𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. ⁽⁽⁽ᵐᵃᵗᵗʸ ʰᵉᵃˡʸ⁾⁾⁾

Berlin.

(Ulrika Spacek - Ultra Vivid)

I Think There's Something You Should Know

PART THREE.

Helen loved Paris, but I adored Berlin. I told her I thought this said something about our sensibilities, to which she replied I was talking nonsense and obviously didn't appreciate Romanticism.

We had a day off every two or three gigs since deciding with Kate that we would prefer to leave earlier, sacrifice an evening out, and instead arrive in each city with sufficient time to walk around and play the shameless tourists. I loved gigging in Europe, testing out my pathetic phrasebook French or Italian on our poor unsuspecting fans, of which there were a few in each city alongside the musos, the hipsters and the kids out for a decent Wednesday night. They were kind with us though, correcting my terrible grammar and excitedly engaging in tentative conversation. We didn't sell out many venues, only Paris, Amsterdam and Milan, but they were the best ones to sell out, the most iconic. I figured I could survive seeing some empty space in Madrid if the enthusiasm was there, which it usually was in spades.

Helen experimented with her stage wardrobe every night, trying out things in a low stakes environment that she wouldn't have dared to back home. In Amsterdam, she bought a couture piece off a student designer, and we all sat around in the green room of Melkweg getting deeply stoned before playing a set that thrummed with chaotic energy. The weed didn't damage our performance - far from it in fact. The performance was instinctive, the rhythms were practically physical. I watched Helen closely with my lips pressed to the mic, weaving back and forth, turning to Ethan and sharing the goggle-eyed expression of euphoria on our faces.

That night we stayed in a positively ancient hotel where Kate had bagged a deal for the room, a classic Dutch townhouse with perilously narrow staircases and floorboards. After navigating our way up to our rooms, I sat next to Helen on her bed, sipping greedily on the bottle of wine that we had brought back from the green room as we assessed our current situation.

'This is our best tour so far, easily,' I grinned at her, giddy on the night's success. 'And not even in terms of the shows, I just feel...'

'You're more confident. We both are. I know I don't show it much, but I get jittery like you sometimes,' she admitted. 'What do you think changed that?'

'Time, I suppose. And being accustomed to it. The novelty of new experiences is great but I think it always comes with insecurity. I feel secure now, in comparison.'

'Good...' she mused, 'I wish I did.'

'What?' I blinked, turning my neck to look at her straight on. 'Why? Do you feel insecure onstage?'

'No, not really. But sometimes I talk to the guys,' - referencing Lewis and Jay, and possibly Leon - 'and I feel the imposter syndrome creeping back.' She paused. 'Do you ever second-guess why we get attention? Do you ever wonder if it's mainly because we're objectively cute girls?'

I chewed my lip as I thought my response over, slightly surprised to hear these words from Helen. 'You know what? I do wonder that - or at least I did, and then I realised I didn't care too much either way. We know our music deserves the hype,' I smirked. 'So whatever people's personal reasons are for supporting us or giving us a platform, we're able to just snatch that opportunity and run with it anyway. The imposter syndrome can be twisted into an advantage, and besides, you're one of the best musicians I know. Lewis might think he's all that but you're a better guitarist. Honest.'

'Maybe just... say that in his vicinity so I can see the look of acceptance on his face,' she snorted. I squeezed her arm.

'Can't believe we're here sometimes.'

'I know,' she replied quietly. 'Blows my mind a bit when I think about what we were doing three, four years ago.'

'Do you ever miss uni?'

'I did at first, when it seemed like a better time. I fucking hate office jobs.' She was referencing her day job from the time we were still knackering ourselves to get gigs, a dreary admin thing that forced her to wear a pencil skirt, an item she'd sworn off ever since. I got off slightly better, landing a job assisting a researcher in the history department I'd just graduated from - also slightly dreary, but at least I could wear whatever I wanted in the British Library reading rooms. We both managed to quit just a couple of months before Dean signed on as our manager, and moulded our amateur operation into something resembling London's new hype band. 'I reckon you liked history more than I liked PPE though.'

'It's funny... I don't even know if I've started paying student loans back. That doesn't really factor into our lives any more, does it?'

Helen agreed, it seemed incongruous. My phone lit up on the desk on the other side of the room, vibrating insistently, and I got up to take a look, embarrassed at the tiny surge of adrenaline that made me slightly light-headed.

'Hey,' I answered warmly. 'You alright? It's pretty late.' I made eye contact with Helen who mouthed Matty? and I nodded.

'Jo, how was your show? You're in Holland, right?' His voice was thick with fatigue, in a way that suggested he'd been overusing it. He was in Australia now, I knew, but I'd forgotten the city; the connection was surprisingly clear considering our distance.

'Yeah, Amsterdam. I like the Dutch. They give a good reception.' I grabbed the chair in front of the dressing table and sat facing Helen, who watched absent-mindedly as I talked into the phone, taking little swigs of wine from the bottle every now and then. 'How are they treating you down under?'

'Well enough. It's not too hot, thank god, but I can't shake off the jet lag.'

'Hang on, isn't it like... six in the morning? Matty, have you slept at all?'

'On and off. That's why I called, when I worked out the time difference,' he said simply, as if this explained everything.

I laughed uncertainly. 'What should I do, sing you to sleep or something?'

'I just wanted to see how you were. I'd rather hear your voice than keep tossing and turning.'

Playing a show almost every night created a brain buzz that was difficult to quiet, I knew. 'That's alright. I'm glad you called, it's good to hear from you.' I knew my smile was filtering through my voice. My gaze flickered up to meet Helen's. I jerked my head towards the door, mouthing 'Night,' and she nodded in understanding.

Once back in my own room, I shut the door carefully with a click and curled up on my own bed. 'Just went back to my room, there's no-one else here now.'

'You'd like it out here, you know,' Matty rambled. 'It would be fun if you were here, a bit less... monotonous. If you were offered a support slot, are you sure you wouldn't take it?' He sounded hopeful.

'Probably better to keep our careers separate, remember?' I reminded him.

'Yeah, yeah, I know.' He paused, and I heard him sigh on the end of the line. There was quite clearly a lot left unsaid, and even though the silence was companionable, my chest hurt with the pressure of everything I repressed. I miss you. I wish you were closer. He had called up with no apparent purpose, and our conversation was directionless, but comforting just for the connection it provided, beamed up and down through the atmosphere by some distant satellite.

'What's your hotel room like? Describe it to me. I bet you've got some cushy place.'

'Beige... so fucking beige. Wall art is a solid seven out of ten, not as bad as your average Travelodge curation. Bed is annoyingly comfy because no matter how much I feel like I'm sinking into it, my eyes just won't stay closed. Fancy lights under the mirror in the bathroom.'

'Mini bar?'

'Yeah, nothing that I've touched though. Coffee, some bougie hot chocolate.'

'Make the hot chocolate. Even if you don't sleep, it's like, I don't know... a hug from the inside.'

'That turn of phrase makes my stomach churn a bit,' Matty snorted, a gentle laugh lightening his despondent tone. 'But okay.' A creak of bed springs echoed down the phone as he got up, followed by rushing water. 'Boiling the kettle. I'm just gonna narrate this shit unless you have anything better to do.'

'Nothing.' I lay horizontal, the phone nestled between my ear and the pillow, and stared out of the window, the curtains flung open. The Amsterdam sky was a rich, inky blue, a few stars visible despite the light pollution. This was one of those rare moments, I knew, when everything and every part of me was at peace.

***

Helen's abrupt knock on my door roused me the next morning, the rude awakening reinforced by her entrance after barely bothering to wait for an answer.

'Rise and shine, honey bun. We're going straight to Berlin. It's a long trek.' She whistled under her breath. 'Well, someone forgot to get changed...'

I pushed myself upright with a groan, realising I was still on top of the sheets and not underneath them. 'Fuck... not even pyjamas?'

'Your phone is imprinted into your cheek. Cute. Why doesn't he just Facetime? At least then you can see when the other person's dropping off.'

'Shit.' My phone was dead, and I couldn't remember the end of mine and Matty's conversation. I plugged it in to charge and went to the ensuite to freshen up, whilst Helen followed me.

'Has he been in contact a lot then?'

'A fair bit,' I mumbled, bending over the sink and concentrating on lathering up my face to get off any residual grime from last night.

'More than usual then.' She made a pretence of being nosy, pulling products out of my wash bag and trying them on the back of her hand. It was times like this she would say something disarmingly incisive. 'Would you say you're best mates?'

I flushed, even though it was only Helen asking. 'He's never called me that, but I'd be flattered if we were.'

'Should be the other way round, Jo. He should be flattered you're his best mate. He certainly treats you as such.' She cocked her head sideways, studying my reflection in the mirror as I pulled a brush through my hair. 'Is it entirely platonic?'

'Now it is, yes. That's the way it started, and it worked well back then,' I shrugged.

Her eyebrows raised, and stayed there. 'Would you still go there?'

I paused, taking a deep breath. Oh what the hell, Helen wouldn't rat me out. We told each other practically everything. 'Yes and no. Yes as in I might want to, but no, logic and experience tells me it's a terrible idea.'

She grinned devilishly, and true: it was faintly comical. 'God, I don't envy you.'

The drive to Berlin seemed to last forever, but the tour bus we shared with the support band had enough room to lie horizontal. It had been an extravagant hire, perhaps, since we weren't staying in it overnight, but once we split the costs and worked out the tour would mean we broke even, it seemed to be worth it in the long run - no aching necks, plus all the promo the tour itself would get us. I told Kate we didn't mind. We'd already lugged our equipment all over Britain on trains and in the cramped backseats of cars in recent years. This was a deal I was willing to strike.

Once my phone was powered up again, a couple of messages came through the ether.

you fell asleep on me HA

don't worry though! and the hot chocolate helped, thanks

have a blast in germany x

I thought wistfully about how nice it would be to actually fall asleep on him. The warm skin of his shoulder, my head cradled there, and when I glanced up, his perfect, pensive face and the sweet creasing of his eyes in a smile. It felt ludicrous to reminisce like this, but the memory was still so vivid. I hadn't allowed these thoughts in quite a while, and entertaining them felt dangerous, though slightly less so when we were on opposite sides of the planet. It was so easy to play along in the studio, I was a good actor there. But on tour, in my own head, there was no point faking it to myself.

After a lunch stop and a couple of smoke breaks (we'd picked up some excellent weed after last night's show), we reached Berlin in the late afternoon, though there were still a few hours of sun left in the day. Our hotel there wasn't quite as classy, but the bed was still comfortable, and there was a lavish Chinese restaurant just across the road, so we all spent the evening there, raucously letting off steam after the cramped journey. I felt bad for the other diners, but what harm was some drunken laughter and jokes cracked in a language many of them might not fully understand?

I didn't get a call that night, but I still sat up late in bed scrolling aimlessly on my phone. I sent Matty a link to a surreal documentary on hackers from the nineties.

for your insomnia

i'm sure an insomnia cure is meant to be boring to lull me to sleep??

oh i see...

would you rather watch something about Victorian sewage systems then

point taken, no complaints

i actually got four hours last night, but i'll try to drop off on the plane to Melb

managed to get some time off today...

After this came a barrage of pictures that seemed to have been taken inside a gallery, and then a five second clip of Matty fake snoring into his pillow. 'Idiot,' I smiled to myself. A text came through from Helen, even though she was only in the next room.

up bright and early tomorrow yeah??? i want to find white eyeliner

why the fuck do you want that

it makes your eyes pop in photos

we have a shoot remember

I groaned internally; I'd forgotten about it. A German music publication wanted us in a studio for the full works, which I knew I should be grateful for, since the photos that kept getting reused were Nia's shots for Noisey, a few from our festival sets, and the slightly wild-eyed NME shot from Heaven. I didn't like the latter, half out of vanity and half because of the memories it dredged up. At least this time Helen and I were together, and able to bounce off each other's energy.

Berlin, and the venue, thrummed with a dark, excitable potential. I didn't mind that this one wasn't sold out, since it was flattering to be booked to play such a big room in the first place. Our agent had done extremely well.

Matty seemed bored. Bar the couple of hours he was onstage or soundchecking, he was always online, sending me videos, voice notes, engaging me in a back and forth. I felt bad being anti-social, but Helen only wiggled her eyebrows at me and went off to drink with Ethan and Kate. Normally I might have left the messages until last thing in the evening to respond, but something told me now was not the time to play casual.

My suspicions were confirmed when I got back to the hotel, my phone ringing shrilly as I was in the middle of taking my makeup off. I kept it on speakerphone as I rinsed my face in the sink.

'Hello?'

'Jo. Can I... I'm sorry, is this a good time?' His voice cracked slightly, and something in my chest dropped.

'Of course - Matty, what's up?'

'I don't even - can't even put it into words - fuck. This sounds dumb as shit.'

'Stop,' I said firmly, though it was a miracle the shakes didn't come through in my voice. I pressed a towel to my face and brought the phone up to my ear. 'It doesn't. Nothing you've said to me has ever been dumb. I'm listening.'

'It's just... I'm sorry, I haven't slept and I'm going stir crazy. I can't deal with this. I feel like such a fucking conman.'

'Why?'

'They all stare up at me, night after night, like I'm Jesus or something, and it's pure - I know it is, I don't blame them - but I'm not enough, I can't be some fucking... leader or some shit. I can't tell people how to think, I'm not a politician or a priest or whatever.'

'I know.' I didn't though, not really. I couldn't without facing ten thousand people on a regular basis. And he knew that too, but still, I hoped it was a comfort to hear.

'And they see the best bits of me, you know? I give only the best version of myself, and claim that it's honesty. And then what I'm left with, when I'm on my own, is the gruesome, sad shit, the complete opposite of anything admirable. It weighs heavier because it's private, because it has to be.'

Think, Jo, what to say. 'Matty... are you in your room?'

'No, I'm just... walking. I don't know where I am, but it's quiet. I can't stand it, actually.'

Now this I did know - the violent discrepancy between the intoxicating, deafening high of performing and the hollow isolation of a hotel room. 'Okay - it's alright, I'm here. Well... as much as I can be.' I couldn't think of anything more useful to say apart from affirming my presence.

'Thank you,' he sighed, his own voice wobbling. I was taken aback at the intensity of my concern. 'It's more than you realise, you know. There isn't anyone else I can speak to, right now.'

'If I was there with you, we'd go and find some greasy late night burger place,' I rambled, talking instinctively.. 'And we'd talk about Flying Nun records, and our teenage years, and how weird some teachers were, and get nostalgic over old technology and first instruments.'

'We would,' he breathed. It seemed to be working.

'And then we'd sit on a fucking... bench by the harbour, and think about how cultural institutions get disregarded by economic ones...'

'Yes, lots of politics to stress me out.' He was chuckling now though, soft little laughs echoing down the line from thousands of miles away. 'It's a dumb postcard sentiment, I know, but honestly I do wish you were here.'

'So do I.' I smiled to myself giddily, collapsing backwards onto the bed. 'I know that I can't quite imagine what it's like, sometimes. But I guess it could help to remember that you've been doing it for so long? And coped so well. Sometimes to be selfish and take care of yourself, distracting yourself is totally justified.'

'Coped? I never coped. Not really. You know... I've told you.'

'But you're still here,' I said, more fiercely than I intended. 'That's a win, as far as I'm concerned. If you really hadn't coped, you wouldn't be on tour right now. Just think, I might never have met you.'

'Perish the thought.' He still sounded uncertain, but steadier than before.

'And when you talk about the gruesome, sad shit, that's not enough to make me drop you. Or anyone who really knows you, for that matter. You're not split down the middle. You're a whole person who does incredible things and feels awful emotions sometimes.' That sounded blunter than I intended, and I tried to elaborate. 'That is, it's not wrong or deceitful to feel that way. It just sucks for you, and bit by bit the balance will be struck, with time and care and all that.'

There was a pause before Matty spoke. 'That's it, really. In a nutshell. God, I need more therapy.'

I suppressed a small laugh. 'Yeah, don't rely on this amateur. I'm sure I don't have the first idea what I'm talking about.'

'Oh, but you do. You know me, you know how I work. That's enough, even before you factor in your crazy life right now, which has got to help you understand too.'

'I don't underestimate how hard it must be. I don't desire that same level of, like... achievement, exposure, whatever. Nobody can escape that unscathed but you're doing better than most. You're still an authentic person.'

Matty took a deep breath; I heard his deep inhale and exhale from far away. 'The air smells good here. I hadn't noticed.'

'Lucky. Smells like shit on this street. Like a Berghain toilet.'

'I've never been.'

'We'll have to go sometime. You'd get in, you freak.'

I hugged myself tightly, listening to German sirens and screeching cats and the tinny but distinct intonation of Matty's voice in my ear.

'Fuck, you must be tired.'

'I'm alright. I feel sorry for your phone bill.'

'It's worth it for the peace of mind. Any final tips?'

'Talk radio, podcasts, any of that stuff...'

We signed off reluctantly when I remembered I had to be up at six for our journey to Hamburg. Ironically, I was the one who couldn't sleep now, instead lying flat on my back watching a spider slowly make its way across the low ceiling, extending its spindly legs in exploration.

Everyone liked to feel needed, that was a given. But the warm glow I received after Matty's call tore my heart and my logic in different directions, and not for the first time. He had said he felt there was nobody else he could speak to... what did that make me, to him? This also attested to the possibility that he was single again, or otherwise not involved in anything serious. I felt singled out, and special, and I liked it. I shouldn't be so glad. I knew underneath everything why I was so glad.

The next morning, I woke to find a message that made me feel like a balloon was slowly inflating behind my ribcage.

come out to the country in the autumn? stay with us at the studio there. it'll be quality time - like a holiday!!

only if i can bring my dog

DEAL.