A Christmas Gift

by Sue Moorcroft

  Despite her stomach feeling hollow with apprehension, she was intrigued. ‘Oh?’ She pondered for a moment. ‘How? What did he hope would happen?’

  ‘What almost did happen – me leaving! The Hungry Years is a successful band and Pete wanted more of our pie. He knows I’m too fly to agree to anything like that so he began stabbing me in the back and trying to set the others against me. Whether he genuinely thinks Billy’s songs are more commercial than mine I don’t know, but that’s what he gave as his excuse for trying to oust me. He’d told Billy too, who was flattered into believing everything Pete said from that point on. Pete had even sent Billy a new management agreement to look over, thinking that if he could get our front man onside it would be easier to persuade the rest. I’ve seen the agreement now and it contains a totally unethical clause to allow Pete to play something on every recording made by The Hungry Years.’

  So Joe was staying with the band. Her throat felt stiff and unnatural. She had to fight to speak. ‘What would be the point of that?’

  He gave a harsh laugh. ‘It gets Pete a share of all our recording royalties! Another reason to dump me, I suppose, as he’s a drummer so could have taken my place in the studio. Giving that shitty article to the Daily Snoop was inspired, playing on all my insecurities and making me look in the wrong direction for the danger. It was completely destabilising. But I’m afraid he’s gone too far. The band members have agreed to sack him; including Billy, who feels a complete prat at the way he’s been used.’

  ‘Wow.’ She tried to put herself in his shoes and comprehend the scale of the treachery. ‘You must feel so betrayed, but I’m glad you know exactly who the leak was.’

  He seemed to understand what she didn’t say. ‘I never really thought it was you. That day, I was just listing every possibility, however unlikely.’ His fingers tightened around hers. ‘Thanks for sending me the show reel. The students were awesome. You must have been mega-proud. I got emotional watching it.’

  She nodded, accepting the change of subject and glad, despite everything, that she’d let him see the fruits of all their labour. ‘Yes,’ she said, then, remembering how she’d looked for him at show after show, ‘You should have been there.’

  His gaze dropped. ‘Oggie said the same. I didn’t want to … I knew if I saw you … And what if people had realised and started looking at me instead of the students? Taking photos.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she replied honestly, immediately able to see how it would have stolen the show – literally.

  He looked straight into her eyes. ‘Georgine, I’m back with the band. We’re starting work on a new album and this year’s tour’s going ahead. I’ll have side projects, maybe a couple of solo singles, but I’ll be with The Hungry Years.’

  Her heart began a slow, heavy slide towards her feet, yet there was happiness within her sadness. Happiness for him. ‘That’s fantastic. The band means so much to you and you’ve earned every moment of your success. I wish you a wonderful future.’ And she did, despite the ominous tingling behind her eyes.

  ‘Thank you.’ But he didn’t sound particularly thrilled. ‘Being in a band … it’s a commitment.’ He frowned. ‘I know you’re deeply dedicated to your job, which makes you brilliant at it, but being in a band’s even more intense. We’re dependent on each other and the band’s more important than any one of us. Does that make sense?’

  ‘’Course.’ Her eyes were so full of tears now that if she moved even one eyelash the drops would spill. She smiled, as if it would somehow make her tear ducts absorb the fluid again.

  He stroked her hand. ‘You’re upset. I’m trying to be honest. The recent friction in the band, the uncertainty, it could happen again. More than one person wants to be on top, same as in business. Or a gang.’

  The tears gave in to gravity and began to trickle over the curve of her cheek. ‘I want what’s best for you. You deserve to be happy.’

  Frowning, he began to squeegee the tears off her face with his thumb. ‘I’m not sure whether you’re getting what I’m saying here.’

  She nodded, which sent more of the traitorous tears slipping over her skin. ‘I think I am. I’m genuinely happy for you. I’m just not altogether happy for me. Not right this second.’

  She pulled away and made a dash for the kitchen roll, knocking the whole thing over so that it spilled across the floor. She rescued it and blew her nose several times, pausing only when she realised he’d followed her and was hovering close.

  ‘I should have spoken to you before I made the decision.’ His voice was hoarse.

  She laughed between nose blows. ‘Why? It’s your career! Joe, you’ve made such a success of your life. That success is a two-fingered salute to every horrible person who was mean to you when Garrit gave you and Chrissy a bad life. I honestly couldn’t be more pleased.’

  His eyebrows flipped up. ‘It’s a funny-looking pleased.’ He tore off a fresh sheet of kitchen roll and gently helped dry her cheeks. ‘Musicians make crap boyfriends. Always off somewhere: in a studio, in a plane, in a different time zone, a long way from home.’

  She bit her lip so as not to cry harder.

  ‘But I’m still going to ask if you think you could try it,’ he added.

  Georgine paused, just as she’d been going to blow her nose again. ‘Try it?’

  He slipped his hands around her waist, then let them drift south until they rested on the curves of her buttocks. ‘At first I thought cutting ties would be best for you. Those articles made me feel unclean, like I used to: a damaged nobody. I thought if I went back to my life with the band the feelings of wanting to be with you every minute might fade.’

  ‘But what about what I felt?’ she demanded croakily.

  He stroked her bottom. ‘Initially, I didn’t think too clearly about that. I just felt as if I would infect you with all my horrible baggage.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Then I remembered Mizz Jaw-Jean being my friend when I was a raggedy-arse waif and she was the prettiest girl in the school. And once that got in my head, I couldn’t get rid of the idea that she might be there for me whatever happened. So I came back to see if you’d be more than my friend this time.

  ‘In fact,’ he added, ‘I’ve actually told the band that if me going back doesn’t work for you, then I’m leaving after all. They told me to get up here and be really freakin’ convincing.’

  Her heart whooshed up into her throat. ‘Don’t leave the band. It’s part of you.’

  ‘Only if I’m always coming home to you.’

  Her laugh was almost a sob as she threw her arms around his neck. ‘That’s a deal, JJ Blacker.’

  ‘Joe,’ he reminded her, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she gasped, with mock solemnity. ‘Johnjoe.’ She kissed his jaw. ‘Rich.’ She kissed his cheek. ‘JJ.’ The corner of his mouth. ‘And Joe. Sleeping with someone who’s four different people could be kinda fun.’

  He threw his head back and laughed aloud. ‘I’ve loved you since I was about twelve. Loving you four times over will be easy.’

  ‘Me too,’ she breathed. ‘Loving you times four, I mean! Shall we go upstairs and start now? My feet are like blocks of ice and we could begin with a long, hot shower—’

  He groaned, leaning his forehead against hers. ‘I would so love to. Trouble is … my mum.’

  She giggled. ‘Won’t she let you stay out on a school night?’

  He laughed back, swinging her right up off the floor. ‘Believe it or not, we’re spending Christmas together. Garrit making a pest of himself at her place has unsettled her and I didn’t want her to feel that way over Christmas. She’s been sober for several years and I respect her for that. We’ve come to a better understanding recently – another case of me stopping my constant looking back, I suppose – and so I invited her and Mari to join me at Acting Instrumental. I don’t absolutely have to go back and spend Christmas evening with them but it might be hurtful not to. I’ve been
with them since yesterday evening and it’s been … an experience.’

  ‘Wow.’ Georgine hardly knew what to say. To spend Christmas evening with Debs Leonard, the woman she remembered seeing so often with lager cans for company? But she saw the plea in Joe’s eyes and tightened her arms around him, heart soaring with happiness. ‘That’s really going forward. Let’s go and spend an evening with your family.’

  ‘Mm,’ he breathed, between kisses. ‘Mum and Mari are sleeping in one of the other apartments so, sooner or later, they’ll leave … Then I’m holding you to that promise of making out in the shower. And, by the way, the forecast’s for snow for a fortnight, so pack enough clothes.’

  She pulled back to look at him. ‘It’s not. It’s set to thaw.’

  He ran his tongue down her neck. ‘Not my snow.’

  Epilogue

  One year later

  ‘I don’t see why I should talk to you ever again,’ Oggie groused as he fidgeted from foot to foot in the freezing cold. Georgine could see and hear Oggie and Joe as she organised two rows of teenagers, making sure everybody had streamers to throw and helium balloons to release.

  Joe grinned at Oggie. ‘Because you’re one of my best and oldest friends?’

  Oggie, pointedly, did not grin back. ‘Best and oldest friends do not poach staff from other best and oldest friends!’

  Georgine turned around to chime in, ‘Strictly speaking, he didn’t poach me. I demanded to be given the job.’

  A young man approached Georgine shyly. ‘Good afternoon. Miss France? I’m Jamie from the Bettsbrough Bugle. Do you want to go ahead with the grand opening and we’ll do the interview after? Then the photographer can get his shots and go.’ He cast a glance at where Joe was looking suitably bad-boy rock star, hair grown out on top but blond these days. ‘Will Mr Blacker give an interview, do you think?’

  The change to Joe’s expression was so subtle that anyone else would probably miss that he was thinking ‘Ohhhhhhhh noooooooo …’ Even after the smash hit of the last album, Into the Future by The Hungry Years, he wasn’t best buddies with the press. Georgine sent him a special smile. ‘I hope he will,’ she said clearly, so he couldn’t help but hear. ‘But record his speech in case he doesn’t have time.’

  ‘What speech?’ Joe demanded.

  With a skip, she propelled herself to his side. ‘You are going to give a speech, aren’t you?’

  Joe put his lips close to her ear. ‘Only because you won’t sleep with me if I don’t.’

  ‘Shhhhhh!’ She felt her cheeks burn. ‘I’ll sleep with you twice if you give an interview to that nice young journalist as well.’

  He laughed, abandoning his bad-boy rock star persona and planting a big kiss on her mouth. ‘OK. Let’s get this party started.’

  Georgine had borrowed a couple of tech students from Acting Instrumental to set up the public-address system. She looked across at them and they gave her a thumbs-up, so she stepped up to the microphone, beaming at the crowd of people who were swinging their arms and stamping their feet as they waited in the raw December afternoon not because they wanted to see the opening of the centre Georgine had been slaving to bring to reality, but because JJ Blacker was involved. But, hey. You used what you had.

  ‘Thank you very much for coming, everybody. In a moment I’m going to ask our guest of honour, Mr JJ Blacker –’ she paused for applause and a few girlish whoops ‘– to officially open this youth centre, here on the Shetland estate.

  ‘But before I do,’ she went on, ‘I want to tell you a little about our fabulous new facility. We’ve worked with Bettsbrough Council to erect this building on the edge of the estate, close enough for young people to reach, but not so close that they disturb the neighbourhood.’ Buoyed by laughter, she grinned. ‘We plan to have a programme of activities and events, both drop-in and scheduled, encompassing just about everything we can think of. No teen from the Shetland estate ever need say there’s nothing here for them. Students from Acting Instrumental will offer short workshops in music, drama and dance, and we’re getting help from the A Level PE students of the Sir John Browne Academy to implement a sports programme.’ She waited out a ripple of applause. ‘JJ’ – she always felt self-conscious when the occasion called for her to call him that – ‘is going to say something about funding in a moment. What he probably won’t mention, so I will, is that he’s donated all the royalties of his recent solo hit “Running on Empty” to this project.’

  Joe lowered his brows at her as the audience cheered. Georgine grinned, unrepentant. ‘So, with no further delay, let me hand over to our guest of honour – JJ Blacker, drummer and vocalist of famous pop-punk band, The Hungry Years!’ She never quite got over the dream-worldliness of this man, who spent a whole lot of time helping her out of her clothes, being a rock star.

  The applause was louder this time. A girl shouted, ‘Got your sticks, JJ?’

  Joe smiled and dispensed with formality. ‘I’m only making a speech because my girlfriend says I have to.’ Again, laughter. Then he became serious. ‘It’s no secret that some of my formative years were not the best. The Shetland estate then was known as Shitland.’ Louder laughter, mainly from teenagers. ‘I spent twelve years here. And for most of it I was scared, hungry, cold and wondering if it was the best life had to offer.’ No laughter at all. Georgine had to swallow a lump in her throat.

  ‘For me,’ Joe went on, ‘things got a whole lot better when I went to live somewhere else. I don’t want you guys to feel like that. I want you to be glad to stay here in Bettsbrough, to grow up with something to do other than run around with a gang or get drawn into bad stuff that will wreck your life. For that reason, when the other Hungries offered to play benefit gigs for Acting Instrumental, the performing arts college in Middledip I’m also involved with, I got together with Mr Ogden here’ – he gestured towards Oggie – ‘one of my best and oldest friends. We decided that Acting Instrumental is doing very well already. So, we’d like to do something right here, instead.’

  He reached out and took Georgine’s hand. ‘This is my other best and oldest friend, Georgine France. She’ll be heading up the team at the youth centre.’ He looked around the audience, gazing directly at the photographer from the Bugle while he got his shots. ‘I thought for a long time about the name of the centre. When I lived here I was known as Rich Garrit, but I didn’t want to use that. I could have used my stage name, JJ Blacker, but that seemed a bit up myself.’

  Jamie the journalist moved a little closer with his voice recorder. The photographer inched in beside him.

  ‘So,’ Joe concluded, ‘it’s my pleasure to declare open Blackthorn’s, the youth centre of the Shetland estate.’ Just as Georgine had coached him, he flung his arms in the air and the double rank of teenagers, many of them students of Acting Instrumental, past and present, released the red and gold balloons they’d been holding and joyfully threw their streamers to float on the breeze.

  Under cover of the applause, Joe stepped back from the mic and caught Georgine round the waist. ‘OK?’

  She gave him a great hug as people, organised into a queue by Oggie and his family, who had come to help, passed by. ‘It was perfect,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve done a good thing.’

  He took her hand and joined the flow of people heading inside for the free hot chocolate they’d laid on. ‘Do I get my reward now?’ His eyes laughed.

  ‘Soon,’ she promised. ‘When you’ve been nice to the journalist and signed a few hundred autographs at 50p each to add to Blackthorn’s funds.’ She began to steer him to the hovering young journalist, who was obviously eager not to lose what was no doubt the scoop of his career so far.

  ‘Bargain.’ Joe gave her hand a parting squeeze. ‘So long as I’m coming home to you.’

  Acknowledgements

  Every time I write acknowledgements for a book I’m humbled anew by how many people give up their time and expertise to help me create the most authentic story I can.

  Heartf
elt thanks to:

  Jacqueline Barron (www.jacquelinebarron.com), who talked to me for hours about working in the world of music, drama and dance, and pointed me towards wonderful resources, including further education colleges for the performing arts. She also created the idea for the scholarship that resulted in A Very Kerry Christmas, Uncle Jones. Jackie is an accomplished performer and tutor, appearing all over the world. As I said to her, we haven’t done too badly for two girls from an ordinary comprehensive school.

  Jackie introduced me to Jack Savidge of the band Friendly Fires (http://friendlyfires.co.uk), who seemed not one bit fazed by being asked to help someone he didn’t know. Jack greatly influenced all band-related stuff, including pointing out when I’d got my facts wrong, even though he knew I didn’t want to hear it because it messed with my plot. I’m indebted to both he and Jackie for explaining the music royalty system to me.

  Wayne Parkin of The Lace Market Theatre, Nottingham helped me create the show and advised on everything theatre-led. That he drove to meet me in Leicester each of the many times we talked made things super-easy for me. I’m sure our fellow diners were entertained when he jumped up to act things out.

  Someone else who didn’t know me, this time introduced by Wayne, is Alex Wrampling, head of drama at Landau Forte College. Alex answered a shoal of questions about education and subjects such as video evidence for qualifications. Both Wayne and Alex were kind enough to beta-read an early draft of the manuscript to keep me on track.

  Paul Matthews first told me about the further education colleges springing up now that people have to stay in education or in an apprenticeship until the age of eighteen, and helped me create the whole idea of Joe being involved with Acting Instrumental. He’s answered a lot of questions about musicians, students and education, and provided me with terminology.

  Paul also introduced me to his colleague JJ Sims who was in the process of implementing a small further education college himself: a girl’s football academy. I was so impressed by his ‘can-do’ attitude and vision, and I love the idea that you don’t have to be one of the big cogs in our education system to make things happen. The fact that JJ is known by the same initials as my hero Joe is absolute coincidence!