He’s saying goodbye.
I sit down on the sofa, the letter held tightly in my hand. I reach inside my pocket and quickly search for the date for the summer solstice: June 21st. That’s in a week’s time.
This is it. I know where he is going to be.
I reach for the tape, opening the casing. I try to picture his hands, ink-stained and calloused, writing this list. My fingers follow the indentation of his writing on the card – each title listed, the artist then song. I bring the cardboard to my nose; there is something musty, familiar, but I can’t place it. I take outthe tape, holding its weight in my hand. He’s written on the label running across the tape: 1985 – The Year of Alice. My throat constricts, heat at the back. I have nothing I can play it on, but I do have Spotify. I open the app and go about adding all of the songs in order:
Joy Division – ‘Atmosphere’
Talk Talk – ‘It’s My Life’
The Smiths – ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’
David Bowie – ‘Ashes to Ashes’
The Cure – ‘A Forest’
Echo and The Bunnymen – ‘The Killing Moon’
Kate Bush – ‘The Man with the Child in His Eyes’
Buzzcocks – ‘Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve)’
Joy Division – ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’
Eurythmics – ‘Sweet Dreams’
I’ve never heard of half of them, but as soon as I hit play, the hairs along my arms rise. The first song is moody, a slow but soulful introduction, but despite the sombre voice, there is a sense of optimism, like the song is about change. It’s so very Mike that I can feel my whole body reacting as the music fills the space around me. It’s like he’s saying so much through this song alone. A message about not walking away in silence. The singer hums in the background, and I picture Michael doing the same… humming as he walks, hands in pockets. He’s asking for closure. Asking me not to walk away. A small laugh escapes me as I think of the eighties songs I’d been listening to. This is not Madonna. This is a whole other vibe entirely.
I pour a glass of wine, folding my legs beneath me as the next song plays. More upbeat than the first, talking about committing to life, how it never ends.
A slow smile crosses my face.
Whitby Abbey.
It’s time I met my ghost.
And this time, even though I’m afraid of what will happen when I do… I’m not going to let him disappear.
27
ALICE
I’m just packing when my phone rings, Georgia’s face flashing on the screen. The week has gone by quickly, and I’ve started making notes for the article. I’ve not heard back from Cali in Australia yet, but I’ve found a few more nostalgia sites. Spence has been working, but I know Georgia is meeting Heather today.
They’re going for lunch. A public place. Spence has said he wasn’t ready to have her in their home. Yet. He wanted to give Georgia the chance to meet her in a setting that wasn’t directly attached to safety. It’s logical. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that part of me is glad that he’s not bringing her into their lives fully. Not yet, anyway.
I swipe the screen. ‘Georgia? You OK?’ I sit down on the bed, my various outfits tried on and discarded lie around me.
‘Yeah. I mean, I guess?’ There is a pause. ‘I just… What if she doesn’t like me?’ Her voice is quiet, a shake to it.
‘Impossible. You are amazing, George. If anything, you should be thinking about whetheryoulikeher.’
‘What if I do?’
I take a breath. ‘Then that’s good, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t want me.’
