Strum

"Wow," she said, louder than I'd have thought appropriate, especially given what she said next. "How do you say I'm rich without saying I'm rich?"

I said nothing. I never thought I was rich. My family worked hard, where neither Mum or Dad came from rich backgrounds, but they were educated. Dad was a natural at science, and was an industrial chemist, while Dad's wife Kirsten, who I thought of as my other Mum, was borderline genius at mathematics, but decided to focus on education, being a passionate maths and physics teacher. She could be earning so much more if she'd wanted to. These two helped me greatly through school. And my real Mum, well, she's the most creative person I've ever met, and I've met quite a few highly creative people, and I know she worked hard too, but none of us were flashy or particularly wealthy...not that I was about to tell Tanya all this.

"You don't think you're rich, do you?"

Snapped out of my self-reflection, I looked to her. "I'm not rich. I worked since I was fourteen to save for this..."

"In your daddy's business, I bet."

"Dad doesn't own a..."

"And you live in a house in somewhere like Ramsay Street or Summer Bay..."

"I live in Brisbane..."

"In a house with a yard. And you have a working dishwasher and washing machine, and your Mum does all the work around the house..."

"You're judgey. You don't know me."

"But I'm not wrong, am I?"

"I do most of the chores at home because Mum and Dad both work, and I help raise my brothers, and my real Mum is..."

A musician...

I caught myself, no way was I going to tell Tanya everything about my family, especially not about Mum.

She was silent for a while, probably the most silent since I'd met her less than one hour ago. The woman across from us shifted in her seat and eventually Tanya said, "I'm sorry. I was rude."

"That's okay," I said, not meaning it, because I felt like shit.

"Want to know a secret?"

"I guess..."

"I've only been outside of London a handful of times."

Furrowing my brow, I asked, "Why is that a secret?"

Her eyes caught mine for a moment and then she looked away. "I live here and only ever visited Liverpool and Birmingham to see my grandparents a couple of times. And I've never really travelled anywhere else, other than stopping in Manchester one time."

"You rarely leave London? So what, it's not something to be ashamed of. I rarely leave Brisbane."

She looked up, her eyes catching mine, and she smiled. "Before travelling here, I bet you've visited places in Australia other than Brisbane?"

Thinking for a moment, I slowly nodded.

"I'm twenty and haven't gone outside of London more than a few times. And I want to travel! Like you are traveling. I want to go to Paris and Berlin, and New York! And the world!"

"Nothing's stopping you travelling..."

The look she gave cut me off and I knew this was about money. She didn't have much, I was getting the message.

"Do you work?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I have a job, behind the bar in a pub. I don't make much. Maybe I can ask for a raise since I kind of introduced the manager to Wes and now they're dating."

"Wes is your brother?"

Nodding, she said, "Yes, Wesley..."

The train slowed and the speakers came to life, announcing our next stop was Wembley Park. I stood and grabbed an overhead handle for balance as inertia tried to throw me in the direction of travel. Tanya stood and gathered her guitar case, and she said, "I lied to you."

"What? When? Was it about living over there or being from down that way?"

"Huh? Oh, you're weird."

The platform was flashing by, a few people waiting there, and I looked out to them, then to Tanya. "I don't care what you lied about, come be weird with me."

"I don't know anyone who works at the stadium."

"Oh. So fucking what," I said, deciding I wanted to be loud and not hidden, and the woman behind me cleared her throat, probably shocked. But my words grabbed Tanya's attention, and her eyes met mine. "Come, we don't have to go in. Just check the place out."

She smiled. "I like your attitude."

Without thinking about it too much I held my hand out to her as the train pulled to a stop and the doors began to open. After a second's hesitation she smiled some more, took my hand, and we pushed through the handful of people entering the carriage, minding the gap onto the platform, up the stairs and back out to the brightly dull grey cold London day.

~0~

Strolling down Olympic Way was surreal. The number of soccer and rugby matches I'd watched here, all on TV from about sixteen-and-a-half-thousand kilometres away. This was different, real, icy gusts like in a wind tunnel, and somewhat dead compared to the hype on the television. There were people about, walking silently and mostly alone to wherever they were going, many appearing to be students, and I guess I expected more. Several crows cawed from a lamp post, adding to my feeling of desolation.

Ahead was the great twist of steal arching over the ground and I tried to think what it might be like on game day, walking here with thousands of fans waving flags and wearing their team colours, the noise and excitement echoing off the buildings. What would it be like to be here with Dad and Kirsten and Leo and Charlie, among the crowd, cheering and laughing? I stopped and raised my phone, snapping a quick photo.

"Here," Tanya said, reaching out, "I'll take your pic."

"I don't need to..."

"Oh, come on, you should. For your family."

She was smiling again, yet she'd remained silent since we left the train. I handed over my phone and stood there while she lined it up.

"Can't you look more excited?" She said, her eyes narrowing. "Make an effort."

"I don't particularly like photos of me..."

"You dragged me here, so now you must pose for me."

"I didn't drag you here..."

"Shhhh," she said, finger on lips. "Pose for me, bitch!"

"Whoa," I said, shocked, but laughing too.

"There you go, that's the style."

Approaching her, I said, "Did you take my photo?"

"I've taken many already," she laughed.

"Give me my phone," I said, snatching my phone back.

"Tetchy." Her tone was sarcastic, but I could see she was trying to hold her laugh in.

Swiping through the three photos she'd taken of me, the first wasn't too bad, while I looked annoyed in the second, and the third I was a blur. In all photos the background was bordered by the great curve of Wembley's Arch dominating the skyline. I deleted the last photo and we walked to the pedestrian ramp taking us to the entrance.

Tanya was lugging her guitar around and I wondered if I should offer to help her carry it. I didn't, but rather I said the only thing that came to mind. "Dad says they're going to pull this ugly ramp down and put in a massive set of stairs to the entrance."

"Oh," was all she said.

"Oh, is that all you have to say?"

"I'm trying to think of a sob story to get in."

"We don't have to go in. And my ticket might be invalid because I missed my tour."

She stopped. "I have cancer and I want to see where Queen played Live Aid before I die."

I shook my head. "They won't believe us."

"Like you could come up with something better."

"Sounds like a challenge. Um...we can sneak in."

"There's a million fucking cameras watching us, even right now. They can practically read our minds, we can't sneak shit."

"We can give it a shot."

"You're crazy, despite your pretend punk hair you've never snuck anywhere or done anything rebellious in your life."

Raising my eyebrows, I replied, "I've snuck into a few venues."

"Bull shit," she said, crossing her arms. "Where have you snuck into?"

"I snuck into a Muse show once."

"Muse? The band?"

"Oh, you actually know Muse, do you?" I said it with an extra big smile.

"Oh, do you actually know Muse, do you," she mocked. "Of course I know Muse. And you did not sneak into their concert."

"I totally did and they went off, moshed my fucking tits off."

I didn't tell her how Mum snuck me in with some help from her friends in high places.

"You're lying...you never had tits to begin with!"

I laughed, shaking my head, then turned towards the entrance, saying, "Are you coming?"

I reckon I heard her giggle, but moments later she was beside me, walking past Bobby Moore and in through the entrance.

~0~

"Sorry luv, but your friend won't be able to enter without a valid ticket."

The man at the entry point was resolute. Despite his bulbous nose with angry red veins threaded upon its surface, his face was kind, and he'd already told me I could take a self-guided tour despite missing my guided tour. I wondered if there was another angle.

"She's my..." I needed to think quick, "...cousin, from here in London. When we bought our tickets I think I wrote her email wrong, so they probably sent it to the wrong person."

"She always does that," Tanya added, sounding more confident now. "I never get hers wrong because who could forget cummykimmie69."

The main raised his eyebrows. "Sorry girls, but I can't let you in if you don't have a ticket. Rules are rules, I'm afraid."

Tanya looked down and my mind raced for a solution, remembering her plan I'd scoffed at. "She's dying. And she wants to see where Queen played Live Aid. This is why she brought her guitar."

Tanya looked up, giving the man her best puppy dog eyes. He didn't move and I think he almost grinned, saying, "Oh, yeah, what you dying of, luv? Cancer?"

"Don't be so cruel!" I said, and Tanya genuinely appeared to be about to cry.

"Oh, sorry, luv," the man replied, but I could tell he wasn't born yesterday. "I still can't let you in unless you pay."

Tanya slumped her shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Kim. I guess I'll never live my dream of seeing where Freddie Mercury played his last concert."

"I'll pay for you," I whispered, perhaps a little too loud and harsh.

"No, you go, I'll miss out, and when I die I'll come and haunt this man."

"Come on girls," the man said, his voice reasonably patient and slightly amused, "You're either payin' and comin' through, or you can leave."

"What if she sings you a song? I promise, she'll rock you."

The man smirked. "I think if she sings it might haunt me."

Tanya shook her head. "I don't think I'll waste my time haunting you now."

"Well I'm not leaving my dying cousin out here while I go in." I spoke with a flash of anger, for the benefit of the gate-keeper, for it might just make him wonder if our lie was true. "Come, let's go."

"What are you doing? Go in without me, silly. You did pay for a tour after all." Tanya whispered this and I could tell there was a genuine flash of anger in her tone.

"Nope," I said, having some fun because I no longer cared if I went into Wembley to get some photos for Dad and my brothers. Sometimes I get this urge, or a feeling, to take a different course of action to the road most travelled, and already my day was more interesting for running into Tanya. We may never meet again after these few hours, but I wanted to explore where the rest of our time together would take us, which my mind was made up would be a far more interesting adventure than the day I planned, of touring the stadium before riding on double decker busses around town and the like. "Let's go."

Tanya rolled her eyes and we walked away. Unexpectedly, she turned and spoke to the man on the gate, telling him, "I am dying. Dying of a broken heart because I'll never get to see where Queen played their biggest show."

I'm sure the man shook his head, maybe he was still amused, but either way, Tanya crooked her arm and I slipped mine through hers and we walked off around the concourse. Out of sight from the front entrance, Tanya said, "You're crazy. And rich because you wasted your money."

"Nah, I didn't want to come here anyway. Dad asked me to, but it's kinda lame doing a tour instead of coming to watch a soccer match."

"Football. It's football, and make no mistake, if you say soccer again, I'll belt you over the head."

"Soccer..."

"Right, that's it, you asked for it." She took her arm from mine and made a fake swing with her guitar case, which I stepped back from.

"And you think I'm crazy."

And she smiled.

~0~

It's funny how things go. One minute we were walking on the outside of Wembley, Tanya telling me how she supports Everton because her brother and Liverpudlian Mum and grandparents support Everton, and the next minute we were passing through an unguarded open door. A tradesman, an electrician by the look of the signage on his van parked on the concourse, was working somewhere inside, and his access was through one of the many doors, this one being of the open persuasion.

We didn't say a word and went on through as if we we'd not noticed we'd passed to the forbidden side.

"Holy shit," I whispered when we arrived onto a middle tier looking out to rows of red seats above and below, left and right and way beyond, surrounding the grassy pitch.

"Wow," Tanya breathed. "We might not be here for the FA Cup, but this is fucking enormous. I've only seen it on the telly."

"You've never watched a game here? Like in real life?"

"Never. Let's go up."

I couldn't see why not. We could make out a few people around the tiers, those who paid for their tickets, giving themselves a self-guided tour, and another group followed a tour guide. No one was looking up, everyone's eyes facing the grassy field.

We climbed the stairs to right near the top, and when I turned towards the pitch I could have lost balance, my mind racing about how high we were. I panned my phone about, taking a panorama photo, whispering, "We ain't in Suncorp anymore..."

"Huh?"

"The footy ground in Brisbane, it's called Suncorp..."

"Football?"

"Rugby League."

"Ahgh, so shit," she giggled, sitting in one of the seats, placing her guitar case on the next seat along.

I chuckled, then sat at her side, both of us putting our feet up on the seats in front.

"So..." I said, not finishing.

"So...what?"

Staring down to the pitch way below, I asked, "Why'd you...why tell me you knew someone who worked here?"

"Look, I'm here," she said, slapping her palm to her chest. "It all worked out."

"But why'd you come with me?"

"Why'd you follow me?"

I turned to her. "I was coming here anyway, but you weren't. Not initially."

She didn't reply, staring at the pitch, and I gave her foot a nudge with mine. She returned my nudge, finally speaking. "I don't know, I was bored I suppose. I don't start work till two, and there was nothing better for me to do."

"So I'm your play thing for amusement?"

"Yes, you're my plaything, and now I'm going to play with you."

"You're not the player you think you are, bitch," I said, slapping her leg. Glancing to my right, I saw her grin.

It was cold and breezy, our coats pulled tight around us. I wished I'd wore a beanie, coveting Tanya's hoodie. Eventually she said, "Remember what you told the old man on the gate?"

"How you were dying of cancer? You're not dying of cancer, are you?"

"Yes..."

My heart skipped. "Seriously?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're full of shit...aren't you?" I couldn't tell. Tanya pursed her lips, but a smile crept through anyhow, and I said, "You are full of shit, you're not dying."

Her grin grew. "I'm not dying, at least not of cancer."

"What then?"

"Life...we're all dying from the moment of birth."

"You bitch," I said, flicking her knee.

She chuckled. "Why do you care, you don't know me. I'm some random you met an hour ago."

"Because you're my first friend overseas, okay. This makes you important to me!"

She chuckled some more. "You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Me? Never..."

We both chuckled. "The other thing you said, this was where Queen played at Live Aid."

"Oh yeah. It's what you told me to say. Except it's not the same as back then, because this is all new."

"But imagine being among the crowd, watching them own the stage!"

"It would have been amazing," I said, trying to picture a stage, tens of thousands of people, my mind's eye playing the images I'd seen on YouTube in the old Wembley. I stood, saying, "It would've been incredible!"

Bending down, I began slapping the seat in front of me twice, then clap, boom-boom-clap, boom-boom-clap, boom-boom-clap, and Tanya reached for her guitar case, pulling the instrument out and began to strum and pick the strings, a blues-style rhythm matching my beat, boom-boom-clap, boom-boom-clap, boom-boom-clap.

I faced her, grinning and she grinned back, her beautiful voice singing We Will Rock You, her voice like an angel's. She sang like something else, and the word amazing didn't describe her voice, her fingers working the strings the entire time. I stopped thumping, pulling my phone from my jeans and began recording. Her curls fell from her hood, covering half her face, but I captured her half-smile, and her voice when she sang, her guitar giving off all the good vibrations. I panned the camera around the stadium, then back onto Tanya, who finished with a guitar solo, then fist in the air.

"Wooo!" I said, "Yeah! You just rocked the crowd of one-hundred-thousand, who are all here to see you!"

"Thank you, thank you," Tanya said, smirking. "My brother's going to shit when he finds out I played Wembley."

"You're going to be famous because I'm gonna put you on TikTok."

"Already am famous. Look, even my adoring fans are coming to greet me."

I turned to look where she'd gestured, two security guards wearing bright green hi-vis vests making their way up each side of the aisles beside our section. She chuckled. "There's no escaping fame."

"Morning, Ladies," the man said, his colleague threading his way from the other side lest we attempt to run.

"Hey ya," I replied to the man, and when my eyes met Tanya's she smiled.

We were escorted to the entrance where the man at the gates from earlier raised his eyebrows when he saw us, while Tanya and I both gave him a little wave. And he smiled, waving back.

We received a small lecture, something about not sneaking into places we shouldn't be, then were sent upon our merry way.

"That was bangin'," Tanya laughed.

"Aren't you glad you joined me for the day?"

"Me join you? The way I see it is, you joined me."

"Ha, no, you totally joined me."

"It doesn't matter, because I need to get to work in an hour, but I think you should come and drop by for a drink."

"Oh, where's work?"

"A pub down the road from where you met me earlier. I'll text you the address."

"I could maybe come later. Suppose I'll have to give you my number then."

"I suppose you will," she said, grinning. "And you can send me the video you took of me rocking Wembley!"

~0~

I caught the Tube here and there, and a double deck red bus, sight-seeing a little, but returned to the hostel earlier than planned because I needed a break. The hostel was nothing fancy, but reasonably clean, at least by the standards of hostels I'd later stay in during my overseas wanderings. With no expectations at the time I thought little of it, but this was one of my first experiences sharing a room with random strangers.

Four bunks, four strangers, four different languages. Claudine from France; Kristyna from Czech Republic; Luisa from Colombia; and me, Kimberly from Australia. For some reason I felt like the odd one out, maybe because they all knew English and I only knew snippets of French and Spanish, and no Czech what-so-ever.

After a late afternoon nap, the girls invited me to join them in the lounge, where we each bought a glass of cheap wine from the bar, and Claudine screwed her face up every time she tasted the bitter drop. I didn't blame her because even in my short life I'd tasted better wine.