that’d help me…” He nudges a weed with his trainer. “Look, can I come in for a minute? There’s something I want to show you.”

  I know I should grab my guitar and say I’m busy, which is what any girl with a smidge of self-respect would do. Instead I let him in, sensing my iciness melting away. He props the guitar against our kitchen table. Mum’s left a note: Gone swimming with Lily love Mum xx.

  Riley fishes out a scrap of paper from his jeans pocket. “This was in the guitar case. I think you should read it.”

  Frowning, I uncrumple it as best as I can and read:

  Dear Clover,

  I sincerely hope it’s you who’s holding this note. If it’s not, and the finder – whoever you are – doesn’t know a certain Clover Jones, then there’s nothing for it but to screw up this letter and do whatever you will with this guitar of mine. It no longer matters to me.

  However, if it is you, Clover, then I want you to know that this guitar is for you. I don’t care what happens to the rest of my stuff, and have left instructions for your mum to deal with it as she sees fit. But this guitar – well, it’s very special to me, even though it caused me to lose my family and never see you again. Do you remember what happened?

  You were nine or ten (you must be a teenager by now. That would make me feel really old, if I wasn’t dead already). Your mum had warned me that I shouldn’t let you play this guitar, but I insisted that you couldn’t possibly damage it. I wanted you to find out for yourself what it could do. The way I see it, the instruments you play as a child should be special. That way, music imprints itself on your ears and your heart and stays with you for life. It changes you – for ever.

  This guitar is special, Clover, more than you or your mum realized. It’s a 1960s Fender, which means nothing unless you’re a sad old dead muso like me. The guy who first inspired me to start playing gave it to me. It’s pretty valuable. But this isn’t about money. When you dropped it, I wasn’t angry because of its value, but because your mum had warned me not to let you play it. You know what? All I heard, when I was growing up, was how clever and sorted my little sister Kerry was, and that I was just an aimless drifter with my music and crazy ideas. I should have listened to her, shouldn’t I?

  So I blamed you, Clover. I said you were selfish and stupid. I’ll never forget how your face, which had been alive with excitement as you played, just crumpled. I knew there was no going back.

  So you all left, and I’d lost my family.

  I glance up at Riley. He’s gone blurry as if I’m seeing him through a sliver of seaglass I’ve found on the beach.

  I heard about the car accident, when I went to visit your mum when you and Lily were at school. Things didn’t work out that day. I’ve never been very good at keeping my temper in check when it comes to things – or people – I care deeply about. But it’s not surprising that your mum never got in touch with me again, not when I behaved so badly in front of her boss… Then, when I’d almost given up, I started to receive letters from you. I’m not the best letter writer and I’ve never had email – stuck in a time warp, aren’t I? Anyway, from what you wrote, I don’t think you were getting my replies. So I stopped after that. Still sent birthday cards, though. I hope you got them.

  When I started to get ill with cancer, Clover, I had some decisions to make. The main thing was to find a good home for this guitar, so I want you to have it. As you can see, it was repaired and is virtually as good as new. My only request is that you don’t smash it up on stage when you’re a hugely famous rock star like your mad old uncle, haha.

  With much love,

  Jupe xxx

  P.S. I know things are getting worse and I’ll probably have to go to hospital soon. I have tried to rehome Fuzz with various neighbours in the village but he keeps sneaking back to Crickle Cottage, the batty old thing. Maybe you found him. Or maybe he found you.

  “So … what now?” I say in a whisper.

  “About what?” Riley’s eyes are piercing mine.

  “About the guitar. I can’t keep it, can I? It’s yours now. Mum gave it to your dad…”

  “Are you crazy?” Riley exclaims. “You really think I’d keep it?”

  “Well, er…” I mumble.

  “God, Clover,” he retorts. “You know what my dad’s like. Believes in karma and all that, insisted I brought it straight back to you, said it’s where it belongs…”

  I nod. “Riley,” I say hesitantly, “what happened this summer?”

  He bites his lip. “You mean that time with Sophie?”

  “Yeah. That time I came round to your place when Ske … when Sophie was there. It was her, wasn’t it, who told you I’d said all that horrible stuff?”

  Riley shrugs, and his ears turn pink.

  “And you believed her,” I add.

  His eyes meet mine, sending a shoal of tiny fish darting around my stomach. “Yeah, at the time, I did. I know it was stupid…”

  I fix on those hazel eyes, challenging him to believe her over me. “I’d never have said anything like that,” I add.

  H
is face clouds, and he looks around our kitchen as if not knowing what to do next. “I didn’t know what to think,” he adds. “You see, me and Sophie go way back…”

  “You told me that already,” I remind him.

  “And … I know she can be a bit mean to you, but…”

  “A bit mean?” I splutter.

  “But she’s not really like that,” he adds, perching on the edge of our table. “Yeah, I know she seems really confident and full of herself, but there’s other stuff you don’t know about.”

  I stare at Riley. “What other stuff?”

  He inhales deeply and looks at me, sending shivers right through me. “I’m sorry, Clover. I can’t tell you. I promised I never would.”

  “But, Riley…”

  “It’s too important,” he cuts in. “Then this happened – Dad bringing home your guitar and everything, and when I read the note … it was like a sign, you know? That I should come and see you and try to sort things out. I’ve, um…” He lowers his gaze. “I’ve missed you.”

  “But, Riley…” I pause. “I never know where I am with you. One minute we’re … friends … the next, you’re cutting me off, just like that…”

  “I’m sorry,” he mutters. “Now I guess I’ve really messed up.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I say quietly. “Maybe I did. It’s been a weird time for me too.”

  We stand there for a moment, and I pray that Mum and Lily won’t burst in. What happens next takes my breath away, as Riley steps towards me and wraps me up in his arms. “I wanted to come and see you,” he says gently. “Jupe’s letter kind of gave me an excuse.”

  I can’t help smiling at that. Thanks, Jupe, I say silently.

  “Hey,” Riley adds, “maybe I was stupid to believe what Sophie said. She admitted, eventually, that she hadn’t actually heard you saying that stuff about me, that it was just going around…”

  “So you know she was lying?”

  Riley nods. “I shouldn’t have listened, but I guess I was just feeling touchy about the whole guitar thing. I know I’m rubbish, but I couldn’t give up playing, could I?”

  “Why not?” I ask, totally baffled now.

  “Because…” he laughs, “if I stopped coming to Niall’s and gave up guitar, I’d have had no excuse to be with you, would I?”

  Isn’t that the maddest thing? That Riley thought he needed an excuse to hang out with me? Something squeaks in the utility room, and we flinch and jump apart. It’s Cedric, running on his wheel. You might think small rodents aren’t good for much apart from scampering up people’s sleeves, but let me tell you, they’re brilliant at dispelling tension when you don’t know what to say next.

  By the time Mum and Lily come home, me and Riley are lounging and talking in my room. They’re baking together downstairs. Mum seems to have a lot more time for us these days, and you know what? There’s been another turning point. Her offerings used to often end up in the bin. The one time she produced fairy cakes for Lily’s school spring fair, I spotted one of the other mothers quietly dropping them into a plastic carrier bag and putting them under the table out of sight. I felt so crushed when I saw that.

  Anyway, the heart-shaped cookie was a definite improvement, and the chocolate brownie smells that are wafting upstairs are delicious too. In fact, our house smells even better than Jess’s place.

  As for my afternoon, that’s pretty heavenly too. I play the sunset guitar, and Riley sings. He’s reluctant at first, saying his voice is rubbish and he doesn’t know the words to any songs. So I grab a pen and paper and write out the words to that song – the one Jupe wrote for me. He never got round to thinking of a proper title so it ended up just being called “Clover’s Song”.

  That’s what we play. When Riley sings my name, it makes the back of my neck tingle as if Cedric’s just scampered across it. I sort of wish Jess was here to add bass, because she’s already sounding pretty good after one lesson with Niall and a few sessions here with me.

  But really, I’m glad no one else is here in my room right now, or it wouldn’t be just Riley and me.

  New term starts, and the parched afternoons seem to stretch for ever. I haven’t seen Skelling for ages and she’d slowly started to fade from my mind. In fact, I couldn’t believe I’d been so wound up about her. First day back, though, I spot her heading across the playing field towards me at break. Unusually, she’s on her own. No Amy or any of the other sidekicks.

  “Good summer?” she asks.

  “Er, yeah,” I tell her. And something’s changed. Maybe it’s Skelling – she’s not quite so cocky – or perhaps it’s me, and she just doesn’t faze me any more. “How about you?” I ask, because I feel like I should.

  “It was all right,” she says coolly. “Um, I hear you and Riley have been doing a music thing…”

  I nod, waiting for the scathing remark.

  “Seeing a lot of him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am,” I say firmly.

  “It’s just…” She flushes and looks away. “Me and Riley have been friends since we were little, you know?”

  “Yes, he told me that.”

  “And…” She pushes back her hair, which has turned even blonder during the summer. “He knows things about me that no one else does.”

  I stare at her. “Well, he hasn’t told me anything, apart from the two of you knowing each other in Haven.”

  “Honestly?” For a moment, it’s not Skelling any more. It’s a scared girl who wants to believe I’m telling the truth.

  “Honestly,” I reply.

  “You mean … he didn’t tell you about my dad?”

  I shake my head. Across the field, I see a small group of her mates laughing loudly, stealing someone’s schoolbag and flinging it on to the parched grass. “He hasn’t said anything, Sophie.”

  She peers at me, as if trying to decide whether I’m trustworthy or not. “Oh, you might as well know,” she says sharply, the old, brittle tone creeping back into her voice. “My dad’s been in prison, yeah? Got into trouble in Haven where we used to live. That’s why we moved. Mum wanted to get away from everything. Then Riley and his dad moved here too, and she was petrified it was all going to come out…”

  “But I’d never have thought…” I cut in.

  “Course you didn’t,” she scoffs, jutting out her chin. “No one would. They all think I’ve got everything, right? But Riley knows I haven’t. He knows my dad’s been in trouble, and that we had to move ’cause so many people were waiting for him to come out of jail…”

  “Is he out now?” I ask. “You said he had a new company car…”

  She bursts out laughing. “It’s not that kind of company car,” she scoffs. “My dad’s loaded, right, but he doesn’t work for a company…”

  “Oh.” I try not to look dumbstruck.

  “Yeah, he’s out now but not living with us. Mum doesn’t want anything to do with him. Listen…” Her face darkens. “You’re not going to spread this around, are you? Mum would go mad if it gets out…”

  “Of course I won’t,” I say quickly. “And honestly, Riley didn’t tell me a thing.”

  She nods and turns away, heading towards her friends. “Well, good luck with your music thing.”

  “Thanks,” I say, but I’m not sure she heard.

  I don’t mention Skelling’s secret to Riley because it’s between him and her and not me. And even though I’ve angsted over what’s going on between them, I sort of like the fact that he kept it all to himself. It means he’s trustworthy. I can’t imagine many people knowing something like that and not blabbing. Anyway, now we’re back at school, I don’t have time to worry any more. With the “music thing”, as she put it, we need all the time we can get.

  By “we”, I mean the band. That’s right: a real band. Well, sort of. We’re a bit like Dad’s wonky back porch
because most of the time it feels like we might fall to pieces at any moment. But somehow, by a whisper, we hold it together.

  Our band doesn’t have a name yet, because you hear about people debating for months – even years – what to call themselves, then they realize their time’s run out and they’ve forgotten to write any songs. So, for the moment, we’re just “us”. That’s (imagine me introducing them on stage, a spotlight falling on each band member in turn):

  Riley Hart! (vocals)

  Jess Williams! (bass)

  Lily Jones! (drums)

  And finally me, Clover Jones! (rhythm guitar)

  At first I couldn’t figure out where we’d practise. Mum’s not averse to loud music but she is paranoid about upsetting the neighbours, and I knew she’d object to all four of us crammed into our bedroom. Then I found out that Ed wasn’t building a gym after all, because he let slip that he was soundproofing the walls. It’s a rehearsal room, in the back garden, where Dad’s greenhouse used to be. He’d sworn Mum to secrecy. Ed said, “Just wanted to keep Jupe’s memory alive. Isn’t it right that there’s live music around here?” Then he scurried away, all bashful, and put on Sky Sports really loud.

  I know, though, that he’s done this for Lily and me. Every so often he pokes his head round the door and says, “Is that it? That’s as loud as you kids can play? When are you gonna let me join in?” Apart from that, it’s perfect. I guess that, for Ed, this project wasn’t too big or too small.

  It’s only Dad who’s iffy about the whole band thing. Last time I saw him he said, “You’re looking pale, sweetheart. Have you been spending all your spare time in that shed?”

  I told him yes, and that it’s not a shed but a rehearsal room.

  “What a waste of the sun,” he muttered. I know he’s proud, though, because he’s asked us to play at his wedding next year. “No pressure or anything,” he said with a wink.