She was smoking a clay pipe which she tapped on her hat every now and again, and which she had to relight several times. She offered Mum a couple of puffs much to the amusement of the other ladies. Suffice to say Mum was not impressed at all. Besides, Mum had white gloves on covering her wrists which were still bandaged and I think she was worried people would draw the wrong conclusions about her accident, so was keeping the evidence covered up.
Mum never went out without a hat of some sort. Today she was wearing a pink feather thing which was like a large Alice band – like Audrey Hepburn wore a lot – and it matched her pink two piece suit. She had navy stiletto shoes on and a matching navy handbag. Fully made up, without a hair out of place, she could’ve been going to London for afternoon tea.
‘Dun up to the nines, missus,’ observed Ma Lee, giving Mum the once over and nodding to herself, ‘where’s you orf to then?’
‘Shoe shopping at Barratts,’ Mum replied, fully aware of the stares she was getting as everyone tuned in to the conversation.
‘So you ain’t no ghost then after-all.’ Ma Lee looked relieved.
‘Ghost? What one earth are you on about Ma?’ Mum was puzzled.
‘When you died, Missus, so youse come back then, but yer say youse no ghost.’ Ma took long puffs on the pipe and blew smoke at Mum.
I tried to hide my smirk but it was hard because several others were struggling not to grin as well. Old Ma Lee was a notorious believer in ghosts and spirits and ill winds. Her grandmother had second sight apparently and sometimes Ma Lee said she had it as well.
‘I’m sorry Ma, but I’ve no idea what you are on about,’ Mum said frostily, looking at her watch and then making a show of watching for the bus.
‘When yer done yerselft in t’other day, Missus.’ Ma sought agreement from the ladies in the queue, nodding towards them encouragingly.
I thought I was going to burst. Oh my goodness, this was too funny for words.
‘When I done, erm did, myself in?’ Mum asked in amazement. ‘I never did myself in. What are you on about Ma?’ Mum had a quick look round, and shook her head at the others, in a sort of ‘what on earth is the woman on about?’ look.
No one moved a muscle. Seven pairs of eyes and ears were trained on Mum and Old Ma Lee by now. Waiting.
‘Our Effy dunned herselft in.’ Old Ma Lee crept closer to Mum who was backed up to the bus shelter wall by now, with no escape.
The whole bus queue shifted closer so they could hear better. As usual the bus was late so Mum probably had no hope of salvation any time soon.
‘She comes back all the time,’ Ma informed us all wisely.
‘Oh Ma, you are so funny, and you will have your little jokes,’ Mum tried to turn the tables, ‘you and your ghosts and ghoulies.’
‘I ain’t worried by no family ghosts and ghoulies missus, just a worried youse gorn and made yerselft into yon spirit, and then come back again as I can see with my own eyes.’ Ma peered closely at Mum and several heads leaned closer to have a better look as well. ‘Youse gorn and dieded, and comed back again then?’ she asked, poking Mum in the chest with her clay pipe. ‘Is that it?’
Mum tried to side-step her but a rubbish bin prevented her from moving, so she had to remain jammed up against the wooden shelter.
Old Ma Lee rummaged in her basket and pulled out some heather wrapped in newspaper, and shoved it at Mum who was forced to accept it. The paper was wet and soggy where Ma had watered the heather. I wondered whose garden she had pinched it from.
‘For youse to get yerselft back from the dead a-permedly,’ she told Mum, looking round at the others, ‘coz she mighten be called back again and she needs protectionation from the other side,’ Ma informed us all.
My stomach was hurting from suppressed giggling and my face ached as well. I daren’t look at the others as I could feel their mirth in the air. It was all too funny. Such a blast. Trust Mum to get caught by Ma on one of her ‘Spiritual’ days. I’m going to miss all this when we’re in Germany.
‘Really Ma, you do come out with some corkers.’ Mum tried to laugh it off as Ma blew more smoke in her face.
‘Ain’t no corker missus, ‘tis the truth so help me.’ Ma tapped her trilby three times and stamped her feet. I’ve seen her do this before. No idea why. ‘Youse don’t want being carried off into the darkness again, it ain’t right and youse can’t keep a-coming back neither.’ She put her pipe into her skirt pocket and put her basket on the ground whilst she tapped her hat with both hands and turned round twice. ‘Now youse don’t go a killing yerselft again – tell Ma you won’t.’
Major Piggott-Brown’s wife stuck her head into her handbag, apparently searching for something at this point, and Miss Dashwood placed her hanky to her nose so she could giggle in secret. Several other ladies did their best not to openly laugh. As did I. Poor Mum, she was beside herself at the thought that everyone now believed she had tried to do herself in. Of course no one believed she had died and come back from the dead. Well, no one except me and Ma Lee – I secretly agreed with her thinking – Mum could well be something from ‘the other side’.
A steady stream of smoke started to appear from Ma’s pocket and I wondered if I should let her know. I think she’d forgotten her lighted pipe. A couple of the ladies nudged each other when they noticed the smoke, but no one said anything. I stared at Ma hoping she would notice me looking and I could tell her she seemed to be on fire, but she was muttering to herself and trying to wave her hands over Mum’s head, but she was far too short to reach and was tottering on her tiptoes in the attempt. The army boots not being conducive to going up on pointes, Ma made a very comical prima ballerina as she tried to carry out her exorcism.
I had to stop myself humming ‘Fire,’ by The Crazy World of Arthur Brown. The singer used to set himself on fire as part of their stage act. Yvette saw them at The Top Rank in June and she said something went wrong and his hair caught alight and suddenly the Fire Brigade was spraying extinguisher all over him – just too funny.
Mum kept trying to duck and dive, mindful I think of her recent perm and her new hat. Suddenly Ma reached into her pocket and grabbed her pipe, patting her skirt rapidly – realising she might be about to go up in flames – she must’ve felt the heat. She was hopping from one foot to the other as she tried to waft the pipe over Mum’s head, tipping ash all over the place. Mum started to complain. I couldn’t speak or look away. It was such a blast. Mum’s wild eyes kept appealing to me but I was beyond helping her. I was on the verge of hysterics.
A bicycle bell sounded and we all looked round to see Miss Glossop on her ‘sit up and beg’, wearing her red fez and long black cloak which she wore in all weathers. Her bright red cupid-bow lips greeted everyone with a cheery smile, and an expansive wave of her hand as she passed by. Her little Scottie dog was sitting on the child’s seat behind her, wearing a blue fez and a tartan coat. He yapped wildly as we all stared after them.
Her intervention gave Mum the chance she needed to escape from Old Ma Lee’s ministrations, and she rushed to my side. Before anyone could say or do anything else, the bus arrived.
All the way to town I had to listen to Mum doing her pieces about Old Ma Lee and what she had been saying. Priceless. If I ever get to write a book Old Ma Lee’s going to be in it and all the Gypsies will be too. They’re such characters.
I hate shopping of any description and especially when I’m with someone else. Mum drives me nuts whenever we go together, which I try to avoid like a dose of acne. Barratts didn’t have anything she fancied and didn’t stock tights – or as the sniffy assistant told us, ‘pantyhose’ – so we ended up in every shoe shop in town. She must have tried on a hundred pairs of shoes in every colour and design known to man before she settled upon a pair of black patent leather court shoes. Nothing special as far as I could see and I swear she’d already tried similar shoes on in Clarks two hours ago. We both managed to buy half a dozen pairs of ‘pantyhose’ each along the way. So goodbye s
uspenders and stockings – praise the Lord and pass the gravy, as Nan would say.
On the way back to the bus stop we met up with one of Mum’s friends – as you do – and stood for ages whilst they chatted and discussed all the goings on in the village, every now and again uttering sounds of shock and horror as some poor devil’s business was chewed over. We were outside the cinema and I wandered off to look at the posters for the forthcoming films on release in England later in the year. Not that I would be around to see any of them. I wondered if the Germans had a cinema near us or if they even had English language films.
Every now and again a car would go past, tooting the horn. This may well have been directed at Mother – she thought it was, I think – and sometimes boys would shout out – obviously to me. Mum would give me the evil eye as if it was my fault.
A couple of ‘group’ vans went past as well, covered in writing by fans and with the name of the group written on the sides. Quite exciting really.
Another lady joined Mum and her friend, whose name escaped me, and soon she was laughing or tut tutting, depending on who and what they were discussing. I recognised the newcomer as being the wife of a local celebrity who was a former Canadian Cowboy called Cheyanne Harry, who used to entertain the cinema queue by doing tricks with his lasso during WW2, capping it all off by whipping a cigarette out of his wife’s mouth with the lasso. They lived in a caravan down the lane beside the ford and had travelled all over the place doing their act. Cheyanne Harry had been stationed in the area during the war, marrying a local girl, and staying here when the war ended.
I couldn’t help wondering what Scott would make of all these weird people. Perhaps there were weird people living near him in Jersey. I wondered if I’d ever find out.
After dinner I looked out to see if the band had come back, but there wasn’t any sign of the van in the car park at the back of the shops. I felt really fed-up wondering if they’d come back during the night or later tomorrow some time. I hoped they’d be back by the morning because they were all going on some cruises later in the week and I wouldn’t see Scott for ages, and I didn’t want to miss a single minute with him before then.
He’d said they were going to Lisbon, Tangier and Madeira, stopping off at all sorts of wonderful places on the way there and back, and that lots of rich and famous people would be on the cruise and it was a great chance for them to make some money and new fans. I guessed so. He’d be back before we went to Germany and that was all I cared about. I wished I could go with him but as I couldn’t, I couldn’t care less about the stupid cruise. I wondered if the girl in the flat was going with them. I hoped not. I wanted to know which one in the band she was ‘with’ – although as long as it wasn’t Scott, I didn’t care.
Renza’s Diary
July 7th 1968
Narnia’s Children headed off before it was light on their way to Southampton where they were to board the SS Northern Star for their cruise to Lisbon, Tangier, and Madeira. I heard Bessie backfiring as she passed the front of the house and I ran to catch a glimpse of them but to no avail. There wasn’t enough light to see into the van so I went back to bed feeling Scott’s loss already.
He’d spent the last evening with me walking around the College grounds – our usual ‘date’ – arms around me, telling me how much he would miss me and that he’d send me postcards from every port, and how miserable he was going to be, and that he just knew he wouldn’t enjoy any of it.
All I worried about was some rich girl getting off with him so that he would soon forget me and when he got back he wouldn’t want to know me. Scott reassured me, well, tried to, and told me that Stephan, the group’s manager, and Rich were staying behind and would be in the flat and they’d keep an eye on me and help Mum if she needed anything doing.
I found out that the girl in the flat was ‘with’ Zak at the moment. I laughed at ‘at the moment’ and thought that just about summed him up from what I could tell. Another one who’d be history within a day or so. According to Scott, they never lasted. I never saw her or any of the others. Trust Mum to see it all.
I couldn’t help wondering if I might soon be history too, after the cruise. Nothing seemed real, and far too good to last knowing my luck…I know, I’m being ‘negative.’ But I can’t help having ‘wobbles.’
The cruise was going to last ten days and as well as the ports Scott told me about, they would be stopping off at other places on the way out and on the way back. He said that they would be playing for the crew in what is called ‘The Pig’ – where the crew have a club with a bar and stage – as well as playing for the paying guests on the cruise. They had to play in the evenings for passengers and then in the early hours of the morning for the crew. The rest of the time they could do what they wanted.
All this sounded wonderful, all those exotic places I could only imagine. Just like Whicker’s World with Alan Whicker on TV when he travels all over the world, showing us what life is like in far off places. It’s not that I haven’t travelled, I have, but when I was much younger. We even lived in Singapore, before the others were born, and Germany – once before – and although I can recall bits and pieces it’s not like being older and really being able to appreciate it all.
I’m going to miss Scott when he’s away, he’s the only person I’ve ever really been close to and can talk to – who has ever said they cared for me. Scott said I belong to him now. I’ve never belonged to anyone before. I love that feeling. He makes me happy. He likes all the things I like: reading, movies, looking at the stars, history and, although he doesn’t write stories, he writes songs and they’re just like stories I think. We could talk forever once we get started.
I put the transistor on quietly and listened to The Walker Brothers, they are so gorgeous, singing ‘I Will Wait for You,’ such a melancholy song.
Scott says he’s not alone any more, but he will be when I go in August. I don’t want to leave him. I wish we could just be together, somewhere on our own. His family seems a bit messed up, that’s why the band means so much to him I’m sure. I never imagined someone like Scott could ever be lonely, but now I know he has been just like me.
I have my brothers and sisters I suppose, but they’re not really much company, and Mum and Dad are too wrapped up in their own lives to bother with me. I’ve always wished for something in my life to make up for my crushing loneliness. It helps to write it down here and get it off my chest, but now I have someone to talk to: Scott. I just know I shall read my diary over and over whilst he’s away. Just to be close to him.
Tony Blackburn is playing The Zombies, ‘Time of The Season’, and all I can think of is Scott’s arms around me yesterday, his gentle breath in my ear as he whispered the words of their song to me, before his earthquake of a kiss.
Time to get up soon and face the next ten days without the love of my life.
Stella’s Diary
Saturday 12th July 1968
Still no word from the Churchill Hospital about my appointment, but I’d had a good day today. I’d been taking Feminax every time I’d had really bad pains and they worked! Mum had said I shouldn’t overdo them as obviously I might become addicted – but honestly, until someone came up with something else to stop me being in agony, then I’d take the risk.
There was the problem of being spaced-out most of the time. However, I could get away with that at work, it was a very relaxed office – that was an understatement! I couldn’t always get away with being away with the fairies when I was out with Mike though – he got a bit ratty when I fell asleep in the car!
Mike picked me up from home tonight – I wasn’t quite ready so he had a few minutes to chat to Mum and Dad – well, they did most of the chatting, Mike doesn’t say much. They do like him, though – they think he’s “steady”.
I’m not sure “steady” is a compliment, actually. My dad is anything but steady – being a bit of a drifter job-wise – and a bit of a joker, and big and gentle and well, just carefree – I thi
nk he’s like Mr Micawber. And Mum is just a lovely fluffy smiley person who cooks a lot and takes in waifs and strays, and wants everyone in the word to be well-fed and happy.
Vix says our house is like living in The Darling Buds of May.
Anyway, when I came downstairs, Mike looked quite relieved and actually said I looked nice! I was wearing the polka-dot coat dress again so he obviously hadn’t taken much notice of it last time. I’d sighed and said thanks and that he didn’t look too bad either.
Which he didn’t. He was wearing his faded Levis and a black jumper – and he looked – well – conservatively neat. And, yes, ok – steady.
Tonight we’d been to see a film in Ashworthy – our neighbouring town – as Harbury Green doesn’t have a cinema. Just the two of us. No Sam and Patsy tonight! I’d leaned my head on his shoulder in the darkness and thought if I hated the film I could fall asleep and he wouldn’t notice.
The film was my choice: Up The Junction. If I’d left it to Mike it would have been Zombie Creatures from the Black Lagoon or a Western or something full of blood and guts.
Anyway, there was no chance of me falling asleep! What a film! I loved it! Oh, if only I could write something like that… Ok, it wasn’t cheerful or very romantic and it certainly didn’t end happily – but it was so real!
In the car on the way home, with the radio on in the background – it was all smooth and smoochy stuff tonight: Louis Armstrong and Herb Alpert. I chattered about the film to Mike. How Adrienne Posta reminded me of Vix, and how Suzy Kendall – the rich girl who’d chosen to slum it in a working-class area just to see what it was like – had been lucky to be able to choose to change her lifestyle, knowing that she could always escape back if she wanted to. And how sad it was, that her boyfriend ended up in prison, and how awful it was for Adrienne Posta’s character to get pregnant and be so scared.
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