NOVEMBER 1995
Tour was supposedly meant to be one of the most romantic, enthralling experiences of a musician's life. But as Annette Meadows finished her third performance, she found herself sitting in her dressing room on her own with her head in her hands and her knees to her chest. The show was brilliant. According to critic reviews in The Sun, her performance in Italy was 'out of this world' and 'just like her song, she's worldwide'.
Annette wasn't particularly vocal when it came to her feelings, as she always delved into that part of her mind through song. Even her brother could barely understand what was going in the crazy mind of hers. Sometimes he wanted to peel away her scalp, grab a scalpel, and cut through each thought, cut through each emotion and find the truth.
"Great show. Even better that Italy. I think being in your home country must have given you some extra luck because that was fantastic." Mike entered the dressing room with a huge grin on his tiny face. His pearly white teeth glowed under the dim lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A half-drunk bottle of wine was on the counter. Annette was sat on the lilac, soft chair with eyes on the floor and her layered hair falling perfectly over her face. She was a beautiful nightmare; almost Dracula-like with her puffy eyes, sharp teeth, and a droplet of red wine in the corner of her mouth.
Mike came towards her with anxious steps. He could hear the echoes of his boots crashing against the ground and wondered if the poor girl was even awake. He somehow had the most terrifying thought that she was dead; that possibly everything got too much for her and she just-
"Mike?" She slurred, her words too heavy for her mouth. She could almost feel herself being pulled into the ground and she kind of wanted to be swallowed whole by the linoleum floor.
"There's someone here to see you," Mike said after a moment. "But, I can shoo him out if you want? You could use a good night's sleep. I'll call a taxi?"
"Who is it?" She yawned and dragged her body up from the seat, picking up her coat. She slid her hands through the sleeves as she took another swig of wine.
Mike took the bottle from her hands with a stern look on his face. He always saw Annette in her worst state and wondered whether this tour was doing her any good. On stage, she was a force to be reckoned with, but in that room with her head slung down and her eyebags prominent, she just looked like a young girl drowning in the stress of life.
He finally said, "Damon Albarn. I don't know why he's here. I'll tell him to leave..."
Annette grabbed his arm and gave him a playful punch. "I'm fine. I can talk to him."
"You sure?"
"Yep."
The door opened with a screeching sound. It definitely hadn't been oiled in months. There, with flowers in his hands and a smile, was Damon Albarn. She hadn't seen him in a month, since their little walk in the caravan park. She had decided to not go to the after-party, seeing as she was tired out of her mind, but she gave him a short call to ask him about his day. It was most definitely not an excuse to hear the comforting tone of his voice and his warm chuckle and his incoherent murmurs. She had better things to do than to visualise what his room looked like or how messy his hair was after a long day. Those thoughts never crossed her mind.
Light from the corridor seeped in, along with that annoyingly beautiful face. His hair had been swept to the side by the cool winter wind. He tugged his jacket close to his chest and clutched onto the bouquet of blue flowers in his hand in an attempt to warm himself up.
Mike left the room with a perplexed expression.
"'Ello," Annette said. "I didn't expect you'd be here. Did you watch the show?"
"Yes," He paused. "Look, I know you've already had like a million compliments thrown in your direction, but that was one of the best shows I've ever seen. You're fucking great." Damon passed her the flowers with a glint of a sheepish grin.
Annette didn't know whether to shake his hand or hug him; she couldn't think straight. The alcohol was affecting her senses, and so was the young man before her.
She went for the second option; taking the flowers from him, then pressing herself against his chest. As they held each other close, the earthy scent that emanated from him struck her. The fragrance was complex, like a forest. There was a hint of damp earth and mingled with it was the scent of pine trees. It brought her back to the days she'd play hide-and-seek in the local park. She felt safe in his arms. It was if somehow their bodies fit together. Finally, after a while, he put his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder.
Damon didn't expect that she was going to hug him. He thought that she'd thank him for the flowers, then tell him to 'fuck off'. He wasn't complaining. He enjoyed being close to her for some reason. He enjoyed hearing the steady beats of her heart and the slow breaths escaping her lips. He questioned if she'd just nod off there and then. She seemed to enjoy being pressed against his chest, snuggling close like a kitten. He didn't dare touch her hair or attempt to wrap his hands around the nape of her neck. It was nice like that; with the puffs of her coat and the warmth of her chest.
They were clung onto to each other for a solid 20 seconds, Annette had realised, then she pulled away. She didn't want him to think that she liked him. She didn't want him to have that stupid satisfaction that boys get when they find out a girl likes them. She didn't want him to break her heart, either. It was now official that he was dating Justine Frischmann. Annette had been pretending that it wasn't true or that she'd read the stupid Select article in a dream. But, it was real and it hurt.
"I'm sorry," she said after she composed herself. "That was dumb. I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Look, if you hadn't had hugged me, I would've hugged you first. We haven't seen each other in ages and you're my mate, alright?" The word 'mate' didn't sit right on his tongue. He swallowed the thought down.
"Yeah, yeah. 'Course," she muttered. "I'm so glad you came. I swear I saw you in the audience but kept trying to tell myself that I was hallucinating."
"I was there. Singing my heart out. You must've heard me."
"Were you the one who started screaming out of nowhere? I thought a baby had been stepped on."
"That was me. I'm hoping when the video gets put on TV, you'll be able to hear my beautiful screams once again. It was brilliant, right?"
"Better than brilliant." She winked. "Honestly, I was going to throw my microphone at whoever was screaming so you should be glad I didn't find the culprit or you'd have a microphone shaped dent in your head."
"Nice." He laughed, and that low, hearty sound echoed through her bones.
"Tell me why you're here. Like, why the effort? I thought you were doing shows up in Scotland?"
Damon pondered the question. "Well, one, I wanted to see you. Two, I wanted to ask you about something that's been keeping me up at night."
It felt nice that he came to see her. Annette kind of wanted to hug him again and smell that wooden aroma fastened on his clothes.
"Is this going to be some crazy deep stuff... If so, I'm too tired and drunk for that."
"No. It's not that."
Annette kept her mouth closed to prepare for whatever he had to say next. Damon felt like she was looking at him as if he'd come back from the dead or as if he was the Messiah.
"So, the band and I have been thinking about having you with us on stage for our next show. Maybe just one song or two. Fans have been asking us for ages if we'd ever collaborate with you. I keep saying it's a bad idea because you're sort of a pacifist in the 'britpop war'. If you started taking sides, then it could end badly for you. Graham had an idea that you could perform one or two songs with us, then the same amount Oasis. Then you wouldn't be on one side, you'd be on both. It's just the case on whether Oasis is up for it. Liam Gallagher was very vocal about his opinion of you. He's a total dick."
Annette was wide-eyed, slack-jawed and unsure where her voice had gone. Now, she was definitely going to combust. The fire extinguisher suddenly looked very appealing.
"I just realised how crazy that sounds," Damon admitted, instantly regretting his monologue. "Maybe I should come back another day when you're in the right state of mind."
"No... It's fine... It's just..." A lightbulb clicked in her mind and her thoughts started to flow cohesively. "That's a dream come true. When and where?"
"On Christmas Eve in Wembley. It's going to be huge." He cast his mind back to the looks of elation on the rest of the band's faces when they were told about the venue. They had all started practicing like crazy; trying to perfect every note and beat.
"God." She took a deep breath. Just the thought of a crowd that big singing with her was out of this world. She could imagine the feel of standing on that stage and hearing her voice reverberate through the stadium. There was nothing better than that.
"We thought we could do either 'For Tomorrow', 'The Universal' or both. Add some harmonies. Split up the vocal parts." He took her through his thought process. "I don't know what you'll do with Oasis, but they'll probably come find you at some point. I'm just hoping it will be Noel that talks to you, not Liam. That could be stressful."
"Yes, very." She remembered when she sat down at the Paris show when the whole band seemed furious at her. There was a pretty high probability that they wanted no involvement with her at all. She then thought about the songs that Damon had mentioned. "Those would be amazing to sing together. Wow, I just need to process this."
"I'll give you the rest of the week to decide. Just call me whenever you're ready." He stood up a little taller in preparation to leave. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, okay? I don't want you to feel like you're getting forced into anything. You've already got a lot on your plate."
Annette smiled. He cared about her. God, it was the bare minimum, but he had a vice grip on her heart that was getting tighter with each passing second.
"It was nice to see you again," Annette said, picking up the blue-tinted flowers and giving them a whiff. Their smell wafted through the air, as if enveloping her in a warm embrace. "Thank you for the flowers and for telling me this. I can't actually believe it... Mike's gonna think that I made it up."
He put his hand on the doorknob, clutching it tightly to refrain himself from hugging her again. He had a girlfriend. This whole thing was just idiotic.
"I'm glad I came. See you soon," he said as he left. He picked up the black, soaked umbrella from outside the room and began walking down the corridor. The shifting of his coat as he moved continued sounding until he'd reached the last step of the winding staircase.
She watched as he disappeared. Then she was alone again, with her knees against her chest like he'd never even been there at all. Maybe the alcohol was actually making her delirious, and he was someone that her mind had created to make her feel better. But, then Mike opened the door and the first words he said were: "You're going to sing in fucking Wembley with Blur and Oasis."
Maybe she wasn't imagining it.
I actually rewrote this chapter about 3 times because it wasn't really working out how I'd planned. The next chapter will have more stuff with the rest of the band so be prepared :)