Tender (A britpop era fiction)

The Interview (London, 2014)

"A bit more light please." 

I sit still as all the people around me hustle around, shouting commands at each other and mumbling curses under their breaths as they adjust the cameras and spotlights in the room. I've put on my calm face as I watch them, but on the inside I feel like throwing up at any given second. The interviewer seems to recognize it. He smiles at me encouraging.

"Is there anything I can get for you? A water, maybe? This could be a long talk."

"It's kind of weird you're asking me that in my own house" I laugh. "Can I give that question back? Do you want anything? A tea, maybe?"

"Thank you very much, but I'm fine." He looks at the iPad in his lap and all of a sudden it dawns to me that he must be nervous as well.

"Who have you already interviewed?" I ask. "If this series is going to be as long as you anticipate you must've gotten quite a few people to talk."

"Oh, well, some people." He laughs. "The usual suspects, one would say. Alex James was first, then it was Thom Yorke, Ian Brown of course. Last week we did our sessions with Dave Rowntree. Yesterday and the day before we met Alan McGee, the other producer did that one, was a fantastic talk. And we hope to get Graham at our schedule soon."

"I'll try to put in a word for you."

"That would be fantastic." He pauses for a moment before saying:

"We also talked to your brother."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow. "Which one?"

"Noel."

"Did you interview him?" He nods. "You were in for a treat then. If he's in a good mood, he's doing fantastic interviews."

"It was quite entertaining."

"A funny cunt, that one. Always been. Though not as hilarious as our kid." I lean towards him. "Are you going to interview him?"

"We try to arrange an appointment."

And then, ehm..." He shoots a glance at me.

"Whoever is next, you can say their name in front of me" I encourage him.

"Justine Frischmann. Visited her last week."

"Really?" I lean back and the hair dresser across the room rushes over to fix my hair again. 

"How is she?"

"Ehm, good. I suppose. Has quite a nice house."

"She always had a talent for making her home welcoming."

"It was a very interesting talk, she had quite a few stories to tell."

"Oh, of that I'm sure." He looks at me bewildered.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to -"

"Oh no, it's alright. I like Justine, I still hold her in high regardes. She was quite a figure back then you know." I loose myself on my thoughts for a moment and lean towards him then.

"Can I tell you something, before all of this?" He nods.

"Yeah, of course."

"Obviously I don't know which kind of questions you're gonna ask me later, but I want to ask you to keep in mind that not every story out there is true. Especially not those about Justine and me. I never hated her." Although I don't know if that can be said from both sides and the thought makes me more nervous than I'm willing to show. I try to breathe calmly and remember this morning, as I lay in bed next to Damon and feeling the touch of his hand on mine.

"You don't have to do this. I know you hate interviews as much as ever."

"But I want to." I turn around to him and smile. "I want to do it for your sake and for the boys."

"They all understand." Damon pulls me closer to him. "In fact Gra asked me to get you out of it."

"Did he?" I mumble slightly offended as I close my eyes and put my head on his bare chest. 

"There's enough attention already on all of this, we didn't expect it to go that big."

"Yeah. Does remember one of the good old days, doesn't it?" I sigh.

"If you would have told me back then that they will make an eight part series out of this whole Britpop nonsense I would've probably called you a lunatic."

"And here we are" I smile. "I thought long about this , darling and I really want to be a part of it. The press will make of this documentary whatever they want so what's the harm of putting some things into perspective?"

"I just don't want them to pick you apart."

"A few pathetic press idiot's pickin' me apart? Have we known each other for the last twenty years?" I give him a peck on the lips. 

"If they shall come and try to pick on me, good fuckin' luck on them."

"Sometimes I almost forget who's genes you are sharing." Damon laughs, one of my favorite sound in the world. I put my head back on his chest and listen to the beat of his heart. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of our breaths lingering through the silence of the room. 

That's before we can hear quick little footsteps heading in the direction of our door.

"Incoming" Damon whispers, before the door bursts open.

"Mom! Dad! Allie has stolen my Dino - again!"

"Mrs. Albarn?" I look up. 

"I'm sorry. Lost myself in a thought for a moment."

"We'll be ready in around five minutes, is that okay for you?"

"Of course. And please, call me Claire. I'm not a Mrs. and surely not a Mrs. Albarn."

"As you wish, Mrs...Claire." He nods and then turns his head around to the camera man right behind him that focuses the camera directly towards me. I stiffen up.

Remember, I say to myself. You're doing it for Damon and for the boys. But there's something I didn't say to Damon this moring.

And you're doing it for your bellends of brothers.