‘It’s a military college actually, one of my favourite places.’
‘The place with the huge gates?’
‘Yes that’s it, it’s gorgeous in there, I think you’d love it. Hang on a minute…’
I shut the door a little and went to find Mum.
When I’d found her and told her Scott was at the door and wanted to take me for a walk to the college she looked amazed.
‘What the hell for? I thought he’d have lost interest by now, I don’t understand him.’
She’d been making pastry and cakes for teatime and had flour all over her hands and apron, which thankfully meant she wouldn’t want to be seen looking like that. Not that she would ask Scott in anyway.
‘The college you say, well I suppose so. Make sure you get back here before teatime, and no going behind the bushes or anything like that.’
She didn’t look too happy so I decided to get going fast before she changed her mind. But she hadn’t said no – and I couldn’t believe it. I ran back to the front door.
‘Won’t be long – got to brush my hair.’
In actual fact I belted up the stairs, had a panic about what I was wearing and decided to put my grey bell bottomed hipsters on and the pale blue skinny rib jumper with the polo neck. I cleaned my teeth and dabbed myself with the American perfume with the unpronounceable French name which my aunt Celia had given me. Thankfully I had clean hair.
I put a little mascara on – Mum would go nuts if I put too much on in case anyone saw me – and I grabbed my blue shoulder bag and hurtled down the stairs.
At first I thought Scott had given up waiting and had left. I opened the door wider, relieved to see him by the gate talking to the blond God, and the rest of his bandmates, who I’d only ever seen from a distance.
Gordon Bennett, they were a good looking bunch. I’d love to see Yvette’s face if she went past now…
The blond God saw me and waved me over. I shouted ‘bye’ to Mum and closed the door before she could check me over. I made my way nervously towards the boys, disappointment washing over me. He never mentioned them coming with us..
‘Hey babe.’ The blond God smiled at me and I nodded back. The dreaded flush was already starting to spread across my throat.
‘So, babe, how are you?’ said the dark haired, dark eyed boy, with a sort of angelic face.
‘Fine thanks,’ I said lamely, feeling anything but a babe.
‘Yeah, babe, how’s it hanging?’ The lean tanned one with Marc Bolan locks, smiled at me.
I’d no idea what he meant but smiled and nodded in response. The older-looking one who I’d seen in the van that day when they tooted, simply nodded at me. I nodded back.
‘I’m Rich, the roadie.’
I had no idea what a roadie was but looked suitably impressed and muttered, ‘Oh, far out.’
What a twit I am, I thought as soon as I opened my mouth. Some babe I was.
‘Her name isn’t babe – as you well know. She’s Renza. Renza, let me introduce the rest of the band.’ Scott laughed. ‘This is Zak, lead vocals,’ he said, pointing to the blond God. ‘And this is Joss, our bass player,’ he added, pointing to the boy with the black hair and angelic face.
‘Hello,’ I said, glancing at the house to see if Mother was hiding behind the curtain, spying. She was. I looked over at Mrs Digby’s and saw her watching us out of the bedroom window. I wished the boys would go away before I got hauled back inside.
‘And this is Mo, our drummer and my co-writer.’ Scott put his hand on the Marc Bolan look-alike’s shoulder.
‘Hi there, Renza,’ he said, smiling warmly. He winked at me. ‘You’ve really done a number on Scott, Renza. From the first moment he saw you he’s been determined to have you to himself.’ He laughed as Scott punched him.
‘It’s called love at first sight, you know.’ Mo added grinning at me.
I blushed in horror and Scott’s face went red but he didn’t look angry, he seemed very accepting of what his band-mate said. He winked at me, nodding and grinning broadly. Love at first sight, cripes, that’s something else…. flipping heck. Me?
‘All right you lot, clear off and let us get going.’ Scott opened the gate and put his hand in the small of my back, guiding me on to the pavement. I breathed a sigh of relief; they weren’t coming and we were leaving before Mum could change her mind.
‘We’ll see you later, don’t forget. We’re working tonight. I’ll come and pick you up so don’t go too far inside the college,’ Rich told Scott.
Scott walked on the outside of the path and thankfully waited until we were out of Mum’s view before taking hold of my hand. It felt strong and cool and soft, though I had noticed before that the tips of his fingers were quite hard. I asked him about this and he told me it was from playing guitar with his fingers and not using a pick.
I desperately tried to think of something else to say, but just as I opened my mouth Scott said, ‘you look gorgeous.’
I blushed right up to my roots and held my head down, letting my hair fall all over my face, saying nothing. Too shy to even say thank you. I hoped Scott wouldn’t mention anything about the love thing – I’d die – but deep down I was thrilled. A gorgeous boy loved me. I felt all excited and terrified at once. There’s no future in anything anyway, because I’ll be gone before long and he will soon find someone else, but even so …
Scott was watching me out of the corner of his eye, making me feel embarrassed. I wondered what he was thinking, but daren’t ask.
‘They all seem very nice,’ I managed as we passed the recreation ground where the local cricket team were in action against some team or other. Dad would’ve normally been playing with them, if he hadn’t been in Germany
‘The band?’ Scott squeezed my hand tightly, ‘yeah, they’re cool guys.’
‘How long have you been in the band?’ I asked, thinking it would be good to ask him lots of questions and then there wouldn’t be awkward silences.
‘Well, Zak and I have been in bands together since we were about 15, and this one has been together since about 1966 I guess.’
‘Oh, that’s nice. How long have you known the others?’ I sneaked a look at him out of the corner of my eye, taking in his long slim legs and slender hips in tight black trousers. His broad shoulders were covered by a purple shirt – so far out!
‘Well, the other two joined not long after, I’m not really sure how long ago.’
‘That’s my nan’s house over there,’ I told him, pointing to the red-brick house with the huge front garden full of chrysanthemums and peonies.
‘That’s nice,’ he said politely.
Oh, I am so lame.
‘That’s the farm where I used to collect eggs, feed the cows, and sometimes help with the haymaking and potato picking when I was little.’ I pointed to the 16th century farm house and out buildings nestling back from the road.
‘Before we moved into our house we used to stay with my Nan when we were home on leave from the army – we lived mostly overseas, so did my cousins, and sometimes we’d all descend upon Nan at the same time. It was fun, but very crowded.’
‘That’s nice, you having a real family and everything,’ he said at last. ‘I never really had one. When my parents divorced neither of them wanted my brother and me once they remarried. We reminded them of their unhappy marriage I guess.’
‘That’s sad,’ I said, feeling so sorry for him, he seemed as lonely as me. I wanted to give him a big hug. ‘But big families aren’t everything. I can’t wait to get away from them all.’
‘I think I can see why.’ He laughed. ‘Your mum is a bit full on and all those kids all the time... not that I don’t like them, I do, but they never leave you alone.’
‘Tell me about it.’ I sighed. He put his arm around me and it felt great.
We passed the gypsy cottage with the Romany caravan in the garden next to the huge pile of logs which they used to sell, along with pegs and lucky heather. I made Scott lau
gh when I told him about the time my Nan bought some ‘lucky’ heather from Old Ma Lee who came to the house selling bundles of it. Nan gave her a few shillings for several bunches and it was only after Old Ma Lee had gone, she realised she’d just paid her for her own heather. Old Ma Lee had picked all Nan’s heather and then had the nerve to sell it back to her!
We entered the village end of the college and I showed him where Yvette used to live, just inside the gates before her family purchased a house in town. ‘I think I’ve seen your friend,’ he said. ‘She and another girl kept visiting you when we first moved into the flat. Got the idea they were trying to get off with us.’
He laughed again, a lovely throaty, warm laugh, which made my knees go weak.
‘Yeah, Mum sent them packing. She hates people coming round.’
‘I noticed, but she better get used to me coming round because I’m not stopping.’
Scott turned to me and grabbed my shoulders and bent his head to kiss me.
I closed my eyes and felt the soft lips touch mine and I was in heaven. I melted into him and never wanted it to end. He held me tightly and pressed himself against me, but I didn’t mind like I did when Mum’s friend Mrs Hudson-Smith’s wet son, Harold, tried to kiss me. That was like being smacked in the mouth with a wet fish. I couldn’t stand the idiot, but Mum wanted me to go to the school dance with him because she thought he was such a nice boy. He was a letch. I had the devil’s own job getting rid of him. Gross!
Scott sighed in my ear and I came back to the real world, leaving Harold behind and feeling nothing but Scott’s body so close to mine and feeling so right. I tried to breathe slowly and not to make a mess of the moment.
We walked along contentedly – at least I was feeling content – and as we passed the statue of Queen Victoria I told him the story of a friend of Mum’s whose ex-boyfriend drove the statue all the way from London, after the war, telling her he’d been followed by a fat old lady all the way. The girl was jealous until she realised it was Victoria.
‘I love all your stories,’ Scott said, looking around admiringly at the grounds, the sweeping lush lawns dotted with the huge Wellingtonia trees, oaks, pines, and the acres and acres of all variety of trees in the woodlands surrounding the colleges.
There were all colours of rhododendrons throughout the grounds as far as the eye could see, and we took in the two huge lakes with their secret islands in the middle where the ducks and swans lived. Scott gazed at the huge white building, the Old College, with the famous pillars and steps leading up to the main entrance where the Adjutant, on his white charger, climbs following the Officer Cadet Passing Out Parades. Then he looked over at The New College, with its red brick and tower overlooking the polo pitch.
‘Wow, this place is amazing, it’s gorgeous here. I can see why you love it.’ Scott waved his hand round as he surveyed the beauty of our surroundings.
I pointed to the cricket pavilion on our right, across the road from Queen Victoria and the first of the lakes. A match was being played by cadets and a visiting team – all in their whites. It was the perfect English summer scene.
‘Your Dad’s played cricket here, so Jasper said.’
‘Yes, gosh he’s got a big mouth. What else has he told you?’ I’m going to kill Jasper slowly, painfully, and with great pleasure. Such a big blabber.
‘Don’t blame him, I’ve picked his brains ever since I first met him. He and your little sister, Lucy, knocked on our door when we arrived here and asked if we wanted to come out and play!’ He laughed his head off at the memory. ‘Jasper comes every day to play football with us and hang out...and of course, act as my ‘messager.’ He’s a nice kid. They all are.’
In very small doses, maybe, I thought.
‘What’s that down there by the water?’ He pointed to the wooden boat house where the cadets kept their rowing boats.
‘It’s the boat house.’
Everything seemed to interest and delight him, it was infectious. Scott grabbed my hand and took off down the hill, dragging me towards the wooden building, laughing when I nearly ended up on the grass, my shoes sticking as we ran.
‘I’m going to break my neck, what’s the rush?’
‘Can we go inside?’ he asked trying the door. It was locked.
We walked round the back as a group of officer cadets came marching towards us in their check hacking jackets, slacks and flat caps – their ‘walking out’ gear. As soon as they passed, Scott pulled me to him and gave me the biggest bear-hug ever. Then he buried his face in my hair and gave me little light kisses all along my neck and face. It was unbearable. Then he found my mouth and I just went to another place for the longest, sweetest time.
After a while we sat on one of the benches facing the main lake and watched the swans and ducks. There was almost total silence – apart from the sound of the odd duck quacking and a few birds flying overhead, and the occasional thwack of a cricket ball on willow, the clapping of the spectators on the cricket pitch behind us across the road behind the trees. We might have been on another planet, all alone.
The water lapped gently at the edge of the lake and the fragrance of the newly mown grass and vegetation filled the warm air. Sunshine danced on the almost ripple free water in-between the water lilies, throwing soft reflections of the elegant, fluffy white swans, as they dipped now and again after fish, and the ducks went bottoms up when they spotted food.
I leaned against Scott, his arms circling me, as we watched the reflection of the Old College in the water just to the left of us, a perfect replica of the white building floating on the surface.
We chatted now and again and learned more about each other and each other’s family and background, and it was gradually easier for me to relax and enjoy myself in his company. We discovered we liked the same music and bands, and we both had the same albums by little known (in England) American rock bands. We enjoyed similar movies and books – mostly – and we both loved the countryside. I’d never felt like this before and it was a little confusing. I was beginning to feel as if I’d known him all my life. He said he felt it too. I had to put all thoughts of August out of my mind.
The perfection of the afternoon soon came to an end. The yellow van appeared on the road near Queen Victoria and Rich ran over to us waving his arms.
‘Been looking all over this place for you, I said don’t go too far into the grounds and here you are, almost out the other end!’ he panted, reaching us, a bit red in the face.
Scott stood up and looked down at me. ‘Gotta go, Renza. We’re playing in London tonight.’ He helped me up and put his arms around me, holding me tight.
‘Sorry love. You can get home all right, can’t you?’ Rich smiled at me, and started back to the van where I could see the band watching us.
‘Oh, yes of course, thanks,’ I said, not wanting Scott to go.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow, thanks for a lovely afternoon. Mind how you walk home.’
Scott kissed my forehead and then he was getting in the van, and with a honk of their horn he was gone, they were gone, and I was alone with the ducks and the swans and the hollow-sounding thwack of the cricket ball on the bat, on such a perfect summer afternoon.
Stella’s Diary
18th June 1968
‘Miss Deacon? Stella? How are you feeling, dear?’ The nurse peered down at me. ‘Can you breathe normally? At all?’
Flat on my back, staring at Oxford Radcliffe Infirmary’s cream ceiling and trying to ignore all the lights dazzling me, all the tubes attached to me, not to mention the weight-belt fastened round my waist and squeezing the life out of me, breathing was about the only thing I could do. I nodded.
‘Good,’ the nurse said briskly. ‘Nearly done now. They’ll just check the X-rays, and make sure they don’t need to repeat anything, and if it’s all clear then you can go. You’re not in pain?’
I shook my head. I’d had a pethidine injection prior to the investigation procedure. It was lovely. I was floating. W
hich was just as well as this particular test involved my kidneys being injected with dye and then a massive belt fastened round me and pumped up increasing the pressure to something akin to being sat on by a baby elephant – apparently so the doctors behind the screen could see exactly where the fluid went.
I’d been having various out-patient investigative tests on and off for almost two years. I’d had the agonising stomach pains for much longer, more or less since I’d started my periods. Once Dr Kingston, my doctor at home in Harbury Green, had decided they were neither growing pains, or each time I went to see her with yet more embarrassing non-stop periods, “simply part of becoming a woman”, she’d sent me to the Radcliffe for tests into everything else.
This one was for the kidneys. I was 19 years old and felt about 90. Probably looked it, too.
There was a bit of a flurry and several white-coated figures loomed over me.
‘Miss Deacon,’ a voice boomed. ‘Good news. Your kidneys, while showing slight inflammation, which isn’t unusual under the circumstances, are in otherwise fine fettle and functioning normally. I know – um, ah, yes, Dr Kingston, your local doctor has been treating you for suspected pyelonephritis and nephritis – and I’m delighted to tell you that today’s X-rays, combined with our previous tests, confirm that you have neither.’
I tried to smile. The pethidine made it difficult to move my lips. And anyway, if it wasn’t the kidneys giving me the crippling pains and making me faint, then what the heck was it?
The nurse bustled round undoing drips and the belt and generally freeing me from my shackles.
‘Sit up slowly,’ the white-coated doctor boomed. ‘And take it easy for the rest of the day. Don’t eat anything until this evening and just take a few sips of water if you’re thirsty. Your innards will take a bit of time to revert to normal after the weight belt. We’ll send a letter to your local surgery with today’s results and our findings generally. You clearly have a problem, Miss Deacon, and we feel we’ve exhausted all the tests we can do here. I think maybe the problem lies with your reproductive system. I’d like to refer you to my colleagues over at the Churchill.’
Only One Woman Page 5
