I asked him about Stella Deacon. I couldn’t help myself, it sort of shot out of my mouth before I could stop myself.
I said I’ve found out in a letter from his Mum, which arrived out of the blue a few days ago, that Stella’s been over to Jersey to stay with his family, and that she’s often at the Pinner flat for weekends. I told him I was interested to know if his eyesight has improved and if he’s managed to catch sight of the lesser spotted Stella lurking in Jersey and Pinner, since he’s always maintained he never sees her. I said I’m amazed his mum managed to have her as a house guest right under his very nose, without him knowing.
He was shocked, I could tell. He kept silent. Probably safer. Give yourself time to think up an excuse. So I said I was surprised Eva wanted to write to me, and he found his voice and said he thought it’s because she knows we’re getting married, and wants to get to know me. I said I’d not written back yet, but I would. I pressed him about Stella, reminding him to make an appointment at the optician’s, since he’s obviously going blind! He went very quiet again. This really annoyed me. I hate nagging but I couldn’t help myself.
He mumbled something which sounded like ‘I’ve never seen her in Pinner.’
‘Well’, I said, ‘she must be invisible or something, the flat surely wasn’t that big!’ The stay in Jersey was never satisfactorily explained. I could tell he really couldn’t think what to say. I told him Eva said Stella was apparently there on fan-club business for Stephan, and it was cheaper for Stella to stay with her than pay for a hotel. He muttered an apology for not telling me about Jersey because he knew it might upset me, but there’s nothing to worry about. He didn’t pass any comment when I told him I didn’t believe him. I didn’t want to nag him, so in the end let it all pass. For now. I’ll bide my time.
Stella Deacon. I keep trying to picture her and what she’s like. Older than me apparently, obviously very sophisticated, beautiful no doubt, and a writer too. I’ve gleaned something about her from what she writes in the band newsletters. She’s met so many famous people I just bet she’s the height of fashion.
Living in London the band has to be surrounded by beautiful and sophisticated women, all fashionable and really cool. How I hate being stuck in this bloody horrid backward place.
I really don’t know what to think about Stella and Scott. It keeps niggling in the back of my mind and I am trying to dismiss it, but there it is, popping up all the time; a little bit of the green-eyed monster is beginning to lurk there – it’s not very nice having such thoughts. Stella appears to be more involved with the band and especially Scott, and what he’s doing than he’s willing to tell me. The sooner I got back to England the better.
Stella’s Diary
October 17th 1969 – Pinner…
I’d sent out another batch of fan club letters – all about what Narnia’s Children might be doing in the future weeks because I actually don’t know and have only picked up some bits of gossip from Scott and the rest of the band – on my way to the station to catch the train to London and then on to Pinner. Yes – on a Friday – because I’d left the shoe shop! I’d got other things lined up and leaving that awful, awful shop was one of the best things I’d ever done.
I was starting to get myself sorted out at last.
I’d been to the flat in Pinner a few times since my birthday, just to see Scott and say hi really, but today’s visit was because I needed to clear up something I couldn’t do over the phone.
Narnia’s Children had the upstairs half of a big house on the main Pinner road: it was scruffy and a bit grubby and rather dingy and cold. There were three bedrooms and Scott shared the double with Mo. Zak and Joss had single rooms and live-in girlfriends now.
It simply wasn’t the same any more. It wasn’t just because there were other girls there – I took no notice of them and they had never really spoken to me – it was just – oh, I don’t know – weird. Such a strange atmosphere.
I honestly couldn’t be bothered to get to know the girls. I had nothing at all in common with them They were very glamorous and with-it and very confident and looked like models or pop stars and were about as far from the Dolly Rockers as you could get.
Although I had been amazed to discover that Zak’s now-live-in girlfriend – all fake tan and cropped bleached hair and way-out clothes – was Prue!
Yes, Prue! The neatly-dressed little Dolly Rocker from Lords who had stalked him so relentlessly! She’d changed out of all recognition – and never seemed very happy when I saw her. Maybe the reality wasn’t as fab as the dream had been? Was it ever?
Zak seemed to have changed too – no longer jokey and funny, he seemed short-tempered and angry most of the time, and Joss simply ignored me. Mo was still friendly, but it really was no longer the same.
Those lovely, innocent, carefree, magical happy days at Leighton Buzzard – and yes, Jersey – were just like a dream now. It was all harsh and unfriendly in that flat, and everyone seemed to be snarling at everyone else. Everything had changed. Including Scott, of course. Or at least, our relationship.
Previously, when I’d stayed in Pinner for the weekend, I’d slept alone on the lumpy sofa in the living room. Today I wouldn’t be staying at all.
I’d timed my arrival for mid-afternoon when the band should be up and about. They were – well, Mo and Scott were, watching a black and white film on the tiny television set. I rarely saw the other two in daylight and assumed they were still in bed with their ladies.
Mo went to make tea – so well trained – and I took off my fun fur and plonked down on the sofa beside Scott.
‘Hi,’ he looked at me. ‘Ok?’
‘Yep. You?’
‘Yeah.’
Oh, things had changed! The words to ‘Livin’ with You’ had never rung so true! ‘Those golden days we shared… are over now…’
‘Have you eaten?’ I knew it was a daft question.
Scott shook his head. ‘Not today. I think we had something yesterday.’
Mo came back with the tea in rather grubby mugs. ‘Food? Less food here than in Leighton Buzzard. And that kitchen is so small I couldn’t cook for all of us in there anyway. Are you offering?’
I smiled at them. ‘Well, there’s that Chinese take-away just round the corner. I passed it on my way here and it smelled really good.’
‘It’s great,’ Scott said. ‘But we rarely go there – we never have that much money to spend on take-aways.’
‘Some things never change. Look, while the others are out of the way – because I don’t intend feeding them, shall I go round and buy something for us? Prawn curry and rice suit you?’
‘God, yes.’ Mo laughed. ‘I do love you, Stella! I wish Scott could marry you and Renza!’
Scott winced.
‘No chance,’ I laughed, probably a little more heartily than needed. Goodness, this brave-face stuff was difficult. ‘No one gets to be that lucky. Sort out clean plates and forks then and as soon as we’ve finished our tea, I’ll drag Scott out with me to carry the food.’
It was cold outside and I shivered, and flinched at the noise of the non-stop traffic hurtling up and down the road. I honestly hated every single thing about this place.
Scott and I chatted as we walked to the take-away but we didn’t hold hands or anything like that. It was over. And it was still breaking my heart.
We returned to the flat with two carrier bags filled to the brim with Chinese food. Mo dished it up and said happily that anything left over could keep for later when they came back from the gig.
‘We’re playing in a really cool London club, tonight,’ Mo mumbled through his curry. ‘We’ve got a new roadie now, Art. He’s ok. He’s gone to get the van. Are you coming with us, Stella?’
‘No, not tonight.’ Or any other night. ‘I’m going home. I only came to feed you and to leave this…’
I indicated the bulging tote bag.
Both Mo and Scott barely looked up from their plates.
‘It�
�s the fan club stuff. All of it – except the things with my address on of course. Envelopes, stamps, newsletters, names and addresses, photos – everything.’
Scott frowned. ‘Why? Did Stephan ask you to bring it?’
‘No. But I’m not going to be your fan club secretary anymore.’
They both stared at me.
‘I can’t carry on with it. It wouldn’t be right. I hardly know anything about what the band is doing now and I probably won’t have time anyway. You’ll find someone else to take it on. It’s been great fun.’
And my only remaining point of contact with the band. The last tenuous link was being broken.
‘You don’t have to do this?’ Scott looked quite upset. ‘You’ve been ace at it. Who’s going to do it now?’
I shrugged. ‘Renza? Prue? Someone who is with you all the time and knows everything about you – like I used to. Honestly, I can’t carry on making things up – you need someone to take it on and handle it properly. God knows, you work your socks off for peanuts – you need all the PR help you can get. Just not from me.’
They looked a bit upset but neither of them argued with me.
I pushed my plate away. ‘And now I think I can hear stirrings from Zak and Joss – so before they or their women emerge, I’ll leave you to finish your food and dash – I don’t want to miss the Paddington train.’
I stood up, pulled my coat on and headed for the staircase.
‘Stella!’ Scott called after me. ‘Hang on!’
‘Got to run,’ I called over my shoulder. ‘Have a great gig tonight. I’ll ring you. Bye…’
And I was out of the door and down the road before the tears blinded me. Again.
Renza’s Diary
October 20th 1969
What a week. I am exhausted from babysitting in-between attending the various events put on to celebrate the Silver Jubilee of the base.
We’ve had a round of cocktail parties with special musical interludes put on by various military bands and orchestras, and I’ve eaten far too much and had too many Bloody Mary’s and Snowballs.
I’ve been able to wear my new green silk cocktail dress with the georgette sleeves and my dark blue taffeta which is ballerina length and which makes me feel like Audrey Hepburn when I put it on.
There’ve been formal dances, with the men in black tie and the ladies in full length evening dress and I’ve worn my long black and gold skirt as well as a full length evening dress Heidi hired for me from a friend’s boutique in Cologne. I danced with the Brigadier who thought I was a German working on the base, and now I know why he always speaks to me in German whenever he meets me in the lift or on the stairs at work. I thought he was testing my German and I’ve really struggled to understand him, let alone answer him most of the time, besides he has a broad Yorkshire accent, and so his German sounds nothing like I’ve ever heard before. He had a shock when I said I was English! Silly bugger.
I’ve danced with the local mayor, the drunken postmaster from the village up the hill, and been propositioned by the latest resident drunk in the Mess. I’ve been the youngest at all these events and so game for all the lecherous men wanting an excuse to grope me on the dance floor in full view of the top brass. Delightful. I can’t wait to tell Scott.
I’ve made quite a bit from babysitting too. I wasn’t able to go to every event – there have been dozens during the day too – so it’s been quite lucrative.
Renza’s Diary
November 7th 1969
I’ve been thinking seriously about Scott and me (again) and how things are going and especially about the elusive Stella. Something needs to be done, things cannot go on like this. Yes, I know I keep saying it but I’ll end up in the loony bin. Besides, this place is killing me, it’s like being buried alive and if I don’t get back to civilisation soon I’ll end up old and shrivelled, even though the Jubilee celebrations were a welcome diversion from the day to day drudge of it all here. I’m too young to be stuck with the oldies doing fogey stuff all the time. It’s really not cool. Get a grip girl!
I wrote to Scott to tell him I’ll try to make it for Christmas, that we needed to talk and sort ourselves out – again – because I’m confused and he can’t keep telling me he loves me and there’s no one else – not even Stella. Right! I need to plan my future, I can’t stand it here much longer and, with or without him, I have to change my life. I’ve asked about time off and my uncle said I could ‘go to them’ for at least part of the time. I just need to see if I can get a lift back – I’ve got £25 saved so far which is enough for the fare and everything.
I can’t wait to see Scott again and to spend more time with him and perhaps even.....well, we’ll see! The thought sends me!
Then I come crashing down thinking about bloody Stella. I have to get answers. Until then there’ll be nothing like that!
The band have been playing in Devon, and also in a posh club in London where there is an open top pink Jaguar car in the middle of the dance floor and the DJ plays records from a turntable inside it. Lots of famous people go there, like Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithfull, and apparently Zak has got friendly with Mick and Marianne’s au pair!!! Grief!
Scott’s last letter was full of their adventures in the hippest city on the planet. And where was I? Stuck in the 1930’s!
Dave Cash from Radio One has been playing ‘Livin’ with You’ a lot, and so have many of other shows as well. Their fans seem to really like it. The band’s happy.
Scott has just got the Abbey Road LP by The Beatles and loves it. ‘Hey Jude’ was on when he was writing to me. I haven’t bought it. I’m not sure if I want to buy it really. I love The Beatles but what I’ve heard hasn’t grabbed me or turned me on enough to buy it yet.
Stella Deacon wrote a Newsletter to the kids, last month, which said the band might be going on the cruises on The Northern Star and The Southern Cross again at the end of the year. If this happens, how Scott thinks I’d be able to see him I just don’t know. Stella said they might be going to some really amazing places again and she will write more about it later when they know what’s definitely happening.
I think I’ll ask Scott about this when I ring him next week. He’s sure to have heard about it by then – Stella, whom he hardly knows exists, seems to know more of his business that he does! I know it’s petty but she is beginning to do my head in. I know it’s her job and of course she sees the band, but he hasn’t helped by being so cagey. I wish he could put my mind at rest. That’s why we need to see each other.
It’s a small world! Our new neighbours, who arrived last month, and have a small daughter who plays with Lucy, chatted to mum and me by the front step this evening, and Herbert, who works with Dad, said that Jasper – why am I not surprised! – told him my boyfriend was in a band, and he asked me if I knew someone called Geoff Green who was in a band his brother knows called Blue Bicycle.
Wait until Scott hears about this! Narnia’s Children played with them way back, he will be so surprised. The bloke is now managing Pavement, and he was once in another band called Big Smoke.
Herbert’s wife is from somewhere exotic like Thailand and she really made us all laugh the other day. She said she didn’t like her flat because it was haunted and she’s had to move into the spare room because of the horrible rumbling noise all night long.
As she started to describe it, Mum and I tried to hide our giggles. My parent’s room shared a wall with Herbert and his wife’s room, and we knew she could hear Dad snoring. He sounds like a train rumbling at high speed and when he was in the army in Korea, he used to wake up surrounded by boots where the blokes had pelted him with them, trying to shut him up.
We feel sorry for Herbert’s wife as her English isn’t good and she appears a lot younger than her husband. A few weeks ago she ran to ask mum for help when her little girl was ill. She’d been to see the German doctor in town and got a prescription for suppositories to bring her high temperature down. . After ages trying to get the chi
ld to take them, during which time she’d been violently sick, she’d come to ask Mum what to do. Imagine Mum’s amazement when she realised that she had been trying to force the suppositories down the girl’s throat instead of putting them up her rear end!
The waxy pellets were huge; no wonder the poor child was vomiting!
I know I shouldn’t think such things, but they are a weird family. Lucy came in the other day and asked if she could water their flowers and I filled a watering can and went with her to the flower bed Herbert had been digging and planting all afternoon, to help her hold the can. Even she knew the flowers were plastic, she couldn’t stop giggling. Herbert had planted endless rows of plastic flowers. I thought bugger it and let Lucy tip water all over them. I can’t wait for his wife to pick them for indoors.
Stella’s Diary
December 6th 1969
Oh the irony! A year ago to the day – if not exactly the date – a year ago tonight, I thought I was going to die and I’d gone to the dance at St B’s with Vix – and my life had changed for ever.
So much had happened in that year – most of it mad, and crazy and wonderful and magical and exciting. I’d said I’d have adventures if I survived – and I had. Ok, some of it had been complete rubbish and heartbreakingly sad – as is well documented in this diary – but looking back, I wouldn’t change a thing. Well, maybe one – but there’s no point in thinking like that.
No, it’s been the best year of my life and one I’ll never forget.
And now, a year on, in the darkening afternoon of the same sort of bleak, icy cold December day, it had come full circle. I was walking up that teeming busy road in Pinner for the last time.
This was the day I’d been dreading for ages – today I knew I’d be saying goodbye to Scott for ever. I hadn’t told him – yet – but I doubted if it would come as a huge surprise. I knew, deep down, he’d welcome it.
Only One Woman Page 44
