Burning Matches
Chapter Text 章节内容
Sometimes people hid the good stuff in unexpected places to keep party guests from finding them. Noel once found an expensive old cognac in a bathroom cupboard, right there next to the shampoo and a dildo shaped like a dolphin.
有时候，人们会把好东西藏在意想不到的地方，以防派对客人发现。诺埃尔曾在浴室的橱柜里发现了一瓶昂贵的老干邑，就在洗发水和一个海豚形状的假阳物旁边。
This party was terminally dull. Some geezer, Bertie Someone-Or-Other, was throwing a huge do at his mansion. The word on Bertie was that he was a bit like Noel himself, really, a bloke from modest means who made a lot of money very suddenly. He couldn't recall what the business was, something dull like non-stick pans. Bertie was swimming in it, so he bought himself this house, and maybe a few others in key locations around the globe. He threw ridiculous parties like this one, hoping to buy his way into the in-crowd.
这个派对无聊得要命。一个叫伯蒂的家伙在他的豪宅里举办了一个盛大的聚会。关于伯蒂的传闻是，他其实有点像诺埃尔，一个出身普通、突然赚了很多钱的家伙。他记不清他的生意是什么，听起来像是不粘锅之类的无聊东西。伯蒂赚得盆满钵满，于是他买下了这栋房子，也许还有几栋在全球关键位置的房子。他举办像这样的荒唐派对，希望能买通入圈子。
Originally Liam had whined and moaned that he wanted to come tonight. That was always a huge mistake. Liam might have the ability to spice these sort of things up but he also had the ability to turn the most innocuous event into utter carnage. Thankfully, hours before they were supposed to meet, Liam had decided he'd rather stay in, watch telly with his missus. They'd had a huge row about it even though Noel was frankly relieved Liam changed his mind. In the end he'd hung up on the string of abuse Liam screamed at him down the phone-line. He'd come with Meg instead. Meg was a royal mess, they both were—eating garbage, drinking hard, living like pigs. That was his life now, touring and partying and dealing with Liam.
最初，利亚姆抱怨着想今晚来。这总是个大错误。利亚姆可能有能力让这些事情变得有趣，但他也有能力把最无害的事件变成彻底的混乱。谢天谢地，在他们应该见面的几个小时前，利亚姆决定他宁愿待在家里，和他的女友一起看电视。他们为此大吵了一架，尽管诺埃尔坦白说利亚姆改变主意让他松了一口气。最后，他挂断了利亚姆在电话那头对他大喊大叫的辱骂。他改为和梅格一起去。梅格一团糟，他们俩都是——吃垃圾食品，喝酒，过得像猪一样。这就是他现在的生活，巡演、派对和应付利亚姆。
Meg had been partying with Sadie for two days solid and hadn't slept a wink. She made it about thirty minutes before falling asleep in a potted rubber plant. He stuck her in a taxi and sent her home. He supposed he really ought to have gone with her but maybe he was feeling a touch resentful. Maybe he thought he deserved a night out alone for once. Maybe he felt like his whole life seemed to be standing by while other people made fools of themselves. Maybe it wasn't really about Meg at all, it was about Liam and how unreliable he was. If he was honest with himself, most of the time when he got into this mood, it was about Liam. He didn't feel like being honest, he felt like being drunk.
梅格和萨迪已经连续派对了两天，没合过眼。她大约坚持了三十分钟，就在一盆橡胶植物里睡着了。他把她送上出租车，送她回家。他想他真的应该陪她一起回去，但也许他有点心怀不满。也许他觉得自己应该有一次独自出去的机会。也许他觉得自己整个人生似乎都在旁观别人出丑。也许这根本不是关于梅格，而是关于利亚姆和他有多不可靠。如果他对自己诚实，大多数时候当他陷入这种情绪时，都是关于利亚姆。他不想诚实，他想喝醉。
After sending Meg home, Noel wandered through the house in search of the kitchen, determined to find that secret stash of fancy booze. He recognised some familiar faces, some of the people from his own set, some hangers-on who seemed to come to every party. Kate Moss had her arms around some girl's waist, she blew him a kiss as he passed her. He was starting to think he ought to have marked his way with breadcrumbs when he came to a black door with frosted glass windows. He opened the door and entered the room. The lights were off and Noel could barely see the end of his own nose but he decided not to switch them on, he liked the clandestine feeling of snooping around in the dark. After bumping into a little metal and glass serving trolley, Noel gave up and turned on the spotlights under the cabinets. He could now see what he'd already suspected, he'd found the kitchen and it was fucking huge: black granite floors sprinkled with gold, glassy as the surface of a frozen lake, black lacquered cabinets, one of those floating island counters where you could eat breakfast, lots of chrome. It wasn't too different from Noel's own kitchen, really. Except his kitchen counter was covered in ashtrays and empty glasses.
在送走梅格后，诺埃尔在屋子里游荡，寻找厨房，决心找到那藏着的高级酒水。他认出了几个熟悉的面孔，有些是他自己圈子里的人，还有一些似乎每个派对都来混的人。凯特·莫斯搂着一个女孩的腰，经过她时，她向他飞了个吻。他开始觉得自己应该用面包屑标记路程，当他来到一扇带有磨砂玻璃窗的黑色门前。他打开门走进房间。灯是关着的，诺埃尔几乎看不见自己鼻子的尽头，但他决定不打开灯，他喜欢在黑暗中偷偷摸摸的感觉。在撞到一个小金属和玻璃的餐车后，诺埃尔放弃了，打开了橱柜下的聚光灯。现在他可以看到他早已怀疑的东西，他找到了厨房，而且它大得惊人：黑色花岗岩地板上洒满了金色，像冰冻湖面的光滑，黑色漆面橱柜，还有一个可以吃早餐的悬浮岛台，很多铬合金的装饰。其实这和诺埃尔自己的厨房并没有太大区别。 除了他的厨房台面上满是烟灰缸和空酒杯。
He was casually opening the cupboards, taking time to admire the fancy glassware. It looked like none of it had ever been used. It didn't look like he was going to find anything in here but then he thought there might be something on the top shelves. He tried to pull himself up onto the strip of counter that wrapped its way around the kitchen—more granite, more chrome—but he lost his balance and stumbled over something...someone stretched out on the floor, next to the fridge. It was a woman, her ankles crossed like she was lounging on a beach chair instead of the kitchen floor. He noticed her feet first: high-heeled strappy shoes. She had on a short, black, shiny sort of dress. The fabric reminded him of Geisha girls, it was covered in Oriental-looking flowers. She was clutching a bottle of mini gherkins. When he tripped over her, she made a sound like an upset cat.
"Oh...sorry. I didn't see you there. I needed a glass of water," Noel said vaguely. "You know...you could have said something when you saw me enter...it's only polite."
"But this is more interesting. Looking for the good stuff, were you?" she said, giving him the once over. "Bertie doesn't keep it here. He's sneaky."
She set the jar of gherkins down beside a tiny clutch bag and some sort of lacy jacket and got up, opened a door beside the dishwasher that turned out to be a sort of broom closet. Well, he supposed that's what it was meant to be. When she switched on the light he saw it had gleaming metal shelves boasting row upon row of cleaning products, labels all facing forward like Rainman's wet dream. There was a state-of-the-art hoover and a bouquet of brooms and mops that looked more like modern art than cleaning tools. The woman reached behind the row of bleach bottles and pulled out a bottle of rum that looked like it once belonged to Blackbeard. It had a cork and a peeling gold label.
"This is the good stuff," she said, pressing the bottle into his hand and beaming proudly.
Noel just stared at her. "How did you know it was there?"
She shrugged. "My dad told me."
"Who's your dad?" he asked. "Do I know him?"
She showed him her profile, waited a beat while he squinted at her and did a double take. How could he have missed it?
"Fucking hell!"
The hazel eyes, the dark hair, the narrow nose. She was the spit of Paul McCartney.
"Not too quick, are you?" she smirked. "And I heard you're the clever one."
"The clever one?" Noel said, grabbing two glasses and pouring a measure of rum into them.
Noel couldn't tell if she'd recognised him or not. Sometimes they didn't know him without Liam.
"You're one of those Gallaghers...Liam?"
"Noel," he corrected her, a frisson of irritation rippling through him. "You're…"
"I'm Mary."
He handed her one of the glasses and sunk down onto the floor beside her.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mary. What are you doing sat on the floor in the kitchen? Isn't your bum frozen solid? Hiding from someone, are you?" Noel asked, questions tumbling out like coins from a slot machine.
She took his hand and placed it squarely on the floor. It was warm. "Heated, pretty luxurious...we had to wear every jumper we owned during winter on the farm in Scotland."
She tilted her head at him and knocked back the rum cleanly.
"I wouldn't say I'm hiding exactly...I'm just not in the mood for partying," she said. "How about you?"
Noel narrowed his eyes at her and then swallowed down the rum in his own glass. He let out a sigh, this rum was excellent. "Jesus Christ."
"Right?" She laughed. "Hit us up again, Noel Gallagher."
He poured another shot of rum into her glass and then his own.
"Thought you're not in the mood for partying."
Mary shrugged, looked down at the granite floor, running a finger along a vein of gold in the stone. "This isn't partying, it's drinking. Dad brought me here, thinking it would cheer me up...it's a long story, really."
"Is this a good place to not party?" Noel asked.
"Yeah. It's the second kitchen...everyone is in the main kitchen. It has a freezer full of ice cubes. This is just so Bertie doesn't have to walk forty days and nights if he gets hungry in the middle of the night," Mary explained. "You didn't answer me, by the way. What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" Noel thought about it for a while. "Looking for the good stuff," he said at last at her through his lashes and smiling.
Mary didn't look convinced. She stared at him, dark brows raised, looking exactly like the female version of Paul Fucking McCartney. Then she smiled and it took his breath away.
"Not really feeling sociable," Noel admitted at last, swirling the drink around in his glass. "It's not important."
They sat there side by side in silence for a while. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Noel wondered how best to get her to talk about the Beatles without seeming like an insane fan. Finally he decided it was easiest to just be honest.
"So…" Noel said slowly. "What's it like…?"
"Being the daughter of a Beatle?" Mary finished for him. She sighed heavily.
Noel knocked her foot with his. "Sorry. Do-over. Stupid question."
She grinned at him, a cruel light flashing in her eyes. "What's it like being Liam Gallagher's brother?"
Noel laughed uncomfortably. "You didn't even know which one I was five minutes ago."
She leaned against the wooden cabinets behind them, then rolled her head dramatically to face him.
"I knew you're the songwriter one. He's the one with verbal diarrhoea, the pretty one. And you're always beating each other up and cancelling gigs."
She had him there. Noel turned away in search of the bottle, made a big show of opening the cap.
"Hey," Mary poked him in the side with one finger. "Are you sulking?"
"No…" Noel said sulkily. He poured himself another measure of rum.
"Bertie's going to have a fit," Mary said with a smile. She held out her glass for him to refill.
"How do you know Bertie?" Noel asked.
"His name's not even Bertie," Mary said.
"No? What's his name? Albert or summat?"
"Andrew."
Noel laughed nervously. "Andrew? That's not...what? Is it a surname?"
Mary shrugged and picked up the bottle of gherkins, opened it and pulled one out. She popped it in her mouth and chewed contentedly. Noel wrinkled his nose.
"His surname is Jones or something. No idea…"
"Bertie…" Noel said mystified.
"Yeah," Mary said. "Yeah."
"So, you've known him awhile?"
"Well, Dad does. Bertie gives loads to charity. He's not a bad sort, really. Dad knows him from one of his pet projects. Anyway...he has a lot of money. He can spare one bottle of rum."
"We can put some water in the bottle. He won't notice...at first. Liam did that with me Mam's gin when we still lived at home."
"What happened when she noticed?" Mary asked, grinning.
"She boxed his ears."
"Bertie won't box our ears...he'll probably blame Dad, though."
"I wouldn't want that," Noel said. "Your dad is always lovely every time I meet him."
"Lovely to you, maybe..." Mary said, her tone sharp. "He can get fucked."
"What's he done, your dad?" Noel asked carefully.
Mary shook her head. "Doesn't matter."
They fell silent again. The rum was going to Noel's head. He thought about Meg, too drunk to stand, all her things spilling out of her handbag before she got in the taxi. He thought about the shouting match he'd had with Liam before coming here tonight. No matter what Paul McCartney had done to earn Mary's disdain, it couldn't be half as bad as anything he and Liam did to each other on a regular basis.
"It's shite," Noel said after a long while.
"What is?" Mary asked.
"Being Liam Gallagher's brother."
She nodded. "Family...can't live with 'em...can't shoot 'em, eh?"
"Alright," Noel said with a sigh. "This is what we're going to do, right? We're going to forget about...family and stuff and whatever made us come into the kitchen to be alone during the party of the century, right? We're going to...to...to drink the rest of Bertie's fucking rum...we might as well now...and then find something to distract ourselves."
"Like a game?" Mary asked.
"If you like."
Mary considered this for a moment. "Is it a drinking game?"
"It can be, yeah…"
"Never have I ever," she said.
"You what?"
"You say for example...never have I ever...done drugs in Paul McCartney's house. And since I have...I drink…"
She took a drink of rum and winked at him.
"Alright...well...I never...um never have I ever...been skiing."
"Skiing?" Mary asked, shaking her head. "Is that the best you can do?" She took another drink. "Never have I ever...gotten a tattoo."
Noel held on to his glass, shook his head.
"Really? I thought you'd have one...some girl's name in a heart in a private place…"
Noel snorted. "Definitely not. Um...never have I ever...fallen in love at first sight."
Mary looked at him levelly. She poured a measure of rum into her glass and drank it down. "Never?"
"No...never...not at first sight. No…"
"I think you're lying," Mary said. "In fact...we should lie...if you're lying you drink."
"I don't think that's how it goes, we'll be dead drunk in under ten minutes! Besides, you're not meant to have done it. That's why you say 'never have I ever'."
"Just ask me something, Clever Gallagher," Mary said impatiently. "It's more fun this way. It seems like you haven't done anything fun and I don't want to be the only drunk one."
Noel rolled his eyes at her. "Right...but it was your turn."
"Never have I ever been thrown out of a bar or club," Mary said. She took a drink of rum.
Noel looked at her quizzically and held out his glass for a shot.
"Yeah...long story…something to do with my brother James and Sean."
"Sean?" Noel asked, taking a sip of rum. "Sean Lennon?"
"No...not a well-mannered sip. A full-on shot," she instructed him.
"We'll run out!" he protested.
"God, you're prissy. Has anyone ever told you that? There's more where this came from...a whole cellarful."
"Looks like you've an agenda, right? Looks like you're trying to get me drunk."
"You're already drunk, lightweight. Besides, it's your agenda. You said you'd distract me."
"Fine. Never have I ever nicked something from a shop," Noel said. He poured some rum into her glass and double the amount into his own and then slurped it down. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic." Mary said, draining her glass. "Never have I ever…never have I ever gone skinny-dipping."
Noel covered his glass, Mary drank a shot.
"Never?" Mary asked, her eyes sparkling.
"I can't swim," he admitted.
"It's not about swimming. It's about prancing around in the water in the nude."
"Alright...might have done in me youth."
"With a girl?"
Noel felt his cheeks burn. "With Liam," he said shortly.
"That doesn't count. I spent my whole childhood running around naked with Heather and Stella and James."
"Running around…" Noel started. Fuck if he wasn't imagining Paul McCartney's daughter and Liam naked, prancing about in the water.
"You're bright red!" She laughed. "Running around on the farm...Mum used to say we might as well keep our clothes clean. We were always falling into mud, chasing cats and chickens. Eating berries and getting the juice everywhere."
"Sounds idyllic," Noel said, thinking of Longsight and his dad's vegetable patch. Not being allowed to come in for tea until every weed was pulled. "What else did you do on Junior's Farm?"
Mary gave him a little wink for his song reference. "We were Dad's audience. There was music all the time. What about you? Music from an early age?"
Noel scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. "Yeah...um...me Dad...Dad was a country music DJ. He used to play weddings and that. Used to drag me along to carry his records."
He used to ignore Noel while he did his set, thirsty and starving and begging to go home, until he crawled under the tables and drank the dregs of someone's pint.
Mary was looking at him like she was waiting for him to go on.
"And um...summers in Ireland...you know...what you'd expect. Uncles and Aunties all bringing along an instrument. Playing into the night."
"Sounds idyllic," Mary said. "Sounds like you got a head start."
Noel shrugged. "I got something," he mumbled.
"Go on," Mary said after a moment. She was smiling at him so brightly it chased away the memories of his childhood. "It's your turn, make it a good one!"
He liked her smile, it was genuine. "Never have I ever...had a threesome."
He poured a generous shot into his glass and drank it in one go. She held onto her glass.
"With a girl? Or just with Liam?" she asked, sticking out her tongue.
He stuck his tongue out at her in turn. They started at each other's tongues for a moment and then started to laugh. They were going to kiss, he'd figured that out already, he just didn't know if he wasn't enjoying the chatter more.
"Not with Liam...Very funny...Two girls, it was…" Noel admitted. "It wasn't really that exciting, to be honest."
"Not very exciting, eh?" Mary smirked. "Never have I ever...hooked up with someone of the same sex…"
She took the bottle from him, drank straight out of it. Noel took the bottle back hesitantly. He looked down, flustered. "I mean…"
"Christ, the look on your face, Noel...it's a party game, not a police interrogation. I said it's okay to lie."
He lifted the bottle to his mouth and swallowed a large gulp defiantly.
"Never have I ever had a one night stand," he said, setting the bottle down.
She gave him the strangest look, her hazel eyes wide and earnest, her lips quirked comically. Then she shook her head. She wanted him to kiss her now, he thought, his stomach doing little flips. The zing of attraction between them was delicious. He wanted to draw it out, like pulling a rubber band to the breaking point and letting it snap against your skin. He grabbed the bottle and took a swig.
"Of course you have," she said with a laugh. "A different girl every night on tour."
He shrugged awkwardly. "Even before then...you go out on Friday. You saved up all fucking week for it. Go to the Hacienda. Dance all night with some bird who's up for it and then…" He smiled, remembering. He wondered if she liked dancing. He'd like to see her on the dance floor.
"Sounds romantic," Mary said dryly.
"You must have been very sheltered," he offered. "Growing up on a farm?"
"Not really...I went to school with everyone else. Dad thought it was good for us...of course there was some pressure not to get the wrong sort of reputation...considering who Dad is...though, Stella never seemed to care. I always had a serious boyfriend."
"Nothing wrong with that. It gets boring...sleeping around…"
"Does it?" Mary asked. She took the bottle from him, her fingers lingering on his before she pulled it out of his grasp. "Never have I ever cheated on my significant other," she said.
He tipped back his head and sighed. He had never been sure of the answer to this question. Did Liam count? Was he cheating on Meg with Liam? Liam was just Liam. He held out his hand for the bottle.
"Mary?" someone called out from the hall. "Are you here?"
Mary scrambled to her feet. "Come on…" she hissed. "In here…" she pulled Noel into the broom closet and shut the door behind them.
"Little dramatic, innit?" Noel whispered.
"Shh."
"Mary?" Paul McCartney's voice rang out. He sounded close now. "Your bag is here on the floor and your umm...jacket thing… so you can't be far...You can't stay cross with me forever, you know."
Mary switched off the light. The closet was actually quite spacious, but she had manipulated him against the wall into a space that was hidden from immediate view should Paul open the door. There was something digging into Noel's back. He couldn't help think it was like they were in some stupid chick flick. This was the part where the girl's father finds them pressed up together in a closet, and before you know it, the male lead is fleeing in someone's Bentley even though he can't drive. And they hadn't even kissed yet. The girl and the male lead. Not the male lead and the father...though, honestly...would he really say no if Paul tried it on? They hadn't kissed because Noel had been waiting for the perfect moment. In his head the perfect moment didn't involve her father on the other side of the closet door.
Mary put one arm around Noel's neck awkwardly. Her hips were flush against his, she squirmed against him, and he wasn't sure if she was making a move or just trying to get comfortable. There was a sudden tap on the door and Noel jumped slightly. Mary put her hands on his hips like she meant to soothe him, achieving the opposite effect.
"Darling...are you in there? Come out and talk to me," Paul wheedled.
"Go away, Dad," Mary hissed.
God, there was no way Paul would leave the door closed now. This was a farce.
"Mary...don't you think you're being awfully childish hiding in there? I know you think I'm making a mistake but I'm only thinking of your mum. Please, try to see it my way."
We can work it out, Noel thought, stifling a giggle. He tapped his fingers on Mary's arm like he was playing the appropriate chords.
"Not coming out," Mary said stoutly. "Go away!"
Maybe it was best to just walk out calmly, act like nothing was going on, because nothing was going on, except that he was uncomfortably aroused. He shifted slightly, hoping she wouldn't notice. Mary's breath tickled his ear. She shifted slightly. "Never have I ever…" she whispered and slid her hand over his crotch.
He sucked in his breath. This was ridiculous. He was hard beneath her hand, she ran her fingernails over his erection playfully. He could feel her chest rise and fall against his. And Paul McCartney was right outside waiting for his daughter to come out.
"Well...if you're sure," Paul said.
Mary's mouth was on his throat. He turned his head to run his lips against her temple.
"I'm sure. Piss off!" Mary said. "I'm busy."
Noel slid a hand over her hip awkwardly.
"Alright. As long as you're having fun and not just sulking," Paul said.
Mary's dress was slippery smooth, Noel let his hand travel upwards, his fingertips soft under her breast. She leaned into him and all at once her breast was cupped in his hand.
"Piss off, Dad!" Mary said again.
Noel was considering calling out to Paul McCartney telling him to piss off himself because Mary's fingers had found his zipper and he couldn't think anymore. All he knew was that this was taking forever and it felt like Paul was doing it on purpose. Mary's lips were on his. Noel opened his mouth and she slipped her tongue in. He slid a hand up her thigh, up under her short skirt, his fingers brushing the edge of her knickers. Her hips tilted forward, she pressed into his hand eagerly. Noel dared himself to stop. Dared himself to be sensible. His fingers slipped under the edge of her knickers. When he felt how wet she was he almost lost his mind. This was crazy. In his wildest dreams Noel could never have imagined he'd be in a situation like this and he'd been in plenty of crazy situations in his life. Most of the time it was because of some hare-brained idea of Liam's.
"I'm going home now, Mary. If you want to talk...please, just wake me up, love," Paul said.
Mary squirmed a bit, rubbed herself against his fingers. She had worked his zipper all the way down and pressed her hand to his dick through the cotton of his boxers. No sound from outside. Maybe he'd left.
"Mr. Gallagher," Paul said all at once. "Please make sure she drinks enough water. I did quite like your last single. Very Beatley. The ‘na na na’ bit...very ‘Hey Jude’."
Noel couldn't help gasp out loud at Paul's words. He tried to pull away from Mary, but she just kissed him harder, her teeth grazing his lower lip. She was laughing under her breath, laughing into his mouth.
"Bye, Dad!" she called out.
Noel was frozen in place, his fingers still hooked under Mary's knickers. He heard the door shut after a few moments, but that didn't necessarily mean Paul was really gone. Noel counted to ten.
"I think he's gone now," Mary whispered.
"Mmm," Noel said doubtfully.
"He's gone!" Mary insisted.
She reached down and pushed his hand harder against her and after a while he figured they were probably alone because he couldn't hear a thing outside. Noel slipped his thumb against the folds of her cunt. He couldn't do this here, he realised, he needed to see her. Wanted to put his mouth on her and taste her. He wanted to lock the door so they wouldn't be disturbed.
"Mary…" Noel started, pulling away. "Stop…"
"Did he scare you?" she smirked. "Tough lad from Manchester, but my Dad says a word and you fall all over yourself."
She was wrong, he might regret it later but right at this moment Noel didn't give a damn about Paul McCartney.
"Fuck your dad," he gasped. "I just want to...to...to fucking get out of here and...and fucking...I just want…"
"What do you want?" she asked, rocking against him.
"You know what."
She sucked in her breath, unlocked the door and pulled him out along with her. Noel fell forward, gripped her face between his hands, kissed her hard.
"We ought to...lock the kitchen door," Mary said between kisses. "Unless you fancy another threesome? Bertie...Kate Moss, perhaps? I wouldn't say no to you and your Liam..."
Noel's hands were at the zipper on the back of her dress. He pulled it straight down. "Liam wouldn't say no to a Beatle legacy kid."
He walked her backwards to the door, and fumbled for the key in the lock, turned it once. The door was secure. He pushed her up against it. She was taller than he was in her high heels, but he was used to it. The glass was frosted, they could probably be seen on the outside, at least the outline of them. It was good enough for Noel. It would have to be.
"Is that what this is? The closest you can get to fucking a Beatle?" Mary said sharply.
He gripped her chin in one hand, looked at her for a moment. "No."
Then he kissed her mouth and then pulled down her dress to kiss her bare shoulder. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he bent his head to suck on her rose-coloured nipples. And shit, he wanted her.
"No?" she asked, pulling open his belt, working the button on his fly open. The zipper was already open, his stiff dick peeking through the slit in his boxers.
He worked the dress down over her hips. "I didn't know who you were at first, did I?"
"So, you wanted to fuck me when you first tripped over me? Before you realised?"
Noel slid down her body, knelt before her and pressed his mouth to the elastic of her knickers. He looked up and shrugged, grinning cheekily. He pulled at the elastic waistband, let it snap against her skin.
"What did you think when I tripped over you?" he asked, rubbing his thumbs into her hip bones.
"Shit," Mary breathed. "It's one of those Gallaghers…"
He slid down her knickers slowly while she squirmed impatiently.
"What do you think now?"
"God, Noel...please…"
He put his lips against her cunt, kissed her there. She let out a whimper of lust. Noel slid the tip of his tongue against her wetness and she put her hands in his hair. He looked up into her flushed face and smiled. Then he fucked her with his mouth until her knees buckled, and shivering, she slid to the floor, pulling him down with her. She grabbed hold of the waistband of his trousers and boxers and pulled them both down past his hips. Then she reached for his cock, her touch was gentle, maybe a little hesitant. He leaned down to kiss her mouth, her taste all over his lips. She guided him against her wet cunt, and groaning, he pushed all the way in smoothly, too excited to wait a second longer. She put her hands on his arse, pressed him hard against her.
"Make it rough," she murmured.
Ah, fuck. His hips slammed against hers, her nails bit into his buttocks. This wasn't what he expected. God, she was something. Her flushed face, her sweet mouth, long dark lashes. She was gasping for breath, arching her back. Then all at once she rolled over onto him, pressing him into the floor. The floor was hard but at least it was warm. He had slipped out of her and was suddenly desperate to be inside her again. She crouched over him, impaled herself on his hard dick again, moved above him, finding the rhythm she wanted. She put her hands on his chest, his shirt had fallen open and she curled her fingers into the hair there. Noel angled his head upwards, put his mouth against hers, his breath coming in little gasps. Mary slid off his dick, almost all the way off, and then slammed down again and he was spilling into her cunt, moaning into her open mouth.
After, she lay slumped on his chest. Her dark hair had come loose, and he played with it absently, twisting a strand around his index finger. His back hurt and his arse was probably bruised but he didn't want to move. She felt too good sprawled on top of him. Eventually she rolled off of him, jammed her hand between her legs. Noel spied his come dripping down her pale thigh, the sight almost got him hard again. Then it hit him. They hadn't thought to use a condom.
"Ah fuck," Noel said, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe off his dick.
Mary was sort of hopping towards the double sink. She wet a paper towel and mopped herself off.
"What?" she asked.
He told her what, a feeling of icy dread spreading through his intestines. This was stupidity worthy of Liam, and even Liam knew to stick a few condoms in his pockets just in case.
"Oh...I thought that was just the plan...A baby! Just imagine the eyebrows!" she said blithely.
He must have looked absolutely petrified because she gave him a wicked grin. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm on the pill."
"There are other things to worry about…"
"Let's cross that bridge when we come to it," Mary said, frowning.
It was too late now, anyway, Noel decided in the end. Mary seemed like a sensible girl until now. This wasn't sensible at all.
She climbed up onto one of the tall bar stools and looked down at him. He pulled up his trousers and walked over to the cabinets, pulled out a bowl that was presumably meant to be used for muesli. That would do as an ashtray in a pinch.
"I'm dying for a cigarette," he admitted when she gave him a questioning look.
He sat down next to her and pulled out his cigarettes.
"Me, too," Mary said. "But I shouldn't."
"Bertie wouldn't like it?"
"Fuck Bertie, my mother's dying. I sort of promised myself I wouldn't," she said in a dull voice.
"Pardon?" he asked, startled.
"Cancer," Mary said after a while.
"Christ…"
Mary crossed her legs. She reached down to adjust the strap on her shoes, they were biting into her ankles. Noel leaned down and ran a finger along the red marks on her skin.
"I suppose it won't hurt her if I smoke one," Mary said after a while.
Noel hesitated, shook two cigarettes out of the pack and stuck them in his mouth, lit them both and handed her one. She took it gratefully.
"I don't know what to say," Noel said awkwardly.
"It's fine," she said, waving his words away. "I mean...that's life, eh? That's what the fight is about. With Dad. They say it's spread. She won't last long now, and he doesn't want her to know. I shouldn't even be here...I should be with her...but he didn't want us to change our plans and upset her."
Noel sucked on his cigarette and considered that. "He doesn't want to burden her and that."
"It's her fucking burden," Mary said shortly.
"I reckon you're right."
"I know I'm right. It doesn't matter why he thinks he's doing it. It's not his decision."
He closed his eyes, took a deep drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly. "Hard enough losing your mum," he said at last. He wasn't good at these sorts of talks under normal circumstances, let alone post-orgasm. "...without all the extra stress."
Mary nodded, leaned in and put her head on his shoulder. Her nose was cold against his collarbone.
"You smell so good," she murmured.
"Do I?" Noel laughed uncomfortably. "I'm not even wearing aftershave.”
"You do," Mary said. "You're not what I expected."
"You were expecting a football hooligan who doesn't know what a shower is for and smells of Lynx Africa."
"Cigarettes and groupies."
"You've got me confused with Liam."
"At first. What's he really like?"
"Liam?"
What's Liam like? Noel considered this for a moment. Impossible, irrepressible. His.
"Very honest. Very loyal. He's a cunt...you know...but then he'll give you his last shirt."
"You remind me of Dad...talking about John Lennon."
He was too flattered to speak. He took her hand, kissed her wrist bone. Then something occurred to him. "You better not tell Liam that. He'll never shut up about it."
"Bit of a hero worship thing going on there?"
Noel rolled his eyes. "You have no idea. Did you meet him? John Lennon?" He couldn’t help himself, he had to ask.
"I did. I can't really remember him. Heather has more memories. She says he was a sweetheart. What I do remember is that Dad was different around him. Like they spoke another language. Like they were a different species."
"My missus says that about Liam," Noel admitted. "She says she doesn't recognise me when we're together."
Mary studied his face. "She doesn't like it when you're together?"
Noel shook his head. "She'd umm...she'd never tell me to stay away from him...but…" he shrugged. "Maybe I am a bit of a hooligan around him."
"Where's she tonight, then?" Mary asked.
"Sent her home in a taxi." Noel stubbed out his cigarette in the bowl and looked away, embarrassed. "I'm a fucking idiot."
Mary took hold of his face and tilted it towards hers. "No, don't...I knew you were married," she laughed. "If it makes you feel better I have a boyfriend...a...fiancé."
"Where's he tonight, then?"
Mary pressed her mouth to Noel's abruptly. "Not here."
"You're not having second thoughts, are you? Because I'm not…" She kissed his jaw. "...you're very good at distracting me."
"No second thoughts," Noel assured her. "None. Well...maybe...some small thoughts regarding Meg..."
"Guilt?" Mary asked seriously.
Noel shook his head. He didn't want to think about that part right now. "Not because of...not...um...She was fairly out of it when I sent her home...maybe I should've gone with her, like."
"Why didn't you?"
Noel shrugged awkwardly. "I didn't want to...sometimes...sometimes...I…it doesn't matter."
Mary butted his head with her own, like a cat. "You have to tell me now. I told you about Mum."
"Maybe when we met...when we met, right? We were just high all the time and then...well, I've given up mostly...and ...without...without...without the coke…maybe I...maybe we...Maybe I don't...Maybe I just married her because I thought I had to."
"Why would you have to?"
"Liam married Patsy...I just reckoned...I reckoned I ought to…"
"Liam got married so you had to…" Mary laughed.
It wasn't really funny. He remembered the searing jealousy and hopelessness he'd felt when Liam called him to say he'd done it, he'd married Patsy. He hadn't even invited him. At the time he'd been too angry to think it through but now he understood, Liam couldn't have him there. He couldn't do it with Noel there. When he married Meg in Vegas, Liam didn't show. He remembered thinking, ah...that's this marriage fucked, then.
Noel shrugged. "I'm five years older," he said, as if that explained everything.
Mary narrowed her eyes. "You love him very much," she said.
There was something in her voice that made his chest hurt. He pulled his shirt back on, buttoned the collar wrong. All at once he was aware of how he must look to her, puffy and coarse, blatantly working class while she was Rock and Roll royalty.
"And he loves you," she added.
"I suppose," he muttered.
"I understand. Because that's how I love Stella. Like she's an extension of me. Like...if you cut her I bleed."
"I don't know that's true," Noel said cautiously.
Half the time he wasn't sure he did love Liam. He needed him, that was true. Liam was his. The only person in the world who was entirely his. He didn't think Mary McCartney understood. It wasn't about love at all.
"I think it's something to do with the sort of childhood you have," Mary continued. "Not being able to count on the adults in your life."
"The sort of childhood you had...and what childhood was that?"
He bristled slightly. His arse was sore from fucking on the granite floor and sitting on this barstool. He slid off it and sank back down to the floor, stretched out his legs and leaned his back against the island counter.
"Fuck me, those things are uncomfortable. Like a fucking medieval torture device!" Noel exclaimed.
She laughed softly and disappeared on the other side of the island for a moment before she joined him on the floor now wearing that short lace jacket he'd seen earlier.
"Sexy," Noel said, running his fingers over the lace. "Not sure this will keep you warm, though."
"What were we talking about?" she asked him. "Oh, childhood…"
He drew his knees up to his chest. He didn't think he and Mary McCartney had that much in common as childhoods went.
He looked down at his dishevelled clothes. He hadn't bothered to zip his trousers and Mary looked like a pornstar, naked but for her lace shrug and high strappy heels. He didn't want to adjust his clothing though, he already felt like such a prude for pulling his trousers up.
"Always on tour. Mum and Dad were on stage or on T.V. or, I don't know...it was a good childhood, I suppose. We were free to be ourselves. But we had to share our parents with the whole world. That changes how you view them."
"Well...the whole world is welcome to my dad. The cunt. But maybe you're right. I didn't even like Liam when we were kids. But he was there...he was..."
"Yours," Mary finished.
Noel nodded briefly. She stood up and grabbed his cigarettes off the counter, then sank back down and put her head on his knee, stuck a cigarette between her lips.
"Light it for me?" she mumbled.
"Fuck no, you'll drop it in me lap, singe me balls right the fuck off," Noel said firmly.
"You sound like you're speaking from experience," she giggled girlishly, clicked his lighter demonstratively.
"I am! I…" he broke off abruptly. "Mary, sit up. I still need those testicles, right?"
She reached up, stuck the unlit cigarette between his lips. "Better check."
She rolled her face into his crotch, licked at the hair there. Then she took one of his balls in her mouth and sucked on it gently. Noel exhaled sharply, shut his eyes and let his hands flutter to the top of her head.
"Fuck me," he murmured, aroused and terrified.
Mary spat out his ball delicately, raised her head and smiled at him. "Mmm. Very nice testicles. You know they're a delicacy in some parts of the world?"
He spluttered in protest, cupped his hand over his genitals. "Jesus Christ, woman!"
"Oh, calm down. I'm a vegetarian! Everyone knows that!"
"You're not funny," he said sulkily. He poked at her ribs.
She rolled off him and stumbled to the sink, grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap, drank from it thirstily.
"Such a delicate flower," she cooed.
He flashed her two fingers and looked around for his lighter. When he looked back up Mary was leaning on the counter moodily.
"What happens now, Noel Gallagher?"
He lit the cigarette and took a drag. "You could give me your telephone number."
"Could I?" Mary asked, flashing him a small smile.
"In case you ever...ever...um...need...a...you know, a cigarette…"
He stood up, held the cigarette out to her. She took a drag and exhaled up towards the ceiling.
"And I'd...what? I'd call you and say, hi, Noel...this is Mary, you know, Mary McCartney. I know it's late but I'm dying for a smoke. Could you drive over? Bring me one?"
"I can't drive," he admitted ruefully. "But I'd, you know, steal a bicycle. I'd walk. I'd swim the Thames."
"God, you're such a romantic," Mary laughed softly.
"I fucking wrote ‘Slide Away’ and ‘Wonderwall’. Of course I'm a romantic."
She plucked the cigarette from between his lips and stubbed it out in the muesli bowl. "Alright, then."
Mary pulled him closer and kissed his mouth, tenderly at first and then increasingly hungry.
"Alright?" he asked between kisses.
She nodded, slid her hand under his shirt, curled her fingers against his skin. He put a hand on her elbow, spun her around and kissed the back of her neck, pressed himself against her bare arse. He was hard again, lightheaded with the sudden urgency that ripped through him. Mary stretched her arms in front of her, knocked over her glass. Water pooled on the granite surface of the counter and under a stack of glossy magazines and a large fancy bowl of fruit.
Mary let out a shivery sort of breath. "Like that," she murmured.
Noel fumbled with his trousers, dropped them hastily, rubbed his stiff cock against her. He pushed aside the lace jacket and put his hands on her breasts, pushed her forward against the countertop, and she pushed back against him. She was only a little taller in heels and bent forward like this, they fit perfectly.
He rocked against her teasingly and she slipped a hand behind her, fumbled for his cock. She was a little clumsy, her breath huffing out with impatience. She let out a soft low moan, wriggled against him as pushed into her slowly. He wanted to savour it this time. Wanted to feel her all around him, slick and warm. Mary wasn't having any of that. She said his name once, low and strangled, and reached back awkwardly to grip his arse. In the end he fucked her in short, rough thrusts, his knees trembling, his breath coming hard with exertion.
He came in a rush, cupping her breasts and slumping over, pressing her into the counter and cursing himself for not lasting longer. He looked up at the wall. There was a clock hanging there, something that looked like it belonged in a prison or hospital. It was past three in the morning. Beside the clock was a huge framed poster. Monet, Degas, one of those geezers.
After a few moments Mary shook him off her, rolled to one side. He reached over to stroke her breast through the lace of her shrug, thumb worrying the knot of her nipple. His heart was hammering in his chest, he wanted to tell her something about what he felt right now. He was probably just drunk. On rum and sex and her. He didn't know how to put that into words without sounding idiotic. He pressed his lips to her throat.
"Next time I'll make you come," he murmured against her skin.
"Next time?" Mary said, curling against him. "Bold of you."
Of course that was when there was a knock on the door.
"Mary...he's left now...you can come out…" a woman called through the door.
"Stella," Mary whispered, covering her mouth to hold back the laughter.
She grabbed a bunch of paper towels by the sink, shoved them between her legs and then tossed them in the bin. She scanned the floor in search of her dress. When she found it she slipped off the lacy jacket, dropped it on the floor and pulled on the dress. She turned, gestured for him to zip it shut. Noel did so, then he looked down at the buttons on his shirt and did them up properly.
"Leave the first buttons," Mary said, leaning forward to kiss his chest. "Sexy."
"What are you doing in there?" Stella asked. "Go on...let me in, you slag…I can see you...you and...someone..."
Noel barely had time to do up his trousers before Mary unlocked the door and pulled her sister in. The two sisters were as different as night and day. Stella wore a sapphire-hued pantsuit with what looked like nothing underneath the jacket, her light brown hair hung loose around her face. Noel wondered if she looked like Linda, she didn't really look like Paul.
Stella gave him a quick once over and then grinned. She looked like a good time. Or maybe that's just what Kate said about her.
"Isn't he just your type, surly and Hibernian and those eyes…Liam?" Stella asked.
"Noel," he said shortly.
"Not the one with four GCSE's?" Stella asked.
"No, that's…" Noel began.
"The brother, Stella...keep up…he's the songwriter..."
"Oh, yes! I remember!" Stella exclaimed. Any second now she was going to start singing "Wonderwall".
"So…" she twinkled at Mary. "Look at her all flushed…Mary's got a crush."
Mary glared at her sister. "We should get you home, Stella. You look high enough to fly there."
Noel just stared at them, his cheeks burning, utterly charmed. Stella bent down and picked something up off the floor, waved it like a flag. Mary's knickers. Now she did hum "Wonderwall". Noel thought she was horrible and wonderful.
"Mary...I'm appalled!" Stella sang. "You know Dad was probably lurking at the door for ages!"
Mary grabbed her knickers and shrugged. "I don't care. The man fucked half the world in the ‘60s."
"And John Lennon," Stella added.
"Shhhh. You don't know that…" Mary hissed.
"What's this?" Noel asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh but I do! I do know! Sean told me! He and James are convinced."
"Sean is an infant…" Mary protested. "So is James."
He couldn't imagine ever talking about his parents like this. In fact, he still found it mortifying Tommy and Peggy had ever been intimate.
"No, really…" Noel started. "What's all this about, then?"
His mind was spinning. He wondered how he could get them to spill these secrets.
"No," Mary said firmly. "Stella...get your coat."
"No fun," Stella pouted. "You just want to be alone with your new friend."
"Get your coat, Stella!"
Noel made a mental note to ask Stella about John and Paul next time they met.
Stella leaned in, kissed Noel full on the mouth. "Don't be a stranger."
Then they were alone again. Mary rubbed at the corner of his mouth with her thumb.
"Lipstick," she explained.
"So," Noel said slowly. "Say you'll ring me? I have a lot of...of...of cigarettes. I'm fucking stockpiling them in case of the...you know...the apocalypse."
"I said I would," Mary said. She looked down and then into his eyes almost shyly.
He slid his hand over her waist. It felt as though something had changed. They were strangers again. He leaned forward to kiss her and then paused. The door was unlocked, anyone could walk right through it.
"You need to...um...you need to give me your number first," Mary pointed out. "Or I can't ring you."
They searched around for a pen and eventually found one stuck in the fancy fruit bowl amongst the bananas. He wondered why there was a pen in the fruit in an otherwise flawless set up. He decided it was because a higher power wanted him to give Mary McCartney his number, not that he believed in a higher power. He wrote his number on her arm like they were teenagers at the disco. He wanted to ask her for hers but he didn't want to seem pushy. He was married, she was engaged. Her mum was ill. His brother...his brother was his brother.
When he got home he found Meg passed out on the couch, one shoe on and one shoe off. Noel looked away, swallowed down the shame. He went straight upstairs and rang Liam.
"What's the story, Morning Glory?" Liam asked. He sounded like he'd been asleep. It was four in the morning. Noel supposed even Liam needed a night in occasionally.
"You should have gone with me. You missed Paul McCartney."
"I told you I fucking hate those poncy parties, man," Liam said, yawning. "That's your scene."
"I met his daughter, Mary. Well, her and Stella both. But Mary...Jesus, Liam..." He paused there, unsure how to say it.
He needn't have worried, Liam caught on at once.
"What's that tone? You fucked her! Fucking hell, Noel! A Beatle kid," Liam laughed. "I suppose now you think your dick is fucking magic, right?"
"You think my dick is magic," Noel said automatically.
"Too right," Liam agreed.
He stayed on the phone with Liam until he passed out, lulled by the sound of his voice, comforted by the familiarity. His promise never to cross that line again was long forgotten.
Noel thought he'd get over it once the hangover passed, that he'd lose the feeling something important had happened in that kitchen. That they'd connected in ways that went beyond sex, went beyond silly whispered confidences. He didn't really get over it. He thought he'd turn the whole experience into an epic tune, sing about what she meant to him. Except he wasn't sure what she meant to him. And how do you write a song for a girl whose father is a fucking Beatle?
He found himself thinking what if? What if she rang him? What if they met again? What if they fucked again? What would he do then? How would he feel then? And what the fuck would Liam say about it?
He found he couldn't stop hoping it was her every time the phone rang. He found himself scrambling to the phone before Meg could answer, like the worst adulterous prick. The worst part was he didn't feel guilty at all. Ages passed and Mary didn't ring him. He wondered if her mam had passed. Or if not, maybe she was in America with her and wanted to call but couldn't. Maybe she'd married that fiancé of hers. Maybe she regretted what happened between them.
Whenever he thought of that evening with her, it felt more and more like a strange beautiful dream. And then, just when he'd nearly convinced himself it hadn't happened at all, she did ring.
"Never have I ever had a one night stand," Mary said once she'd heard his voice.
"Mary," he said, trying to suppress the excitement in his voice.
"I still can't drink," she said. "I still haven't ever had a one night stand."
"Oh? Haven't you?" Noel asked.
"No, I haven't, " Mary said firmly.
"What would you say happened the other night, then?"
"I'd say I'm dying for a smoke..."