Johnny and The USed Wonz

by DaNeo Duran

  What could Patrick do but listen?

  ‘Johnny pick-pocketed Kyle’s wallet. The fake ID kept him off the sent until he ran face-to-face into both goons outside Linda’s office on Friday.’

  Patrick felt sick. He couldn’t tell at what moment his supposed inauguration had become a disciplinary hearing and couldn’t tell if he had a chance of escaping this mess.

  ‘Patrick, if you have anything to do with this we’ll find out, even if it means bringing Johnny Won here to meet you personally or the brothers pointing at you in court. And, though it’ll be hard to prove whether Johnny was cheated in a game of poker as he’s suggesting, I should also warn you that the Lincoln that took these criminals into Kansas City was stolen and the Atherton brothers have been charged with its theft.’

  Patrick nodded.

  ‘I can see how cheating The USed Wonz out of their advance would strengthen your application for this position.’

  ‘You don’t need to check the accounts,’ Patrick’s voice croaked.

  ‘No?’

  ‘I paid Earl’s bail from my own money.’

  Chase scribbled away.

  Wednesday 15th August 1984

  One morning weeks later, in a three bed semidetached house near Carlisle’s Morton Park, Mrs Linah Clarke nearing the end of her patience yelled at her two daughters to go and play in the garden.

  Teachers’ six week summer holiday may have been the envy of the rest of the working population but for Linah it meant more hard work.

  Tired of telling the girls to clean their rooms she set to the task herself. Upstairs in Sharon’s room she tossed toys into boxes and rubbish into the rapidly filling bin.

  From Tracey’s room she threw rubbish behind her. A magazine fluttered towards the ceiling landing spread-eagle in the hall with the other rubbish.

  Soon, stuffing a bin-bag, Linah snatched the magazine and huffed.

  Why would her six-year-old girl have such a magazine? She shut it. Smash Hits.

  Little Spirit’s three faces grinned at her. She guessed the babysitter must have left it. But, just as she moved to bin it she stopped. Could her mind be playing tricks? An echo from years ago? What had she seen before she looked at the cover?

  Linah pulled her Marigolds off. What page? She willed her unfounded hope to cool down.

  Flicking through the pages she rejected photos and articles. Past Madonna’s double-page spread she went. Then, her eyes landed on the picture she’d seen.

  Four youths. Two girls and two men looked out from a full length shot, their faces smaller than her thumbnail. Ignoring three she focused on one as her mind rewound the image estimating how the young man might have looked a decade earlier.

  Her internal dialogue went crazy. It can’t be, no but it might be, it won’t be, it could, it isn’t, you don’t know that, forget it.

  I have to check.

  She read the article praising The USed Wonz first album. Back from a second American tour to record their next album they’d return to the States as soon as they’d completed a series of dates on Little Spirit’s UK tour.

  The cover suggested the magazine must have been lying around a month. She flicked through it again looking for tour dates but couldn’t find anything useful.

  She put the magazine in her bedroom and looked at the sunny blue sky.

  Through the backdoor she shouted, ‘Come on kids. We’re going shopping, Mummy has to check something.’

  * * *

  Linah strode through Carlisle’s streets as fast as her four-year-old could manage. In WHSmiths she found The USed Wonz’ album.

  ‘Stay right by Mummy’s side,’ she said staring at the photos as her disbelieving mind wrangled possibilities.

  Finally she said, ‘Right, let’s buy this record.’

  She also picked up Melody Maker and found Little Spirit’s tour dates.

  ‘Where now?’ Tracey asked.

  ‘The library.’

  * * *

  That evening Linah sat at the dining table with her husband.

  ‘You really think this could be him?’ Brian said running a hand over his greying temples. ‘We mightn’t have changed much in ten years but he’d be nearly twice the age he was last time you saw him.’

  ‘I know. It probably isn’t him. But they’re playing Newcastle’s City Hall.’

  ‘You think we should go?’

  Linah bit her lip.

  ‘You want to do this alone don’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry Brian it’s for the best. The things I need to tell him are too sensitive.’

  ‘About his dad?’

  ‘Of course. He probably won’t know if he’s alive or dead.’

  ‘Okay, you go. I’ll stay and look after the kids. I’ve always known how important this is to you.’

  ‘Thanks Brian.’

  Her husband studied the album’s cover again. ‘I could almost be jealous of this guy.’

  Linah held his hand. ‘He was eleven when I first saw him and fourteen when I last saw him.’

  ‘He don’t look fourteen now though.’

  ‘As I’ve said, it probably isn’t even him, and if it is he might not want to see me.’

  ‘Okay well book a hotel and let me know how it goes. I’ll bring you right back if necessary.’

  ‘I’ll book one tomorrow. Thanks,’ she said not letting on she’d already done it.

  Thursday 30th August 1984

  A fortnight after discovering the Smash Hits magazine Linah got up and readied her husband for work.

  ‘Good luck tonight love,’ he said as she handed him his packed lunch.

  ‘I’ll be back before you finish work tomorrow.’ She kissed him and told him she loved him.

  After preparing the girls’ breakfasts she picked up her suitcase ready to face what had consumed her thoughts for days.

  If Johnny Won turned out to be Barry Peters then her approach would have to be conducted with extraordinary sympathy. His band might not know of his former identity.

  Given how well he’d hidden himself he certainly wouldn’t want to discuss history in front of present life companions. And how do you reach rock stars? The staff of the City Hall wouldn’t be doing their jobs if they let her straight through to see him.

  Since marrying, she and Brian hadn’t spent a night away from one another. She could tell how uncomfortable he felt about that. To ease his mind she’d packed her case the previous night with her oldest, comfiest underwear. But appearance mattered. She wanted to look professional yet nonthreatening – familiar.

  She hoped what she’d chosen would help the young man recognise and remember the woman who’d cared for his schooling when most other teachers had written him off.

  With her bedraggled hair tied back she left the house with two daughters and no makeup.

  By 11am she’d dropped the kids off with Brian’s parents, caught a train and visited the Tourist Information in Newcastle’s Central Station where she studied the streets and learned that Simon Alden managed the City Hall venue.

  She hotfooted along Grainger Street and checked into the Posthouse Hotel pleased to discover they had her room ready. She showered and changed into a striped blouse and long navy skirt. In the mirror she thought she looked like a tired school teacher.

  Makeup and nails helped. She then thought she looked like a nice school teacher.

  Before leaving she pulled on tall heeled boots. That made a difference. Now she thought she looked like a nice teacher but with a bit of attitude; maybe the touch of sass she’d had ten years earlier.

  With an almost completed image she checked her map, swished her still wrong hair and left for the salon she’d booked herself into days earlier.

  Before 2pm the salon’s mirror reflected shining hair that looked to be waving by design rather than accident.

  Next she arrived at Newcastle’s City Hall where she discovered not to her surprise, groups of kids milling around the back doors. She might have expected a lorry of sorts b
ut couldn’t see anything.

  Round the front she found the doors open. Clearly the kids knew better than a frontal assault if they wanted to see their rock idols.

  Linah walked through the main entrance and saw a middle-aged woman sweeping the stairs.

  ‘Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt,’ Linah said.

  ‘Don’t worry about it like,’ the woman said in an accent that sounded more like, divarnt worry boot it leek.

  ’I need to speak urgently with Mr Alden.’

  Linah stayed put whilst the woman vanished to the offices.

  ‘Afternoon,’ a ginger haired man said approaching a minute later. He held out his hand for her to shake.

  ‘Mr Alden,’ she said relieved.

  ‘Call me Simon. My staff didn’t tell me what this is regarding, just that it’s urgent?’

  ‘Well yes,’ Linah said noting that he hadn’t asked her name, ‘as you can see I’m a thirty-eight year professional woman.’

  ‘A fine one too.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said noticing his wedding ring. ‘The point is I’m not some lovesick teenager. But it is critically important I get a message to one of tonight’s performers and I must do that face to face.’

  ‘I see,’ he said in a darkened tone. ‘Which band?’

  ‘The USed Wonz.’

  ‘Okay, at least they’re the support act,’ he said. He looked at his watch. ‘They haven’t arrived yet. Come back in an hour or two. I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘I’ll wait, if you don’t mind,’ she said taking a Dick Francis novel from her handbag.

  * * *

  An hour later the bands arrived, together. Linah heard vehicles and commotion. Kids started appearing in the foyer shouting both band names. Simon Alden appeared with a security guard. As they shooed the fans outside Alden closed the doors on them.

  ‘I’m afraid I must ask you to leave,’ he said turning to Linah.

  ‘I beg your pardon. I’ve waited here an hour,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, but I can’t turf some out but not others. Please don’t make this difficult for me.’

  ‘Difficult, you can’t imagine the years I’ve waited or what I’ve been through to get this chance.’

  ‘With all due respect—’

  ‘All due respect, what did I just say?’ Linah stood as the security guard stepped forwards.

  Alden said, ‘Come back when the doors open at show time, we’ll try again then.’

  The guard made to take her arm.

  ‘Wait,’ she protested. ‘I can’t afford to miss this opportunity. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.’ From her handbag she produced a sheet of paper. ‘Please will you at least pass this to the singer?’

  Alden kept his hand by his sides. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Something he made for me twelve years ago.’

  ‘You’re not his mother; you’re too young.’

  ‘No, but she died twelve years ago. Please.’

  Alden glanced at her hand but waved the page away. He stood for a full ten seconds then pulled a radio from his belt. ‘Theatre, come in, over.’

  A moment later the radio cracked. ‘Theatre.’

  ‘Send someone from The USed Wonz management to the foyer, over.’

  ‘Will do, over and out.’

  Linah shook as anger subsided to relief before souring to anxiety.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  She folded the paper in the pages of her book.

  A moment later a door to the main hall opened. A pretty redheaded youth appeared and introduced herself to Alden as Grace.

  ‘This lady has a request,’ he said.

  Alden left them shaking hands. Linah gave her married name and explained nothing more than necessary.

  Grace led her through the doors into the concert hall.

  ‘Take a seat,’ she said motioning to the back row. ‘I’ll get him or be back myself in a sec.’

  * * *

  The USed Wonz had dumped their gear in the larger of the two dressing rooms but joined Little Spirit in theirs.

  Johnny hadn’t given much thought when a stagehand summoned Grace from Raphael’s knee. He’d been too busy laughing along to Danny’s tail of winning Amy’s heart.

  Admiring his persistence Johnny figured he’d give it one last try with Linda when they hit America again. Next, Calvin had them all howling with laughter but soon stopped when, in came Grace asking for a private word.

  * * *

  Linah stood up. Squinting towards the stage she could see Grace with a tall handsome man. Staying put she watched the redhead point her way. With a hug Grace patted his back then retreating backstage.

  The man straightened and approached.

  Oh my god it’s him, Linah thought before doubting herself. Could it be possible her mind would make her believe something not true? She searched his face for signs that he recognised her.

  Then it happened. His stride slowed.

  With a virtually unreadable expression Linah sensed the cogs of his mind whirring; old synapses re-firing. He recognised her. They recognised each other.

  ‘Miss Wilkinson,’ he said.

  She nodded fearing she might speak his birth name. Her hand rose on its own.

  Reaching forwards the man took the piece of paper it offered.

  He read silently but Linah’s mind sang the words: How can he say there’s no faith, when you give me faith with your words? How can he say there’s no hope, when you give me hope with your thoughts? How can he say there’s no love, when you give me love with your touch . . ?

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, ‘pretty good, for a first go.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re album’s pretty good too.’

  ‘Yeah? You should hear the one we’re working on now.’

  She didn’t speak.

  He said. ‘I always knew this day would come.’

  She nodded.

  ‘There’s been so much interest in us since we came back from America.’

  Again she didn’t speak.

  ‘I’m so glad it’s you and not the press or police.’

  ‘Only my husband knows I’m here and he won’t breath a word,’ she said. ‘If you prefer, I’ll tell him you turned out not to be …’ She stopped herself saying his old name.

  ‘I can’t go back.’

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘Do you understand why?’

  ‘Sort of. Not really. But seeing you, I don’t doubt how desperately serious you are about that.’ She sat down. ‘And that you don’t trust me.’

  Johnny looked at his ex-teacher. He sat across the aisle from her.

  ‘I found you in Smash Hits,’ she said.

  ‘I feared someone might.’

  ‘I had to see you.’ She gave him a hard look, but continued. ‘What a relief you’re so well and doing something you love.’

  ‘We’ve worked hard. There’s always something threatening to ruin it; be that management, record company changes or our agent’s company suffering.’

  Linah understood the implication. ‘I won’t interfere with that.’

  After a moment Johnny crossed the aisle and sat beside her. He took her hand and examined it. Like Linda Lake she had burgundy nails but of course, wedding and engagement rings.

  She smiled.

  ‘D’you even know my name?’ she asked him.

  ‘I guess you’ll always be Miss Wilkinson too me. But I remember you calling through the letterbox that awful night, when you brought the shepherd’s pie. Linda, you said it’s Linda, Miss Wilkinson.’

  ‘You were in the house that night?’

  ‘Upstairs, alone.’

  ‘You wouldn’t see me?’

  He shook his head. How different and terrible things might have been if he had let her in. But how different and terrible things might yet be now he had let her in.

  ‘I’m Linah, not Linda.’

  He smiled. He’d never been sure he’d heard correctly. ‘Then we’ve both got names to get used
to.’

  She took her hand away. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘Do we?’ he said; his tone derisory.

  ‘There are things you should know.’

  ‘I prefer not knowing some things;’ like whether the drunk ever got up from the bottom of the stairs, he thought.

  On stage men appeared with crates, flight cases and drums.

  ‘It’s getting busy. I’ll have to go to work soon,’ he said.

  ‘Johnny, I appreciate you don’t want to remember certain things, but I can’t leave without talking to you properly – without saying what has to be said.’

  He studied the woman’s face. At least she’d used his proper name. ‘Okay. I guess if I have to hear anything about the past then I want to hear it from you, Linah.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I thought I’d have to get all school teachery for a minute.’

  Smiling he knew he’d not kept the mischief from his eyes.

  She might have floundered but said, ‘I’m staying at the Posthouse.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Of all the gin joints …’

  ‘You’re staying there?’

  ‘Guess I couldn’t avoid you even if tried. You got a ticket for the show?’

  ‘Are you kidding, they sold out ages ago.’

  ‘That’s Little Spirit not us.’

  Linah stayed put when requested. He disappeared down the venue and backstage.

  ‘You’re my guest of honour,’ he said when he returned with a laminate. ‘You can come and go as you please and see the show from the wings. And just so as you know you are the only living person from my past worth remembering. It’s lovely to see you.’

  She thanked him. ‘What will you tell the band?’

  ‘Nothing just yet.’

  ‘What do they know?’

  ‘Nothing. They know Johnny Won isn’t my birth name; that’s it.’

  ‘I’m sorry to do this to you.’

  ‘Don’t be. What will you do till show time?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Maybe potter round town.’

  ‘Stay for the soundchecks. Little Spirit will be up soon, that’ll give you something to talk about in your music lessons.’

  He took her arm and walked her to the seats nearer the stage.

  * * *

  Backstage Johnny indeed found Little Spirit ready to soundcheck. Joining his own bandmates still occupying Little Spirit’s room he spied Danny’s acoustic guitar in the corner.

  ‘You alright mate?’ Stu asked.

  ‘I’ve not the faintest idea,’ he said. ‘I’ll know by the end of the night.’