I dunno, Charlie. I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants guy when it comes to it,’ he says, then turns towards me again, leaning on his elbow on top of his half of the pillow. ‘I used to think I was going to be a real-life rock star, and I’d some really good opportunities that got me close, but I bailed out. I messed it up, so now I like to just go with the flow and see where it takes me. Right now, I’m bluffing around in some real estate but it’s not for me at all.’
‘Real estate?’ I say, laughing at the contrast of it all. ‘I can’t imagine you in a shirt and tie showing people round fancy houses.’
He sits up straight and puts on his best poker face, then laughs in return.
‘You know, it pays the bills for now, so I count myself lucky, I suppose.’
So, he messed it up. I’ve a feeling my brother could tell me exactly how if he wanted to, but he never did.
‘Tell me more about you, Charlie girl.’
He pushes my hair back and his eyes dart around my face. He has such a handsome face.
I shake my head. ‘You really aren’t going to drop that name, are you?’
He looks so blasé. ‘Why should I? It suits you. Charlotte is too posh.’
I raise an eyebrow. ‘And you think I’m not posh?’
‘Are you posh?’ he laughs.
‘No way,’ I say to him. ‘But posh girls can be fun too, you know.’
He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me closer into the heat of his body. ‘I’ve a feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun, Charlie,’ he says with a wink, pulling the duvet up over us again. ‘So, go on. Tell me more about what you’ve been up to since I first fell for you and life got in the way.’
I take a deep breath. He fell for me? Although I’d always hoped he had, I never thought I’d hear it directly from him.
‘Well, I’m a big twenty-seven years old now,’ I say, getting the formalities out of the way. ‘I’ve been a brunette and a redhead since I saw you last and even a shade of purple but I got rid of that quickly. And then back to blonde.’
Now he raises an eyebrow. ‘I’d never have guessed, my little chameleon.’
I suppose that’s one way of describing my eclectic taste in fashion. My father would describe it in a totally different way, telling me some days I’m like a walking charity shop or a love child between Russell Brand and Mrs Merton.
‘As well as teaching in a lovely primary school where the kids are ace, I’ve been working the very odd shift when I can get it in Music City, a singer-songwriter-type cabaret club for about a year now, so I do sing stuff other than nursery rhymes when I get the chance,’ I tell him.
‘You’ve done really well for yourself so far,’ he says. ‘Is it a permanent post at the school?’
I nod and can’t help but smile with pride.
‘It’s just been confirmed. They want to keep me,’ I tell him, and he holds up a hand for a high five. Everyone knows it’s almost impossible to find a full-time permanent teaching post in Dublin, so it is something I’m very, very proud of. ‘But before I became Miss Taylor, teacher of dreams, I’d some adventures in Australia which was fun. My sister met her husband there – while I met a lot of real-life snakes, you could say. I think that’s about it.’
He looks impressed that I’ve travelled a bit, but what he doesn’t know is that he, or at least the idea of him, came with me every step of the way.
‘And Matthew?’ he asks, unable to look me in the eye when he mentions my brother’s name. ‘What’s he up to these days?’
My stomach flips. I suppose we should just get this part over and done with.
‘He’s living back at home with my parents,’ I tell him, feeling my brow break into a frown at the thought of what has become of Matthew. ‘They’re looking after him as well as they can, but it’s been hard on everyone. It’s been so hard on us all watching him lose interest in everything he worked so hard for.’
Tom lets out a deep sigh that sounds a lot like regret.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ he says.
It’s not Tom’s fault. It’s no one’s fault that this darkness has got such a grasp of my once so flamboyant big brother who was always bursting with life and energy, convinced that the sky was the limit when it came to chasing his dreams.
‘He’s got a job in the little corner shop, which takes his mind off his troubles a little,’ I continue. ‘Not exactly the architect or big star he dreamed of becoming, but it gives him a purpose and that’s what we all need, isn’t it? We need something to get out of bed for in the morning.’
I draw imaginary circles on his arm as I speak.
‘Are your parents still living further up north?’ Tom’s face reflects mine as he looks back at me with such a sense of pity. I remember hearing how he visited my home once with Matthew, and of how my mother had rolled out the red carpet as if it was The Beatles coming to visit.
Their band, Déjà Vu, had been offered a record deal at the time with a small label in Belfast and had popped by to see our folks en route to a meeting, which to Mam and Dad was like winning the lottery.
‘Yes, they’re still up in the little village we grew up in, which suits him, away from the city and all his reasons for giving up on everything,’ I tell Tom. Whatever happened between you guys, it shook him. I don’t think he ever got over it.’
Tom wears a deep frown and pinches his eyes.
‘How much do you know, Charlie?’ he asks me. ‘What did Tom tell you about why we all broke up?
They’d been going so well. Marketing plans were being discussed, recording studios lined up, even a fairly decent local tour all backed up by a label who believed in them and were just about to sign them up, but suddenly it was all over. It all went pear-shaped so quickly.
I lean up on one elbow now, mirroring him and take his hand from his face, holding it for reassurance.
‘He told us nothing more than the band broke up and it broke his heart,’ I say to Tom. ‘He wouldn’t say why, but I’m sure it wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular, was it?’
I say I’m sure, but then what would I know? Tom, on the other hand, doesn’t look so sure.
‘He just told me that bands break up, people break up. It happens,’ I continue. ‘He never wanted to tell me anything more than that, so I respected that. He’d put so much time and energy into the band and the break-up just rocked his whole world.’
Tom looks like he wants to say so much more but I put my finger on his lips.
‘Listen, Tom. My brother, as much as I adore him,’ I say, ‘can be very stubborn when he doesn’t get his own way, so you don’t need to tell me any more if you don’t want to. In fact, can we please talk about anything other than Matthew, just for
