All Tomorrow's Parties

by Nicole Fitton

  “Why didn’t you say anything? You knew but you didn’t say anything?” Laine’s face completely showed how she was feeling, no poker face for her. She looked hurt; her eyes behind what seemed like a never ending circle of puffy redness had darkened, accentuating her sorrow.

  “I thought if you had wanted me to know you would have said, Laine”. Tony let go of her hand and turned towards the sink looking out over the small garden. “Yes I had seen the photos…when they arrived I thought it was me they were trying to get at.” Tony’s voice was breathy and unsure. It was as though he were feeling his way down an overgrown path he had never trodden. He was not accustomed to having to explain his reasoning, not even to Laine. Being an editor he knew the power of the words he was about to speak. Despite being married for nearly a year he was still unsure of how to articulate his emotions. He loved Laine to the point of obsession, he wanted nothing to stop that. Each word he spoke was thought first, measured and analysed before leaving his lips. Sometimes his sentences appeared disjointed because of the processes that were taking place. He had never once spoken with Laine without knowing the effect his words may have.

  After a long pause he spoke. “The photos did get at me Laine, but not in the way I think they were meant to. When I saw those photos it made me realise how deeply I loved you, I knew I had to ask you to marry me, so I asked and you said yes Laine you said yes, nothing else mattered, especially when you ended up in hospital.” The words hung in the air.

  “If you want to know, Tony, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything”, said Laine softly.

  “Laine no, I don’t want to know, it’s in the past, it was in the past when I asked you to marry me wasn’t it?” Tony turned from the sink to face her.

  She looked crumpled, not her usually tall bright self. Laine was unsure how to answer: yes it was in the past, but she knew there was a time not that long ago when she would have done almost anything to see John again. He had invaded her soul. Her dreams were often snatches of him, did that count as over?

  “I haven’t seen or heard from him since Italy.” Laine’s words gave no hint of what lay beneath them.

  She had not lied to Tony: this was a fact but it was not everything. She could hear Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams” album coming from the sitting room, and she could hear Ella’s laugh. It was good to hear laughter.

  “You’d better take the drinks in or we may have a mutiny on our hands”, said Laine, trying to put a sense of normality back into what had turned into the weekend from hell.

  “We’re OK Laine, aren’t we?” asked Tony. It was rare for him to ask such a direct question.

  “Yes we’re OK, we just need to find the arsehole who’s behind this.” She wrapped her arms around him and took a deep breath in, yes we are alright, she thought to herself.

  The phone in the hall began to ring. “I’ll get it”, said Tony, kissing her softly on the top of her head.

  Laine could hear Tony’s voice lighten; good, she thought, at least we can maybe have a bit of normality.

  Over the next few weeks Andy pulled in some favours with local police departments. Andy’s natural charm and wit coupled with his “totally believable and credible” arguments put forward on behalf of his clients meant that in his short, but bright career he had made allies in high places. Working for Dawson Wright and Peller had opened many doors. He had access to some of the best minds in London.

  He had discovered that the paper on which the photos were printed were limited to just two suppliers throughout the UK, of which only five shops were in the London area. As Professor Lochlan, one of his favourite law tutors had once told him, all you need is patience, gut instinct and a bit of luck to uncover the truth. Andy was convinced that the paper the photos were printed on would be the key, now he just had to figure out how.

  Laine was uncomfortable to say the least about having her nakedness shown to so many people, but it was too late to worry about it now, she thought. Andy had taken all the photos and would get them scanned for prints. She doubted he would find any, but had reluctantly agreed to hand them over. He had however agreed to show only the “sleeping” shot if he needed to. The others he had promised would not be shown unless absolutely vital.

  Chris phoned Tony once Karenna had left and explained as best he could what had happened. Tony had listened, bemused, with a slight grin spreading across his face.

  “Well, well, well”, he taunted, “how the worm has turned”. He tried hard not to break into full scale belly-laughing.

  “Less of the worm if you don’t mind, I could think of better analogies than that”, scoffed Chris.

  “I think maybe this will go somewhere Tony, she’s like a different woman to the one we knew way back when.”

  “Don’t tell me the love bug’s in town and visiting you young man?”

  “Well I don’t think I’d go that far. Let’s just say she’s sparked my interest and I’d like to explore my options.”

  “Right well, off you go exploring Dr Livingstone, don’t forget your injections…” Tony teased.

  “You are just rude, Mr Black, and on that note I bid you adieu”, and with that he was gone.

  Tony was bemused: who would have thought that Karenna of all people could transform herself from ugly duckling to swan? He couldn’t wait to tell Laine.

  Laine was less than impressed. “I hope Chris knows what he’s letting himself in for?” She could not quite square the fact that anyone could change that much. Something niggled but she couldn’t quite get to it.

  “Well it’s not very often Chris talks about women, well not in a way that I could repeat”, remarked Tony. “He’s definitely taken with her, that’s for sure.”

  “He needs to be careful, the way she spoke and looked at me that night in the pub still sends shivers down my back”. As she spoke, a thought came and went, it was so fleeting it made her gasp.

  “You alright Lainey, you’ve gone very pale?” asked Tony, concern spreading across his face.

  “You don’t think it could be her, do you?” Even as she said it she knew how ridiculous it sounded, but something sang out to her, what was it she kept seeing but not understanding?

  “Crikey, do you really think it could be Karenna?” he said, tilting his head to one side. Tony had not even thought of her as an option, but now realised that it did sort of make sense.

  “You didn’t see how she looked at me in the pub that night Tony, she was pure evil.” Laine knew that if looks could kill she would have been dead that night.

  “OK I know she’s weird but is she really THAT weird? I’m not sure, and besides it looks like she may have moved on. After all she’s seeing Chris now”, he said, sounding more confident with his reply.

  “Well let’s invite them round…I want to see for myself that the evil witch has turned into the good witch. You know what they say… seeing is believing.”

  “OK, I’ll call Chris tomorrow and sort it, happy?” he said. Laine nodded. She knew if it were Karenna then she was one screwed up lady who needed to be unscrewed!

  Tony had been a complete rock and she was grateful for his support. She had not expected him to react that way, but to be honest she had not ever envisaged a situation like this. “Why?” was the question that haunted her over the next few weeks, invading all social situations.

  Vestal was on the verge of going from a small independent label to a large corporation, this was no time for slacking. Press Conferences, tours, launches, junkets were in full swing but she found herself looking at everyone slightly more cautiously than before. Was it you, or you, or you? she would wonder. I am going to drive myself bananas, she thought. She realised for the first time that she was in a far stronger position than she had ever been. Someone had poured molten steel into the furnace, what they hadn’t banked on was the strength that came during the cooling process. Yes, revenge is best served cold, and that is where I’ll get closure to so many things, she thought. The phone rang and Laine answered.


  “Laine its Andy, I need to see you and Tony” - his voice peppered with excitement – “can I come around early tonight? I know we’re coming for your dinner party with Chris & Karenna later but I really need to see you beforehand.” Urgency had replaced the excitement she had initially heard.

  “Yes of course Andy, come round about 6. I’ll take Ella home with me so we can all be there. Is everything OK?” she said tentatively.

  “I’ll tell you later, right now I just need to put the final piece in the puzzle. See you later.”

  She needed “Lidogate”, as it had now become known, to end. Andy had been investigating “the case” for about eight weeks, and this was the first time he was willing to talk about it. Laine had placed all of her proverbial eggs into this particular basket. She desperately needed to move on. She still loved John, of that there was no question, but he was not here. If possession were 9/10 of the law then surely love worked on the same premise. Therefore, Tony deserved to be loved, as he was always there for her, she thought, as she sat cutting out a Mahler review from the Guardian.

  Bloody press cuttings. She was almost up to speed with the cuttings; summer months were a good time for “catch up days”, she thought. The office had been quiet all day. Many of the usual journalists who would call were off on holiday. After all it was nearly the end of August. Even the usual gaggle of Mahler fans who would hang around the entrance to Vestal were down to just two. Holidays and the fact the band were on a European tour, she thought, as she opened the window to try to get some air into her rather hot office.

  “It feels stormy Laine, air’s heavy don’t you think?” asked Ambra as she placed another pile of newspapers on Laine’s desk.

  “Yes there is certainly a storm coming”, said Laine.

  Karenna was drawn to powerful things. She liked the sense of control it gave her. Photography was a form of control. From the moment she lined up the shot to clicking the shutter she was in control, and she loved it. Her photos were captured to tell the story she wanted them to tell. Her camera was a Nikon FM with a powerful telephoto lens and a distinct shutter sound. There were only two in the country when she had purchased it. It had cost her a small fortune what with the different lenses, photo paper and developing equipment, but it had been worth it. There was, after all, very little else that gave her the same sort of thrill as photography.

  Chris sat in the Duke of York waiting for Karenna, his palms starting to sweat. Fear or excitement – he wasn’t sure. The pub was busy with the 6 o’clock rush, all grabbing a drink before heading back to suburbia.

  He hadn’t seen Karenna for about a week. Both of them had large amounts of work on. Chris was happy with the way things were, he was still a 100% commitment-phobe. When they were together things were good, but he always felt he was not in control of any of it. He always wondered if he would still feel that flush of excitement or had it been the fact that she was a good lay and his hormones were playing a few tricks on him? He was about to find out. Karenna caught his eye as she made her way through the throng of merry Friday-nighters.

  “Hi”, he said nervously.

  “Hi”, said Karenna. She seemed a little shy, which was not at all what he was expecting: shy she was not. Here was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it, he thought.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked.

  “Sure, I’ll have a Pils please.” Her eyes sparkled and he felt a surge of want, god she was hot, if he hadn’t already agreed to go for dinner at Tony & Laine’s he would take her back to his and really see how shy she was, he thought.

  They sat with their drinks and discussed their weeks. Karenna over the last year had stepped from PR to A&R (artists and repertoire). Her job now primarily revolved around signing the hottest bands and building their careers. She was a hard task-master and had already got herself a reputation of being a U.H.B.: “unhitched bitch”. This was a name given to single ballsy women in the industry who did nothing to help fight the chauvinism that was so rampant. In fact, many believed woman like Karenna condoned it. Quite how she had so quickly moved up the ranks within SBC no one was quite sure, but move she had at a speed that was worthy of Nelson Piquet.

  “We’ve been invited for dinner at Tony and Laine’s tonight, is that OK?” said Chris, trying to make eye contact.

  “Wha…what??” The panic in Karenna’s eyes was evident. Shit, this was not part of my plan she thought: ok compose yourself, you’re gonna give the game away.

  “But I thought they didn’t like me?” Good save, she thought.

  “Well I don’t know about that but I know they like me so I’m sure it won’t be that bad, after all they did invite both of us. Tony said there would be some other friends of theirs there as well, so hopefully it won’t be too painful”, said Chris, trying to make light of it. He had known for weeks but had chosen not to say anything.

  “If you don’t want to go that’s fine, I’ll call and cancel. I just thought it would be nice for you to get to know some of my friends, no big deal”, Chris shrugged.

  “No, no it’s fine, I’d love to go - just took me by surprise that’s all”, Karenna smiled. “Can we go via mine first as I want to change, is that OK?” Maybe tonight’s the night, she thought. Has fate gifted me the opportunity to really break that cow’s spell over him? Karenna could not contain her look of excitement. Did Chris really think she would do all this for him? What a saddo, she thought.

  Karenna lived in Bayswater, a basement flat of an old Victorian Mansion block. Chris was intrigued to see where she lived. Every time they had been together it had been at his house. He had received strict instructions from both Tony and Laine to find out as much as possible about Karenna as discreetly as he could. He had been a bit taken aback but had sworn to keep it a secret.

  Her flat was not as he’d expected. It was bright, clean and feminine. It was also very impersonal, in fact a bit clinical, he thought. Not one thing looked out of place; there were no photos of anyone, family or otherwise. This could easily be a hotel room, thought Chris.

  “I’m just gonna get changed, help yourself to a drink Chris, there’s beer in the fridge”, and with that she closed the door to her bedroom.

  As ordered, Chris decided to snoop. Yes, she was a hot lady, but things for him weren’t adding up. Everything just looked a bit too perfect. Probing around the living room he first looked in the drawers of the white dresser. Nothing, now that is odd, not even a scrap of paper, literally nothing. He moved across to the sofa and was slightly relieved to find a copy of the Radio Times under the chair. Beside it sat a black glass coffee table, on

  Which lay a copy of Practical Photography, October 1983. Out of date, last year’s, he thought. Now in such a perfect room, why would she keep this? Chris sat on the fake black leather chair and started flicking through the magazine. A section entitled “The World Through Your Eyes” caught his attention. It appeared to be photos sent in by readers: a picture of a Stag taken in Scotland by JR Manning - good use of colour, thought Chris, I can see why it might interest Karenna. Then like a bolt from the blue it hit him. “Venice” by K. Lacey. His eyes widened, surely not, Karenna? he thought. It was a beautiful picture of the approach to Venice at what looked to be sunrise. A low mist appeared to hang over the water, with silhouettes of the basilica and a variety of boats and gondolas. He could feel his heart starting to thump through his chest wall. This is really quite good, he thought, but not something I would ever have associated with her. He placed the magazine back where he had found it. What was taking her so long? Becoming impatient he headed into the kitchen to get himself a beer.

  “What on earth are you doing in there Karenna? I’m getting hungry.”

  “Coming”, she shouted through the closed door.

  He knew he hadn’t been very successful on the mission set by Tony and Laine, but he had at least found out she had a hobby. He would mention it to Tony and Laine; hopefully they could use it in the quiz they were organising for toni
ght’s dinner party. Funny, they had never organised a quiz before, must be all that Trivial Pursuit everyone’s talking about he thought. For now he would keep it to himself, there was no reason to let Karenna know, he thought, downing his beer.

  Chris and Karenna arrived at Delancey Street just before 8pm. Since leaving Bayswater the weather had turned. The blue skies had been replaced with large black clouds and the rain fell heavily. The distant crack of thunder could be heard as they made their way towards Number 26. The first signs of autumn hung in the air like the curtain about to go up on opening night.

  Tony welcomed them in. “Good to see you Chris”, he said, giving him a kind of man hug crossed with a pat on the back and a handshake.

  Simple Minds were promising miracles from the sitting room whilst wafts of onions and garlic sang out from the kitchen.

  “You remember Karenna.” Chris beckoned her in, she had been standing behind him. He had never seen her so shy, what was going on with her?

  “Yes I do”, said Tony curtly.

  Something in his expression changed, slight but noticeable, thought Chris.

  “Hello”, said Karenna meekly.

  “Come in, come in, don’t stand there dripping, I’ll show you where the bathroom is. Karenna you look soaked through. Chris, Laine and co are in the kitchen if you want to grab a drink…” Again, hollow words, thought Chris. If they were crystal they would have rung out an alarm, he thought.

  Chris made his way to the kitchen, troubled by his friend’s obviously terse demeanour.

  “Here’s the bathroom, Karenna, towels in the cupboard at the back”, said Tony shutting and locking the door.

  “What are you doing?” Karenna said quietly. A surge of electricity made its way through her body. She had only ever imagined he had wanted her, now here was the proof.

  “Strip”, he said, his eyes darkening.