Chapter 21 #10
I know now that what went on between Cam and me played no part in my ectopic pregnancy, and the logical part of my brain probably knew it back then, but I felt like I needed to be punished.
So, I selfishly withdrew, went through a bit of a manic spell, and left my husband to deal with his grief alone.
Except when he was with Carla.
Sticking his dick down the back of her throat.
And letting her put her hands down his pants.
Anyway, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? The shitty things me and Sean did to each other… did we do them to each other, or to ourselves?
Whatever the answer, we fucked up, but those fuck-ups didn’t detract from our love.
“We both fell apart. Sean especially, and I wasn’t there for him.
I wasn’t mentally present enough to deal with my own grief as well as his.
I think I stayed with my parents for a couple of months, and it took him coming to me and reminding me he’d lost a baby, too, it didn’t just happen to me, it happened to us, for me to wake up to myself.
We cried, then went away for some alone time, got our shit together, came home, and decided to try again. ”
“Your foundation supports a lot of child loss charities. Is this why?” Daniel asks.
“Well, not just Baby M. I lost two children remember. Beau was full term when I lost him, and Cam lost a son at full term, too. So, yeah, it is something that’s close to our hearts, and the reason why we set up Butterfly Kisses.
The charity supports families who’ve experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or whose unborn babies have been given a terminal diagnosis.
Our charity offers financial support so parents can take time to grieve, as well as emotional, psychological support, and counselling. ”
“There’s a lot of support there for fathers,” Cam says. “It wasn’t until we shared our experiences, me and Georgia, that we realised there wasn’t a lot of support out there for men, for fathers, grandfathers, uncles, or any other family member impacted. Blokes don’t tend to share.”
“Oh, they definitely do in this family,” George, our youngest son corrects, causing a ripple of laughter throughout the room.
“And you think that’s a bad thing?” Cam asks.
“Sometimes,” George replies. “Like, I don’t actually need to know how heavy my sister’s period is, when it’s due, or anything like that.”
“Oh, grow the fuck up,” Lu snaps at her brother. “It’s not like I go out of my way to tell you. You’re just there when I tell Mum or Kiks. It’s just a normal bodily function… if you’re a woman.”
“Not for me.” I put my hand up. “Language, Lu. And, yeah, grow up, son. Anyway, we discovered there wasn’t a lot out there in the way of support for men, so we decided to do something about that.”
“Yes, the services offered are groundbreaking,” Daniel praises. “And how did you feel when you saw the headlines regarding Georgia’s loss?” He directs his question at Cam.
“Honestly, I knew nothing about it at the time. I was out of the country when they made the big announcement, and by the time I got back, it was no longer a front-page headline. I didn’t really seek out news on rock’s golden couple, if you must know. Self-flagellation’s not really my thing.”
I press my lips together and hold back a laugh as I smile at my husband’s sarcasm.
“Hearing all of this right now, for the first time in any detail, has been pretty traumatic. It wasn’t my place to be there for her, but I love her. I loved her then. I’ve never not loved her, so of course, given a choice, I would’ve been,” Cam says, confirming our unspoken conversation earlier.
“And Sean… he wrote a song, right? Isn’t “Butterfly” about your loss?”
I nod but don’t speak. It’s the only song I can’t listen to.
“It contains the line ‘with a gentle touch, like tiny fingers, butterfly kisses in our hearts will linger’,” Marley says as he pulls up his sleeve to show his little blue butterfly tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
Len, Jimmie, Ash, and lastly, I pull up our sleeves and show ours. It was the only tattoo I had, until I added two more butterflies when I was in Australia.
“The whole band got one done,” Marley says.
“We were recording a new album—our last, in fact, but we didn’t know that then—straight after everything happened.
Maca came up with the track, asked if we could add it, and we laid it down in one morning.
Then the four of us—well, it was six, actually, because Len and Milo came with us—all went and got one done. ”
I knew those lyrics were in the song, but hearing Marley say them aloud, words my then-husband wrote about the first child we lost has made my head spin.
“At this point, I was going to show more of the newspaper headlines, but you know what? Fuck ’em.
I’m not giving more airtime to that kind of negativity.
Instead, what I’m going to get production to do is add a piece about the charity, raise awareness, maybe some direct donations…
” Daniel taps his index finger against his bottom lip, obviously thinking.
“Marls, what if we put the song out as a single? Make it some kind of special edition?” Len suggests.
“Blue vinyl!” Harry calls out. “In a butterfly-shaped sleeve.”
“Kid’s a fucking genius,” Len says to Cam.
“Why d’you think I’ve got him running marketing for the clubs?” Cam replies, pride so very obvious in his tone and his smile.
God, I love my family.
“You guys blow me away,” Daniel says. “Can we use that? That little thirty-second, unscheduled brainstorm, which will likely earn your charity millions?”
“Go for it,” me, Len, and Marley say together.
“Thank you. Right, let’s move on. You and Sean are back on track, the album’s finished, but the band decide no world tour…”
“They didn’t need one,” Len interjects. “They could’ve recorded their shopping list and sold millions of copies.
We were all in our thirties, had been on the road or in a studio for what felt like fifteen years and just wanted to be home with our families.
Instead, we chose a few select venues around the world—stadiums, mostly—for maximum capacity, and spread the dates out over months, not weeks. ”
“We have some images and footage from those tour dates,” Daniel says, and the screen lights up.
The band are on stage in front of a huge crowd.
“Berlin,” Marley says loudly, pointing at the screen. “Watch Maca. Watch what he does.”
The camera is currently on Marls, standing on an amp, belting out the guitar riff to “Ordinary”, one of the band’s biggest singles from that last album. He’s shirtless, wearing black jeans, black boots, and his short, dark hair is wet with sweat.
“Far out, Rock Star,” Ashley says, fanning her face. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, you make me wanna cry. In fact, I can feel the tears running down the inside of my legs already.”
“See what I mean about the oversharing?” George calls out. “You’re basically my mother. I really don’t need to be hearing that.”
“Love you, baby,” Marley says to Ash, ignoring George.
When the camera switches to Sean, he’s walking along the edge of the stage, his leather trousers low on his hips, T-shirt tucked into his studded belt, and guitar over his back.
His arms are raised over his head as he claps, encouraging the crowd to do the same.
His hair is long, pushed back from his face and wet with sweat, which is literally dripping from every inch of his skin.
His eyes are covered with black wraparound sunglasses.
He epitomises what a rock god should look like.
Taking his guitar off, he hands it to a roadie before diving into the crowd. I always hated it when he did that. It terrified me that there might be some psycho out there who might want to hurt him.
“Watch, watch, watch!” Marley jumps up, clapping and pointing at the screen.
Instead of surfing the crowd, Sean stands. Hands reach up from everywhere, and he carefully makes his way to the middle of the mosh pit by walking above the crowd, stepping from one upturned palm to another. The entire audience, along with Marley, belts out the lyrics to the remainder of the song.
“I got an absolute bollocking from the venue’s security when he did that,” Lennon says. “Milo wasn’t too happy, either.”
“Milo’s never happy,” Marley quips.
“Aww, don’t. Mi’s lovely,” Jimmie starts.
There’s more footage of the band on and off stage. Len and Marley give a running commentary on where and when the shots were taken, along with little stories about things that happened at the time.
I take in the images, seeing the boys so happy, looking forward to spending some time at home, all of them oblivious to how precious these memories would become.
And then an image of me pops up, rising from my seat at Decadenza, water spraying from my glass into Sean’s face.
I let out a long sigh.
“Of course, you’d have these. Do you remember the bullshit stories they came up with after this?” I say to Len, leaning around Jimmie to see him.
“Which one? You were pregnant with Cam’s baby? That Sean was gay? Again, you’ll have to be more specific. There were a lot,” my brother replies.
“Who…? How are you getting hold of security footage from inside venues?” Cam asks.
“We haven’t got any of this from the venues. This is all stuff that’s out there. Our researchers just had to do a bit of digging. Maybe money was exchanged,” Daniel replies. “I know there was a lot of speculation, but do you want to talk us through what happened that day?”
“Not really.” Even to myself, I sound like a sulky kid when I reply. “But I will.”
Cam shifts beside me, because we both know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if they have that picture, then they’ve definitely got the one of him and me outside the restaurant.
I have a decision to make and decide on the spot to go with part truth, part lie.
“We bumped into Cam on our way into the restaurant.”
“So, that was another one of those two or three times you saw him over the course of those twelve years?” Daniel asks.
“Yes, right there, along with my husband. We bumped into Cam and his date on the way into the restaurant, as they were leaving,” I bite out.
“Tamara Wa—” Daniel starts.
“Nope, absolutely fucking not,” Cam cuts him off.
I deliberately left out the name of Cam’s date for Harry’s sake.
It’s public knowledge who his birth mother was.
Harry and our other kids all know. They also know how she died, right along with the rest of the world.
That doesn’t mean we want it all dragged up again, and for H to receive any unwanted publicity.
“We told you, the kids are off-limits, and mentioning Tamara has you skating on very thin ice,” Cam warns.
“Fair enough. I honestly didn’t think of the connection. I apologise,” Daniel says. “Harry, I’m truly sorry.”
I turn to look at our eldest. With long legs, broad shoulders, dark hair and eyes, he’s the absolute image of his dad. I watch as he slides his hands into the pockets of his grey jogging bottoms and shrugs.
“She’s just the woman I unfortunately share some genes with. My mum… my parents are sitting right there.” He gestures towards Cam and me with a head tilt.
“I’ll have that cut from the final—”
“Damn fucking straight you will.” Cam doesn’t even let Daniel finish.
“We’ll move on, shall we?” Daniel suggests.
“Let’s,” Jimmie says. “But first, I think maybe a drink is in order.”
“A-fuckin-men,” Ash cries.