Thursday 10th March

Steve hit the final beat on his drums and looked expectantly at Brian. They had been in the recording studios for nearly 3 weeks now, and were just finishing up on one of their first tracks.

“Well you were a bit off towards the end. I think you could do it better..” Brian answered, not looking up from his cigarette and coffee. Stef saw a nerve twitch just above Steve’s eye, as he slowly stood up from the drums glaring at the petite singer.

“A bit fucking off? That was the fucking 20^th time I’ve recorded it today. And you want me to do it again?!” he yelled, clenching his drumsticks tightly in his fists. Brian glanced up, his facial expression staying blank, and nodded.

“One more take should do it” he said, and then looked back down at the magazine he was holding.

“There will not fucking be one more take! That was perfect, take it or fucking leave it!” Steve yelled, as he threw his drumsticks at the wall.

“Steve, why are you being so unreasonable?” Brian asked, his calm tone slightly swaying in the build up to conflict.

“No, I’m not being unreasonable. You are. Taking it out on us just because you can’t fucking get your lyrics right” Steve shouted, barely centimetres away from Brian’s face.

“My fucking lyrics? No Steve this is about your shite drumming!” Brian jumped to his feet and yelled back, trying to make his diminutive stature seem threatening.

“Oh so its shite drumming now is it? Earlier it was only below average drumming!” Steve retorted quickly, as Stef sat back and watched a weeks worth of tension explode.

“Oh piss off Hewitt” Brian screamed, his eyes now starting to water. Steve turned quickly on his heel and stomped out of the room. The worried looking technician scurried out after him. Brian collapsed on the battered old sofa in the corner and put his head in his hands, so Stef got up and went to sit next to him.

“He’s right you know” Brian sobbed quietly, as Stef put a comforting arm around his shoulders. “It is about me. I don’t know. I just haven’t been able to get back into the whole creative process. Everything I come up with seems to be shit”

“Maybe you just need to take a little break? Re-arrange your head?” Stef suggested, as he gave him a gentle squeeze.

“Really?” Brian asked, bringing his head out of his arms.

“Yeh, I’ll talk to Rob, let you have a few days off” Stef reassured him quietly. Brian smiled weakly up at him, his green eyes shining through tears. He stood up and found his coat as Stef went to find their producer.

He was waiting in the reception for Stef when Brian suddenly heard yelling and shouting coming from the room behind him. He listened carefully and could tell it was Steve’s voice.

“YOU WHAT? We’re behind as it is, we don’t need him having days off complaining of writers block” he yelled. Stef was obviously trying to reason with him, but Brian didn’t hang around to listen. He stormed out of the building, and towards the street pavement. He shivered slightly due to rage and cold, and threw his coat around his shoulders as he hailed a cab home.

Once back in the safety of his flat, and with a hot coffee to hand, Brian could see he had been unreasonable to Steve. He hadn’t meant to snap at him, but his anger at not being able to write had made him take it all out on someone. Stef was right he did need a break. A little time to himself to clear his mind, and to sort out his writing. He stared down at the open notepad in front of him.

God he needed to come up with something better than this. Maybe more than a few days were needed. So he decided to take a well deserved (in his opinion anyway) holiday. Fuck Steve, fuck the producer, they could wait for him.

Later that day and Brian was busy in his room, packing any clothes he could find into a large suitcase. Just as he was trying to stuff some more shirts in, his mobile phone rang. He picked it up on instinct and looked at the caller. The blue screen announced that it was Stef, so after a few seconds hesitation he cancelled it. Brian then decided it would be better if he switched his mobile off, and set off round his flat gathering up essentials.

It didn’t take him long to pack, so pretty soon he was huffing and puffing trying to get the suitcase down the stairs. He inwardly cursed his smoking addiction, and made up his mind to try and quit once he got to his destination. Brian managed to get the case into the back of the cab with some help from the cab driver, and gratefully collapsed on the back seat as they headed off towards the airport. He slipped his sunglasses over his nose, and stared out of the window at the bland English countryside. Soon he would be away from it all, for however long it took to get him back in the right frame of mind.

“The plane is about to start its descent. Could you please fasten your seatbelts and fold away your passenger tables” The loud voice over the speakers awoke Brian from his light sleep with a jolt. He grudgingly fastened his seatbelt, and then looked around the cabin. He was amazed he had been able to get a flight at such late notice. But then again it had cost a ridiculous amount. He felt the familiar feeling in his stomach as they started to drop in altitude, and then let his mind wander back to Stef and Steve. He briefly wondered how they were but then reminded himself he was on holiday to forget them.

“I’ll call Stef once I’ve landed” Brian muttered under his breath. The man sitting next to him started to look at him very oddly.

As Brian watched the suitcases go round the escalator, filled with a mix of curiosity and dread that his case wouldn’t be there, he totally forgot about phoning Stef. His was one of the last cases to come around, so he quickly hauled it onto a nearby trolley and set off towards the exit of the airport. He managed to find a cab fairly quickly, and stood and watched as the poor short man heaved his case into the boot.

“Laitue Bécote, S’il vous plait” he asked as he slipped into the back, his American drawl now with a slight hint of a French accent.

“Oui Monsieur” the cab driver replied, as he drove off. They were heading towards one of Brian’s favourite places in France. A tiny little village that he had discovered last year on one of their tours, and fallen in love with. He had decided it was perfect for getting away from the stress of everything.

Just as Brian was admiring the scenic views, quite a contrast from England, his mobile phone started to ring in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered it without looking to see who it was.

“Brian?” Stef’s confused voice sounded down the phone, “Where are you?”

“Umm” Brian wondered what to tell him.

“Because if you’re at home, open the door. I’ve been trying to get in for ages.” Stefan continued.

“No. I’m not at home” Brian replied.

“Well where the hell are you? I’ve been worried ever since you ran out of the studios” he said, indeed sounding quite worried.

“Erm.. I’m in France” Brian said, not wanting to make the situation worse by lying.

“What? Why?” Stefan replied quickly, his voice raising at least 2 octaves.

“I just needed to take a break, like you said. Have some time to clear my mind” Brian said, trying to calm Stef down, reassure him he hadn’t been kidnapped or something stupid.

“I know I said that, but I meant a few days in England! When are you coming back? We need to finish the album!” Stefan said, the panic rising in his voice.

“I don’t know Stef. When I’m ready. I just need to be on my own for a while. I’ll call you sometime soon. Love You” Brian said quietly, then he ended the call. He took a deep breath and turned his mobile phone off, turning to look out the window instead.

After what seemed like hours of driving, Brian finally saw a small cluster of buildings emerging from the fields in front of him. The cab driver slowed down as he got near to the town. Brian breathed a sigh of relief. It looked just as he remembered it, with its quaint old stone buildings and rural people.

(Of course all the dialect from now on is meant to be French, but I cannot read or write French fluently, as neither can most of you I suppose! So I will just write it in English.)

“Where do you want me to drop you off?” The cab driver asked. Brian stopped and thought for a moment. He hadn’t really considered where he was going to stay.

“Is there some sort of guesthouse nearby?” he asked.

“Yes, there is only one in the village. Shall I take you there?” the cab driver replied. Brian nodded in response and looked curiously out the window at Laitue Bécote’s amenities.

They came to a stop outside a large, slightly run-down building. Brian hoped this wasn’t the place, so he stayed where he was, waiting for the driver to pull away again. But instead the cab driver got out and started trying to heave the heavy suitcase out of the boot. Brian sighed, reluctantly opened the door and got out. The cab driver dropped the bag by the door and looked at Brian expectantly.

“50 Euros please” he said.

“50?!” Brian replied in shock, and fished around in his back pocket for his wallet. He handed a few notes over to the driver and turned back to survey the guesthouse. A rusty old signpost with a decaying sign hung above the door.

“L’Auberge Plaisante” Brain read aloud as he picked up his case. It looked far from pleasant, but it was the best the village had to offer apparently.

He pushed open the door and walked cautiously into what he supposed to be the lobby. There was no one around so he rung the little bell on the desk and waited. There was no sign of anyone for a good few minutes, so Brian dropped his case to the floor and looked around him. There were a few mouldy old paintings on the walls, and a large burnt out brick fireplace that looked as though it hadn’t been used in years. Suddenly someone came flying down the stairs with such a thud, that Brian nearly jumped out of his skin. A man landed at the bottom, and stood up quickly as to avoid the person that was following him. He was a slightly overweight man, wearing rather tattered clothes and with a ruddy flush to his cheeks.

“Please Marguerite, I’ll have the money for you tomorrow. You know I will!” he yelled upstairs. Someone who Brian assumed was Marguerite followed him quickly down the stairs.

“Oh yes I suppose you will sell off some stolen goods again Claude? It’s not good enough! Get out!” she yelled back, as she grabbed a broom and started hitting the poor man round the head. He tried in vain to protest whilst being simultaneously hit with a broom handle and shoved out of the front door. Marguerite slammed the door on him, and turned around to face Brian, a large smile across her face.

“Yes, how can I help you?” she beamed, as though nothing had just happened. Brian just stared astonishedly at her.

“Umm, I need a room. Are you the owner?” he asked when he finally managed to get his tongue back.

“Yes, but I’m afraid we have no more rooms” she replied quickly, looking out the window to check that Claude had gone.

“But, you just threw someone out? Surely his room is free now?” Brian asked hopefully.

“Oh Claude? No he’ll be back. And I’ll let him back like the fool I am..” Marguerite answered as she moved over to the desk and starting tidying it.

“Please. I need somewhere to stay, and this is the only guesthouse in Laitue Bécote. I’ll pay whatever you want” Brian pleaded. Marguerite stopped her cleaning and turned around to face him.

“Well.. we could use some extra money. Goodness knows the regular tenants try to dodge paying the rent..” she said as she looked down at Brian’s hopeful face.

“Oh OK. You can stay in Luc’s room. He’s away at university anyway. So long as you pay some rent upfront” she reasoned.

“Yes of course. Thank you so much” he nodded and replied. Marguerite beamed at him.

“Ok, I’ll show you to your room”

As Marguerite led him up the narrow winding staircase, Brian tried to see into the other rooms. But all the tenants seemed to be out and their doors closed. Just as he was getting tired of climbing stairs, Marguerite stepped onto a landing and waited outside one of the doors. Brian looked at the door expectantly as she fumbled in her pocket for the keys and unlocked it. He walked in and looked around, it was nice. There was an old oak bed in one corner of the room, with a small bedside table and a chest of drawers. On the other side was a roomy wardrobe, and a doorway that Brian supposed led to his bathroom. He set his suitcase down on the bed and looked round the doorframe. There was an old, slightly rusty shower fitting in one corner, with a toilet and a sink. Brian noted with some distaste that there was no mirror, but luckily he had brought a travel one with him.

Marguerite’s loud voice behind him made him jump suddenly.

“Well I’ll leave you to get settled in. Come and talk to me about rent a bit later, I’ll be downstairs in the reception” she said then left the room, leaving Brian on his own. He sat on the bed, which creaked slightly, and looked out of the window. It was a pleasant view, with the top of the village church just in sight in front of the fields. He did a quick check of his room, looking for suspicious damp patches or mould, but was quite satisfied when he found none. Then he started to unpack, arranging all his clothes neatly in the wardrobe and drawers and setting his personal items around the room. By the time he had finished it looked passable, and a loud rumble of his stomach reminded Brian that he was hungry.

So he grabbed some money and his notebook and pen, and set off downstairs to look for Marguerite.

On his way down there was no one to be seen, but Brian didn’t really give it much thought. He found Marguerite face down on the desk, apparently fast asleep.

“Umm.. are you awake?” He asked carefully, before prodding her in the arm.

“You shot him!” she yelled, as her head jerked off the table. Brian jumped back in surprise. Her hazy eyes slowly focused on the figure standing in front of her.

“Oh heh, sorry. I must have *yawn* dozed off for a bit. How can I help?” she asked sleepily.

“Um.. you wanted to talk about rent?” Brian asked tentatively, wondering if she had forgotten who he was.

“Why of course! Rent! Well it’s 20 euros per night, but I will require a weeks upfront.” She said, her eyes lighting up at the mention of some money.

“Yes that’s fine. I don’t know how long I will be staying though” he replied as he counted out some notes.

“Most of the people that stay here don’t leave for quite a while, I wouldn’t worry about it” Marguerite said as she accepted the money. “Breakfast is served at 9 in the breakfast room.” She motioned towards a doorway by the stairs that Brian hadn’t noticed before.

“Ok, well I’m off now, going to have a look around the village” he said as he started towards the door. Marguerite merely nodded in response and within seconds had fallen asleep on the desk again.

Brian sighed as he walked out onto the street, and nearly collided with Claude.

“Is she asleep yet?” he asked, gesturing in the general direction of Marguerite.

“Uhm, yeh..” Brian replied, looking at the man curiously as he scurried back into the guesthouse. Brian just laughed a little to himself and continued walking up the road until he found a small café.

He walked through the doorway, and again walked into someone. He looked up to find himself staring into the face of a tall young man, with dark impeccable features and steel grey eyes. The man, however, was scowling back down at him.

“Watch out! Stupid foreign twats” he said hastily, as his friend stopped to turn around.

“Come on Nicolas, we are going to be late. Leave him” he reasoned. Brian held his stare, and finally the man backed down and followed his friend out of the café.

“Nice locals..” Brian muttered to himself as he found a seat at the front of the room.

“Oh don’t mind Nicolas. He’s always in a bad mood” came a voice from beside him. Brian swivelled in his chair to see a young waiter standing next to him.

“What can I get you?” he asked politely, smiling shyly to expose his white teeth.

“Umm, just a coffee for the moment will be fine” Brian decided, and watched the waiter as he walked back towards the kitchen. He looked cute, with soft blue eyes and dark short hair. Brian made up his mind to find out more about him. He casually leant back on his chair and lit a cigarette, totally forgetting his decision to quit. The inviting smell of bread and coffee invaded his nostrils, and he lounged quite happily for a while, just gazing out of the window. He started thinking of some lyrics, after all that’s why he was on holiday. But thinking about lyrics made him think about Stef and Steve, and he realised how much he missed them already. So he focused his concentration on a very interesting sheep in the field to his far left.

He was awoken from his musings by a soft coughing and a hot cup of coffee being placed on his table. Just as the waiter was about to walk away, Brian held out his hand to stop him.

“No, stay and chat with me for a while? You aren’t really busy, and I could do with some company” he asked politely, flashing what he thought was his most charming smile. It wasn’t really true, he wanted to find out more about this lovely creature, but he wasn’t about to admit that. The waiter seemed to hesitate for a moment as he looked around the café for his boss, but there was no one to be seen, so he sat down next to Brian. Brian smiled jovially and held out his hand.

“I’m Brian.” He said as they shook hands.

“Benjamin, Ben for short.” The waiter replied.

“Not a very French name? Where were you born?” Brian asked, striking up a conversation.

“In this village. But my mother wasn’t French she was English. So I suppose she preferred an English name to anything else. You speak French very well for a foreigner?” Ben replied, seemingly quite happy to talk.

“Well I was born in Belgium and I grew up in Luxembourg, hence the French. But my father was American, which is where I suppose I get the accent from.” Brian said, leaning across the table to pick up his coffee. Ben nodded and was silent for a moment, pondering what to say next.

“And what brings you to Laitue Bécote? You don’t seem like our usual kind of tourist. Plus it’s a bit out of season” He asked, remembering the normal crude English families he had to put up with in the summer.

“Well I had a bit of creative tension at work, I couldn’t write properly. So I came here to kind of clear my head and get some inspiration.” Brian confessed, sipping at his coffee.

“What do you do for work?” Ben asked curiously, leaning towards him slightly. Brian opened his mouth to say ‘Musician’ but something stopped him. For some reason instead he replied “Writer. Like poems and prose. That kind of thing.”

“Wow, that sounds interesting. I wish I could be doing something with my life, instead of being stuck here” Ben said, with a slight hint of sadness to his voice.

“Do you live alone then?” Brian asked, trying to find out if he was in a relationship or anything.

“Yeh” Ben sighed, “I used to live with my mother.. but she was a strict church goer, and in the end I suppose I didn’t agree with her beliefs. So I left..” His voice trailed off, and he looked slightly embarrassed at having revealed so much about himself. Brian sensed his uncomfortable silence, and started talking about his own religion mad mother to take the focus away from Ben. Ben looked slightly relieved and listened intently to Brian’s tales of growing up in Luxembourg.

They were still chatting amiably an hour later, when Ben happened to glance at his watch.

“Crap. I hate to throw you out, but its 15 minutes past closing time” he said, standing up and collecting the coffee cups.

“Nah that’s Ok, I’ll probably see you tomorrow yeah?” Brian replied as he headed towards the door.

“Sure, tomorrow” Ben said, as a faint smile played across his lips and he wandered out back to the kitchen. Brian couldn’t help but find himself grinning as he walked out of the café and down the street.

Brian walked down the road for a bit, just happy with his own thoughts until his stomach growling made him realise he was incredibly hungry. He hoped that Marguerite served some kind of food at the guesthouse and set off towards it.

When he walked in the front door everywhere appeared to be deserted. Brian heard some noise coming from one of the adjacent rooms so he cautiously walked over and pushed the door open. He was greeted by the sight of Claude and Marguerite dancing arm in arm on top of a wooden table, with a crowd of people watching. There was some music playing on an ancient stereo in the corner, and everyone seemed to have a drink in their hand.

As the song ended Marguerite almost fell of the table, and caught sight of Brian. She started smiling as she waltzed over to him.

“Brian! We’re having a little party for one of my nieces’ birthdays! You’re welcome to join us!” She exclaimed loudly. Brian smiled; she had certainly had a few too many drinks.

“Sure. But I was just wondering if you have anything to eat? I just realised I haven’t eaten all day” He asked.

“Oh dear, we don’t really have anything in the kitchen, just the cake and some bread. My niece is a baker you see. Lovely girl really..” Marguerite started to drift off the conversation so Brian quickly thanked her and headed off in search of the kitchen. He soon found it in one of the doors off the room and started hunting for bread. He eventually found it curiously stashed between the bin and the cupboard, and put a few slices in the toaster. Someone entering the room interrupted Brian from his thoughts, so he looked over to see a young woman standing in the doorway. She was quite short, with wavy chestnut hair and eyes that were a strange mix of green and grey. She looked a bit harassed by the commotion apparently taking place in the other room.

“Hope you don’t mind. My aunt has gone a bit nuts… I just needed some quiet!” she explained, sitting herself on the counter top and clutching a glass of wine.

“No that’s fine, I was just making some toast. Is Marguerite your aunt?” Brian asked curiously, leaning himself against the opposite counter.

“Yeah.. She gets a bit.. you know.. when she’s had some drink” She laughed slightly.

“Yes I’ve noticed,” Brian smiled, “So that would make it your birthday then?” The girl nodded in acknowledgment as she drank some more wine.

“Well happy birthday then..” Brian trailed off, apparently waiting for a name.

“Clémantine” the girl finished for him.

“Clémantine,” Brian echoed. “I’m Brian Molko” he said as he held out his hand. Clémantine reached across and shook it, before gesturing to the toaster.

“I think your toast is burning Mr Molko” she said and laughed slightly as she watched Brian try to salvage the remains of the toast.

The pair started talking, probably helped by the flowing wine. They discussed anything from Clémantine’s childhood to Brian’s view on MooMins. Pretty soon Brian found himself being able to talk easily to this friendly outspoken girl. They moved back into the main room after a lot of the guests had either fallen asleep or gone home, and continued their chat on a pair of armchairs by the fireplace. Eventually Brian found the conversation turn to his afternoon spent in the café.

“So you met Ben then?” Clémantine asked curiously, topping up their wine glasses and nearly spilling it on the carpet.

“Oh yes!” Brian replied, winking cheekily, “I was talking to him all afternoon! He’s loverly” Clémantine started giggling uncontrollably.

“Yeh he’s really nice. In fact I should be meeting him tomorrow for lunch” she said with some difficulty.

“Oh are you friends then?” Brian asked leaning towards her.

“Yeaaaah, we’ve known each other since we were children” She replied airily, leaning forward and grinning as if to challenge Brian.

“Oh good, I thought you were going to be my love rival then!” Brian admitted, collapsing into giggles. Clémantine couldn’t help but get caught up in his infectious laugh.

“So are you admitting you are thinking of a relationship type thingy here?” She probed the matter further. Brian raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe….. I bet he’s a good fuck though!” he concluded and Clémantine laughed so much that wine came out of her nose and she nearly fell backwards off her chair. Brian stretched out an arm just in time to save her.

“Easy! I think maybes we had better be getting you to bed” He said, as he shakily got to his feet and pulled Clémantine up with him.

“Are you trying to hint that I’m pissed?” She asked, slumping against him as he tried to drag her out of the door.

“Why yes my dear, now where are you sleeping?” Brian enquired, as she pointed in the vague direction of a room on the first floor. They managed to stumble their way up the stairs, and Brian made sure that Clémantine had gotten safely into her room before he attempted to tackle the 3 odd flights of stairs he had to climb. Somehow he made his way to the safety of his own room, and collapsed fully clothed onto the bed.