‘What?’ Billy asked, raising the guitar again.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Play your favourite fromThe Weight of Diamonds, whichever that is.’
‘That was a shit album,’ Billy said. ‘We rushed it out becauseArgy-Bargydid so well.’
‘No, it was great,’ I protested. ‘I listened to it so much, I knew all the words by heart.
‘Nah,’ Billy said. ‘I hate that album. Choose something else.’
‘OK, “Where Did You Go?” then,’ I said. ‘FromArgy-Bargy. I loved that song.’
Billy sighed deeply and then started to strum. ‘You sing, though,’ he said. ‘Seeing as you know it so well.’
I laughed, and my laughter was enough to make him remember.
‘Christ,’ he said, without interrupting his strumming. ‘I forgot. I didn’t believe you couldn’t sing, did I?’
I shook my head and grinned at him.
‘But you were right,’ he said.
‘Oh yes,’ I agreed.
He smiled for a moment, lost in the memory, and then when his strumming came round to the right point he began to sing.
Where did you go?
Why did you leave me?…
The recorded version had been a rock-influenced pop song, but once again, with just his voice and the guitar, it was a revelation. It made the whole thing so soulful that tears sprang to my eyes instantly.
…I thought it was love
Where the fuck are you, Phoebe?
I jolted out of my trance and looked up at him with a frown. I raised one hand to interrupt him but he was too busy fingering chords to notice, so I spoke. ‘Phoebe?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Billy asked, pausing his playing and looking up.
‘Phoebe? Did you sayPhoebe?’
‘Yeah.’
‘God, I always thought it was “Free Me”,’ I said. ‘“Where the fuck are you? / Free me!”’
Billy laughed. ‘Free me would be OK too,’ he said. ‘It’s actually quite nice.’
‘But it’s supposed to bePhoebe? I mean, it wasPhoebeall along?’
Billy nodded and turned to hang the guitar back on the wall. ‘She was Jake’s girlfriend,’ he said.
‘Jake the drummer?’
He nodded again. ‘Phoebe fucked off while we were on tour in France and he never saw her again. I’m not sure if he ever found out what had happened to her. We used to wonder if someone had abducted her or something.’
‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘I was so certain I knew the words.’
‘The joys of the misheard lyric,’ Billy said. ‘You know, Gandhi – my youngest – used to sing “We built this city on sausage rolls” whenever that came on the radio?’
