Me and Penri had been working on another song, in the hopes of building on the previous summer’s success, but then Bryn got it into his head to turn the spotlight on Sel. He had him record ‘Summertime’, with ‘Yesterday’ on the B side, and he arranged for the Sunday Express to mention him in an article called ‘Whatever Happened To …’ about has-beens.
Hazel said, ‘That’s cheeky.’
Sel said, ‘No, I don’t mind. I know I’m not exactly at my peak. And I’d rather be called a has-been than a never-was.’
We opened the week after Whitsun. Me and Sel had top billing, with Micky Michaels, the comic, a Country and Western group from Widnes called the Rattlers, a memory man – I forget his name – and Zuleima, the Human Rubber Band. It was a very slow start. It was all very well him running on, twirling round, showing off his jacket as if we had a sell-out at the Topanga Ballroom, but when a theatre’s half empty you can feel it. It gets into your guts.
We did a mix of nostalgia numbers and novelty songs: ‘As Time Goes By’, ‘When Somebody Thinks You’re Wonderful’, ‘A Windmill in Old Amsterdam’. There was one matinée we played, Sel giving his all in a pink sequinned jacket. ‘All together, now!’ he said, for a reprise of ‘I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside’ and I’ll swear there was nobody out there, only the usherettes.
Then we had a cold snap so things picked up, punters glad to get in out of the wind and enjoy a first-rate show. Sel started getting ladies up out of the audience, just like the old days, to admire his costume or sing along with him.
‘It’s such a thrill seeing you in the flesh,’ one of them said.
‘Cled,’ he said, ‘you might have told me my fly was unbuttoned.’
That got a laugh.
‘How about a request?’ he said. ‘Anything you like. Cled here can play anything. Rachmaninov. Chopsticks.’
‘“The Boy I Love”,’ somebody shouted. That raised a laugh too.
Hazel was disappointed that he didn’t come back to Llandudno with me every opportunity but he had other things on his agenda. Weekdays he’d hang around with me, especially if Avril was in town, laughing and larking about with her instead of taking a hint and making himself scarce, but Saturday nights he’d have a car collect him straight after the show and he’d be gone till Monday afternoon – in Liverpool or Manchester, I suppose, looking for others of his tendency.
I said, ‘You be careful. You’re on my patch now. Any scandals and my career’ll be affected as well.’
He said, ‘You’re something! You are telling me to be careful? Tell you what, Cled. I just hope Bryn Reynolds isn’t the jealous type. I hope he isn’t in possession of a shotgun.’
Me and Avril were always very discreet. I said, ‘We’re only friends.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he said. ‘That’s some kinda friend, drives all the way from Knutsford for a Bacardi and a packet of crisps. And I didn’t realise Hazel had such a modern outlook, allowing you to have that kind of friend. The kind that stays the night.’
I said, ‘I don’t see how you can comment, never having settled down yourself. You don’t know what it’s like. The same old routine year after year.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s true, I don’t. Even though I wouldn’t have minded trying it.’
I said, ‘And from what I hear it must be like Crewe Junction at your place. A different face on the pillow every morning.’
‘Face on the pillow!’ he said. ‘That’s a lie! Nobody puts their face on my pillow.’
I said, ‘Well, whatever it is they do, only don’t tell me because I don’t want to know. But me, I’ve put in nearly twenty years with Hazel.’
He said, ‘You make her sound like the night shift at Greely’s. Poor little Hazel. But I tell you what, Cled, I’m not going to say another word. I’m not that interested. I always believe what goes on in a person’s bedroom is their own fucking business. What do you say?’
Oh Rhyl!
The inspiration of a tune
You stand beneath a Conway moon
And murmur softly, some day soon
Return you will
To lovely Rhyl.
Prestatyn’s nice in its own way
There’s nothing wrong with Colwyn Bay
But please believe us when we say
Return you will
To lovely Rhyl.
CLOCKER AND BOFF
TWENTY-FOUR
We were playing to full houses by the end of the season. Linking up with me had given Sel a new lease of life and it was quite on the cards that we’d be offered something even better for the following summer. But then September came and it turned out to be a black month for us all round. First we heard Hubert Conroy had passed away in his sleep and then Arthur dropped dead at his desk. He was only two weeks off retirement. Two people came from the Personnel Department at Aldridge’s, turned up on the doorstep and broke the news to Dilys, just like that.
It was Gaynor who phoned us. She said, ‘You’ll have to come. Mother has to be supervised and I can’t leave Clifford on his own all day.’ Gaynor and Clifford had their own chemist’s shop at Alum Rock by then. They’d never gone in for a family.
Hazel said, ‘You and Sel go. I’ll come for the funeral.’
I said, ‘Why can’t you come now? This is a job for a woman.’
‘Because I can’t swan off and leave my gentlemen,’ she said. ‘This is a business I’m running.’
Jennifer Jane said, ‘Why do we have to have all these men in the house anyway?’
There was one gent Jennifer Jane particularly disliked. She said she didn’t like the way he came down to breakfast in his slippers.
Hazel said, ‘Well, that’s a hanging offence.’
Jennifer said, ‘I’d have thought we could have our house to ourselves now Daddy’s top of the bill.’
Hazel said, ‘Being top of the bill, Jennifer, will very likely be a flash in the pan and if you’re going to college for five years we need steady money coming in.’
Sel said, ‘I’ve told you, I’ll pay for her to go to college. I want her to discover the secret of eternal youth. But you do what you have to do. Me and Cled’ll go and rally round Dilys. You follow when you can.’
I took care of things at the undertaker’s and Sel sat with Dilys. I never know what to say to people at a time like that. I said, ‘Would you like Mam to come home?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Funnily enough, I wouldn’t.’
We could have had a slot on the Friday but we had to wait for Betsan to fly in. That meant Tuesday was the soonest we could get the deed done. Sitting around, drinking tea, listening to Dilys crying. I couldn’t even phone Avril for a bit of light relief.
When Hazel finally arrived I said, ‘On Tuesday, I think I’ll give the cremation a miss. I’ll stay here, in case anything crops up.’
‘Nothing will crop up,’ she said, ‘because I’ll be here, cutting the sandwiches and you’ll be where you should be, at your sister’s side.’
Sel said, ‘We should have it catered.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I’ve already told Dilys, I’m doing ham sandwiches and fruit cake. And they can have tea or sherry. Sel, you go and buy the sherry.’
On the Tuesday they closed Aldridge’s for the afternoon as a mark of respect. It all went off according to plan. Sel sang ‘The Old Rugged Cross’ and the crematorium laid on a vicar to say a few words. I’d never realised Arthur’s middle name was Hampton, after Harry Hampton, centre forward for Aston Villa when they won the League Cup in 1910. It’s funny the things you don’t know about a person till they’re dead.
Gaynor and Betsan and Clifford rode with Dilys in the front car, and me and Sel followed behind with Arthur’s brother and sister-in-law.
I said, ‘Who was the little old chap talking to you at the back of the chapel?’
He said, ‘You didn’t recognise him either? It was Teilo. He’s gone all skin and bone. I didn’t know him till he spoke.’
I said, ‘What did
he say?’
‘Oh, you know,’ he said. ‘Hello, son. How’s Annie? Be nice if we could be friends. Be nice if we could have a drink, for old times’ sake.’
I said, ‘Will you?’
‘Not bloody likely,’ he said. ‘Start socialising with one dad, the other two are liable to turn up.’
Mr and Mrs Persons’ faces were a picture.
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I’ll be gone.’
I said to Sel, ‘I thought you might stay on a bit? Keep Dilys company?’
‘Can’t be done,’ he said. ‘I’ve got commitments. She can come back with me and Betsan, have a change of scenery. Perhaps she’d like that. Funny, isn’t it, you make plans. There he was, sharpening his pencils, dreaming about that big fat pension from Aldridgg’s, and the next minute, gone. “When I retire,” he used to say. What a mug. Learn from this, Cled. Tomorrow doesn’t always come. Whatever it is you want, get on and do it.’
I said, ‘I do.’
As we walked through the door Hazel said, ‘Roll your sleeves up, you two. Cled, you hand the sandwiches. Sel, you help me with beverages. Listen, more tragedy. Bryn Reynolds’s wife. It’s true what they say. Bad news always comes in threes.’
Everything inside me stopped still.
The first edition of the Evening News lay on the dresser in the hall. ‘Motorway carnage’, it said. ‘Avril Reynolds, well-known on the Birmingham club circuit, was one of three killed in a pile-up in fog on the M6.’
Hazel said, ‘Only forty-five. What a waste. You seen her recently, Cled?’
I looked at her.
She said, ‘The paper’s full of car accidents. Thick fog all over that side of the country and yet it’s beautiful here. I think we could put a few chairs in the garden. It might lift the mood a bit if people can circulate and look at the flower beds.’
I didn’t say a word.
Sel grabbed hold of Clifford. He said, ‘Clifford, take these sandwiches round. I need Cled for something.’
‘Sel!’ she said. ‘Where are you taking him? I need you to pour the sherry.’
‘Five minutes,’ he said. ‘We’ll be back directly. But I’ve got to get some smokes.’
He walked me outside to my motor.
I said, ‘You’ve got smokes. You opened a new pack just before the hearse came.’
‘Get in,’ he said. ‘Just sit quiet, till you’ve pulled yourself together.’
I don’t know how long we sat.
I said, ‘I can’t go back in there, sipping tea, talking to strangers. I can’t do it.’
He said, ‘I’ll do the talking, you do the sipping. It’ll be worse if Hazel sees you going to pieces. Then you’ll have some talking to do.’
I just wanted to be on my own, so I could think about what had happened. I said, ‘This is judgement on me, Sel.’
‘Judgement!’ he said. ‘It’s a car pile-up. It’s people driving too fast in fog. Now get a grip on yourself. If you can’t do it for Hazel, do it for Dilys.’
I said, ‘That’s going to be my punishment, never being able to talk about her. After you’ve gone home, there won’t be anybody who knew, anybody I can talk to.’
‘Ever hear of a thing called a telephone?’ he said and he got me in one of his bear hugs. I could smell that orange stuff he’d started putting on his face.
Two men from Aldridge’s had stepped outside for a cigarette. ‘Look at that pair,’ I heard one of them say. ‘Must be the widow’s side of the family.’
It was even worse after the well-wishers had all gone and the washing up was done. Everybody sat around, talking about the best way to get over a bereavement. Get a little part-time job. Do voluntary work. Join a bowls club.
Sel said, ‘You should come and stay with me. Perfect weather. Beautiful house. Lovely garden. Swimming pool.’
‘And your mam,’ Hazel said. ‘Just what you need, eh, Dilys? Back under the same roof as your mam.’
Sel said, ‘She wouldn’t be under the same roof. Not exactly. She’d be in one of my guest bungalows. Anyway, Mam’s all right. She’s mellowed. And Ricky’s there. And Betsan and Larry aren’t far away. I reckon I should buy more land. We could have ourselves a whole compound. We could be like the Kennedys.’
Gaynor said, ‘What about your pipes? If you go to America you’ll have to drain them. I can’t keep running over from Alum Rock all the time, keeping an eye on things.’
Hazel said, ‘Betsan, how come you’re allowing your gran to raise Ricky? He should be at home with you.’
Betsan said, ‘He can come home any time he likes, but he has to learn to get along with Larry.’
Hazel said, ‘It doesn’t seem natural to me, a boy his age being raised by a woman in her eighties.’
Betsan said Larry had done his best. She said she had to put him first.
Hazel said, ‘Well, I think you’re making a big mistake. Your child is always your child. Whereas husbands come and go,’ which started Dilys weeping again.
‘They do come and go, Hazel,’ she said. ‘And you might keep that in mind. You and Cled should cherish each other a bit more. You look at one another like you lost a shilling and found sixpence. Sel’s the only ray of sunshine in this family, bless him. But you don’t need to worry about my pipes, Gaynor, because I’m not going home with him. I’m staying here with my memories.’
Dilys had insisted we have her bed. She said, ‘I don’t want to wake up in it without Arthur.’
So Hazel lay next to me, prattling on. ‘You look terrible, Cled. What’s the matter? I’m sorry if I’ve not cherished you lately. I’ve been busy. You’ve been away. Have you got a pain? Tell me if you’ve got a pain. Have an aspirin. Have a Rennie. I don’t want you collapsing on me like Arthur.’
That was how I started serving my time, listening to her when I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. Avril wasn’t the greatest beauty but she had musicality and a vivacious personality and a double D bra cup. She could go to bed in the middle of the afternoon and not worry about a thing. She never asked me to leave Hazel. She never really complained about Bryn. ‘He’s not a bad old stick,’ she’d say. ‘But all he thinks about is business. Counting his money, that’s what lights Bryn’s fire!’
She’d turned Aberystwyth into paradise for me, and Rhyl and Prestatyn, and then she was gone. It felt like winter, without any prospect of spring.
TWENTY-FIVE
It was just as well Dilys didn’t go home with Sel, because there was a nasty surprise waiting for him when he got off the plane. He was on the cover of a magazine called Uncensored. ‘The Secret Life of Mr Starlight,’ it said. They’d found three men willing to come forward and say things about him. One of them said Sel had struck up a conversation with him in Pershing Park, Los Angeles and offered him a beer. ‘I’m not that way myself,’ he said, ‘but I was young and he was a strong man and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was just the once, but I knew who he was. My mom had all his records.’
They’d raked up the Conroys’ pool boy too, from all those years back, and one of Sel’s drivers. I suppose they paid them money. It was just a scandal rag on sale in supermarkets and it wasn’t as though it was the first time there’d been stories. But this time he said he was going to sue.
I said, ‘Well, you were a big pal of that pool boy. What about the other two?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘The world’s full of boys.’
I said, ‘Then you shouldn’t go to court. You’ll just get tied in knots by lawyers. And they’ll put Kaye Conroy on the stand. You don’t want to put an old lady through that. And what about Mam? Why don’t you just let it lie.’
‘That’s the thing, Cled,’ he said. ‘Time after time I have done. I’ve never talked about my private life. I never wanted to and I still don’t, but now my fans are going to read this stuff and it’s going to cost me. These scumbags are the ones who started it, not me, and now I’m going after them.’
He was right about it costing him. A daytime tel
ly series got cancelled and he fell out with three different lawyers, and in the end it was open season on Mr Starlight. He’d always had a big following in Baltimore, but a paper there ran an article about him calling him Mrs Boff’s Fruit Pie, and Bliss Bellaire was in the Enquirer, recycling her old line about him being the perfect gentleman, except she’d altered her tune a bit. ‘He was a little too perfect for a red-blooded girl like me,’ she said. ‘There comes a time when all that restraint ain’t so flattering to a girl.’ Of course, Bliss Bellaire wasn’t exactly a girl any more, nor a film starlet as they described her, but that’s magazines for you.
Sel put out a statement saying he intended fighting a pack of filthy lies that were making his elderly mother ill. ‘I believe in family,’ he said. ‘Ask anybody. I adore women and women adore me. Ask my fans. I may not have been lucky enough to find the right girl and settle down, but that’s no reason to tar me with disgusting names and cause distress to my loved ones. Don’t these people have mothers?’
Our Jennifer said, ‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about. He can’t help the way he is. It’s only like being left-handed, or having red hair.’
I was shocked she even knew of such a thing, but she had just started her medical studies at Liverpool University and I suppose doctors have to know about all kinds of things. I said, ‘It doesn’t run in families, though?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t think so. I expect it’s hormones. He probably got the wrong hormones before he was born.’
I told Sel. I said, ‘Jennifer Jane says this problem of yours is caused by hormones. A lot of things are, apparently.’
He said, ‘Is that right?’
I said, ‘Yes. She reckons there’ll probably be a cure for it some day.’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘there you go! I didn’t even know I had hormones. Thank God somebody in this family’s getting an education. How about you, our kid? How are you?’
I said, ‘Nothing wrong with my hormones.’
Mr Starlight Page 20
