Please Don't Stop The Music (22 page)

Do
this, then it’s over. It’s all over.

Number nine was carved on a weathered bit of elm, nailed to a
swinging sign at the end of an overgrown driveway which curved and
dipped. The house was a long way from the road. Once I rounded the
first bend I could see a car slewed casually across a grassed-over
turning circle. It was an Audi but I couldn’t be sure it was Ben’s.
Despite the car the house had a deserted look, curtains pulled
across most of the windows and paintwork peeling from the frames.
An enormous ash tree flourished alongside and hung its branches
down over the guttering. It made the house look like an emo kid
trying to hide behind its fringe.

I
wasn’t brave enough to knock. With the gravel crunching a give-away
under my feet, I tried to look as though I had called on
unidentifiable business and shuffled around the outer wall of the
house down a paved walkway and into the back garden.

Where Ben was sprawled face down on the overgrown
lawn.

I
gave a moan and dashed over the spongy grass to crouch beside his
body. He was half-dressed, barefoot in those painted-on black jeans
and the lack of shirt left his tattoo darkly visible, scrawled
across his painfully pale skin. I laid a hand against his ribcage
to check for movement. He couldn’t be dead. He just
couldn’t.

He
wasn’t. With a yell that made me leap several feet backwards he
jumped to his feet. ‘What the …?’

‘
I’m
sorry, I thought you –’

He
cut me off, pulling at the T shirt he’d had cushioning his head.
‘What are you doing here? How did you know …? Why? It’s not …
Harry, he’s OK, isn’t he?’

‘
Zafe gave me the address.’ I watched Ben blinking his way
back to wakefulness. ‘And Harry’s fine. What were you doing out
here?’ I couldn’t keep my eyes off his naked chest. Even though he
was clutching his T shirt against himself like a shield enough
flesh was available for viewing to show that he had bones and
muscles and very little else. He looked like a vertical
greyhound.

‘
What does it look like I was doing? I was lying in the
sun.’

My
heart had settled. ‘It’s not working. You still look like
half-a-pint of milk.’

An
almost-smile. ‘And while I wasn’t expecting a “hello, gorgeous”, I
still find myself surprised. So then. Presuming you didn’t come
just for the insult opportunities?’

‘
I
thought you might –’ No, it was too stupid to say, with him
standing there looking baffled, still blinking sleep from his eyes.
‘I had to show Zafe my boobs before he’d tell me about this
place.’

‘
Sounds like Zafe. He’d make such a rubbish spy.’ Rubbing a
hand through his already disarrayed hair, Ben moved off towards an
open door at the back of the house, not inviting me to follow.
Beyond the door I could see a cool, dark room with a table and
chairs set on a bare slate floor. The sun scalded my skin as though
it was driving me towards the shade but more heavy-headed clouds
were building on the horizon, hinting at a coming storm. I shielded
my eyes and looked up at the sky.

Ben
stopped in the doorway and turned round. ‘You’ve come this far. You
might as well see the rest.’

The
grass was mossy under my feet like walking on fat green pillows,
suddenly becoming cold hard stone as I stepped into the shadow of
the kitchen. Between its thick walls and floor hung a pool of cool
air and I felt myself relax a little.

Ben,
busy plugging in a kettle, ignored me. He’d dumped his T shirt on
the table and when he turned to search for coffee I found that my
eyes would not move from the middle of his chest. His body hair was
as dark as the hair on his head, spiralling from around his nipples
to a narrow band running down the centre of his concave stomach.
His arms were lean but strong, with the muscles running long and
smooth down to his elbows. His ribs pushed the skin of his chest as
he breathed, rolling with each exhalation and making the shadows
that fell across his body move like snakes.

‘
Why
did you come?’ He was wreathed in the gloom at the far side of the
room, the kettle sending a shiver of steam between us. He looked
like a ghost.

‘
I
was frightened.’ I found I’d backed up, the edge of the table was
digging into the backs of my thighs and I couldn’t go any further
without using my bodyweight to force it against the
wall.

‘
Why? Did you think I’d refuse to sell any more of your
buckles?’

‘
That night. With Harry. The way you ran. You were –
freaking.’

Ben
shook his head slowly. ‘And that’s it? I lost it and you thought
you’d come pry into my secrets? Using Zafe, which, I have to say,
is like using a dirty weapon.’

I
forced my voice to be calm. ‘Ben, the way you took off I didn’t
know what to think. Zafe was the only person who’d know where you
might have gone.’

‘
Great. Well you found me. Congratulations,
go get yourself a gold medal. And then just plain
go
.’

‘
I
only wanted to – talk.’ His expression was so dark that I couldn’t
even bring up the subject of my leaving town.

‘
Right. So you smacked me round the face that night to – what?
Bring me to my senses? Oh, Jemima, you have no idea what you’re
dealing with here.’

‘
Then tell me.’ I moved across the kitchen until we stood only
one flagstone apart. I stared into his eyes, watching the pupils
widen until they almost completely overwhelmed the irises, turning
them into ebony discs. ‘Go on. Tell me what it is that’s screwing
you up so totally.’

‘
Why?’ His voice was little more than a whisper and his eyes
flickered, taking in all of my face.

Because you need a friend, I wanted to say. You need someone
to stop this happening. But my throat was clogged with my own
reasons.

‘
You’ve talked to Zafe, he’ll have told you about the drugs …
do you think I’m a junkie? Is that it?’

‘
Ben, I don’t know
what
you are.’

‘
Oh,
God.’ The click as the kettle turned itself off was so loud in the
sudden silence that it bounced off the walls. Ben was breathing
faster now, his ribcage moving under a skin that seemed slick. Was
he sweating? ‘Jemima.’

‘
I’m
listening.’

He
gripped the edges of the sink behind him. ‘I feel sick.’

‘
Do
you need me to get you something? Valium?’

Ben’s eyes were suddenly intense. ‘You seem to know a lot
about it. What’s your story then, Jemima?’

I
shook my head. ‘No. That’s not what this is about.’

He
exhaled. ‘All right. Listen. You’re wrong. I haven’t taken anything
since I came out of rehab. It’s been a close-run thing, sometimes,
but I learned my lesson.’ Ben’s knuckles were grey against the
white enamel. ‘I’m better than that, stronger. I found that I don’t
need a head full of coke to tell me who I am and there’s nothing
like having been an addict for showing you how shallow it all is.
Been there, done that.’ And I wasn’t sure if he meant the drugs or
the fame. ‘And now – now everything is different.’

I
could see the muscles in his shoulders standing out under the
strain. Something was going to give. ‘Jemima –’ A seething roll of
thunder built to a tympanic crescendo and then died to a mumble.
Outside the sun was killed by the cloud and a prickle of static
electricity made my head tingle. Ben ignored it all, just stared at
the floor as though his breakfast was about to reappear. ‘Jemima,’
he said again, glancing my way and then jumped as a lightning flash
speared through the room and was gone.

‘
Just a storm,’ I said. ‘Must be nearly overhead, judging by
that thunder.’

‘
Thunder?’

And suddenly I understood. ‘Oh, my God.
Ben.’ The guitars he couldn’t play. Harry crying upstairs.
Ben hadn’t known he was there.

He
saw the understanding in my face and he broke. The tension in his
shoulders transferred to his back and he jolted away from the sink,
dropping to the floor with his forehead on his knees, his whole
body shaking. Not just crying but sobbing as though everything dear
to him had died.

‘
But how –? I mean –’
The party where he’d known what I was saying on the other
side of a crowded room.
‘You lip
read.’
I went to him, sat beside him.
Touched his arm until he raised his head. ‘Ben. Oh, God,
Ben
.’

The
expression on his face was one I never want to see again. His eyes
were black and it hurt to look into them, his hair was stapled
across his cheeks with the tears that smeared his skin. He’d been
holding this alone for such a long time, carrying it like a private
horror. Under my hand I could feel him trembling. ‘Tell me,’ I
said. ‘Just tell me. All of it.’

It
came in fits and starts and bubbles of speech. His breath sounded
as though it came over cogwheels in his throat and his chest heaved
with the effort of drawing in air. He’d been diagnosed with a
disease that caused a disintegration of the tiny bones of the inner
ear, told his condition could stabilise or worsen at any time.
Hoped for a miracle and then on stage in Philadelphia suddenly
realised he was completely deaf. Ben looked deep into my face as he
shared the terror, the isolation. ‘It’s congenital. My sister has
lost part of her hearing, too. That’s why I bought them the place
in Vancouver, there’s a university out there doing research on
stabilising hearing and working on rebuilding lost bone. Just
because it’s too late for me doesn’t mean she can’t be helped. But
there’s no cure,’ he finished. His skin was chilled under my hand
but his breathing was rapid, feverish. ‘It’s like being completely
alone, trapped in here.’ He touched my forehead with his nearest
finger.

‘
But
hearing aids –?’

‘
Only work if the bones of the inner ear are intact. Mine …’
He tailed off, making a crumbling gesture with his hands. ‘Been
through all this with Dr Michaels. Every option. But it’s a bastard
of a disease, Jem, because once the hearing’s gone there’s nothing
to be done.’ He gave a dark smile. ‘And, believe it or not, I’m
luckier than a lot of sufferers because all the work with the band,
being on stage and having to communicate over the music – I learned
to lip read a long time ago. Dr Michaels wanted me to learn to sign
but that’s a fast-track to living a completely separate life.
Everyone knowing. I wanted … I wanted to pretend I could still
hear.’ He shook his head. ‘Shit. Thought I’d done all my crying.
Sorry.’

‘
Hey. Don’t be sorry. It’s … I don’t even know what it is.
Terrible. Awful.’ I didn’t know what else to say.

‘
You want to know what it really is, Jem?
It’s loneliness. It’s being treated as stupid or rude, it’s not
understanding. And Christ, the
dark
–’

‘
Dark?’

‘
When it’s night, when I can’t see … that’s when I really know
I’m deaf.’ He tried to draw in a breath. I heard it stutter past
the tears still in his throat. ‘Right. So now you feel sorry for
me. Great. I need a friend, what I get is a pity partner.’ He
dropped his head onto his knees and curled his arms around it,
turning himself into a ball, blocking me out. Crying
silently.

I
left him to let it out. Made two mugs of strong coffee, listening
to the rain that had begun pounding down on the outside of the
cottage. The little kitchen had been gloomy to start with, now it
was like midnight and the rapidly cooling air had dropped the
temperature down beyond comfortable.

I
took a mug to Ben. Touched his shoulder. ‘Hey. Drink this then put
something on. You’re going to freeze.’

He
was watching my mouth. I could see that now. ‘Christ, I’m sorry.
Jem, I’m so, so sorry. This isn’t your problem, it’s not your
fight. All I ask is that you don’t tell anyone else.
Please.’

‘
Ben.’ I dropped to sit cross-legged in front of him. ‘You
need to tell Zafe.’

‘
How
? For God’s
sake, how do I tell him something like this?’

‘
The
same way you told me. He deserves to know. At least so he can move
forward with reforming the band or whatever. He really cares about
you, you know.’

A
pale smile. ‘Thanks, Oprah.’ Another huge, sighing breath. ‘Can’t
believe I lost it like that.’

I
threw him his shirt from the table. ‘Please. You’ve got goosebumps
so big I can see them from here.’ I watched him drag the cotton
over his head, loosening his hair from the collar. ‘And, for the
record, I don’t pity you. Don’t even feel sorry for you if you want
the truth.’

An indrawn breath. ‘Okay, guess I asked
for
that
one.’

‘
I’ve – known people who’ve lost a lot more than their
hearing. And if going deaf is what it took to get you off the drugs
then that’s a fair trade from where I’m standing.’

Ben’s eyes burned through me. ‘You want to tell
me?’