Searching for a Silver Lining

by Miranda Dickinson

  As the taxi took a sharp right turn, Mattie felt her stomach lurch, the full realisation of what she had agreed to in the club now dawning. A week and a half on the road with a frail and unpredictable OAP and a materialistic club owner, abandoning her common sense along with her reason? What was she thinking? How could it end in anything other than disaster? Would five people, as good as strangers now, really put aside a sixty-year rift for the sake of one gig? And what about the shop? What would Laurie and Joanna say? She’d made them complicit in this scheme without ever asking their opinion. How would she feel in their position?

  Wait . . . she knew how she’d feel. Like someone else was dictating her actions. Like Grandpa Joe had done to her.

  But the prospect was too enticing to ignore. Perhaps they would understand. Perhaps time away from home would be good for her. She had been so consumed with losing Asher and Joe – and keeping all the plates spinning at work – that she hadn’t allowed herself time to absorb what had happened to her. She hadn’t spent any time away from Bell Be-Bop since opening the shop. And now it occurred to her that she hadn’t really done anything for herself for several years. A crazy road trip criss-crossing the country, on a completely uncertain premise and with companions she hardly knew, might be just what she needed.

  ‘What about Beauvale? You know your health isn’t good. They know it, too.’

  ‘Beauvale won’t stand in our way. I pay them enough to be able to do what the heck I want, once in a while. We can do this, Mattie. And if we can’t, we’ll have the time of our lives trying . . .’

  There were a million and one reasons not to embark on Reenie’s crazy scheme. But one reason in its favour superseded them all: Mattie wanted to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘At the Hop’ – Danny & the Juniors

  On Sunday morning, Mattie arrived at Beauvale as usual with the requisite pink-and-white-striped chocolatiers’ box in one hand and an unassuming-looking shopping bag in the other containing a wealth of secret things. She exchanged a breezy greeting with Gaynor in the covered walkway from reception to the communal barn, all the time feeling like a spy carrying top-secret intelligence for a clandestine meet.

  ‘Reenie’s on top form today,’ Gaynor said. ‘Anyone would think she knew something we didn’t.’

  Gritting her teeth into a smile, Mattie nodded and hurried through the old oak barn doors.

  Reenie grabbed her elbow the moment Mattie reached her side. ‘Have you got it?’ she hissed, eyeballing two of the Three Furies who had dared to stand too close as they scurried into the shadows of the barn.

  Mattie nodded. ‘Where do you want to do this?’

  The old lady took the box of violet crèmes from Mattie and made a great show of opening it, selecting a chocolate and taking a bite. ‘Kitchen,’ she replied, mid-chomp. I’ve cleared it with Sandra the catering manager.’

  ‘Really? Couldn’t we just go to your room?’ Mattie asked, wondering if such extreme lengths were necessary.

  ‘And have that lot with glasses pressed to the wall next door? Not flippin’ likely! It’s like a blue-rinse MI6 in here, kid. The walls have ears and twinsets.’

  Together, they strolled as casually as anyone can into an industrial catering kitchen. Sandra, who it transpired was a middle-aged lady of Amazonian proportions, momentarily blocked their path, Mattie coming within inches of a potentially embarrassing nose-to-expansive-breast collision.

  ‘Go right ahead,’ she boomed, with a sly wink that would have terrified even the bravest visitor to her establishment.

  ‘How did you persuade that woman to let us in?’ Mattie asked, as they rounded a large double-freezer unit where a stainless-steel table had been cleared for them.

  ‘Turns out she’s a massive Elvis fan. I had a few of his signed postcards he gave me during my Vegas stint in ’73, so . . .’ Reenie rotated a red-painted fingernail inviting Mattie to draw her own conclusions.

  ‘Really? But those would be worth – a lot of money. Should you really be giving them away?’

  ‘Nah. I’ve a box full of the things. Gathering dust in me wardrobe, to be honest. And I don’t need little scribbled-on scraps of card to remind me of the beautiful thing we had . . .’ For a moment, Reenie was lost to the world, her thoughts far away from the disinfectant-heavy air of Beauvale’s catering kitchen.

  Torn between wanting to press Reenie further and redirecting her attention to the job they had come to do, Mattie opted for the latter. If today’s plan came to fruition, there would be plenty of time to hear her possibly apocryphal showbiz stories during their road trip. ‘Anyway, we should probably get on with this?’

  ‘Oh yes, yes. Right you are. So, you’ve got it?’

  Mattie nodded and held up the carrier bag. ‘All here. Do you have the most recent list of addresses?

  ‘I certainly do. Still had it in the card Tommy sent me last Christmas.’ With a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, Reenie slowly reached into the neckline of her peacock-blue kaftan and, to Mattie’s alarm, produced a folded sheet of paper from the generous depths of her cleavage. ‘Old trick I learned in the trade, kid: your bra is the high-security safe the Good Lord gave you. Besides, if anyone’s brave enough to try rummaging around in there, at least it’ll put a smile on your face!’

  Trying to push the unwanted mental image of Reenie’s high-security bra from her mind, Mattie pulled a large road atlas from her carrier bag and laid it face down on the table. On its back cover was a map of the British Isles, with the major cities and towns marked across it. A spiral-bound notebook followed, together with a biro and a sheet of silver star-shaped stickers. Reenie unfolded the sheet of paper, upon which were written five short paragraphs in an economic, tidy hand.

  ‘Right. So, where is everybody on the map?’

  Through cat-eye-shaped glasses on the end of her nose, Reenie consulted the list. ‘Darling Tommy is in Alnwick. That’s Northumberland, love.’ She stabbed at the northeast side of England with a red-painted false nail.

  ‘Northumberland. There.’ Mattie marked the first location with a silver star.

  ‘Nice touch.’ Reenie gave an appreciative nod. ‘Next, young Alys lives near Crickhowell, Wales.’

  A second star was placed on the opposite end of the map, Mattie covering her smile at an eighty-one-year-old woman being referred to as a juvenile. ‘And the other two?’

  ‘Chuck’s in Bath. Sorry, kid, I mean Johnny Powell. We all called him Chuck, but I’m beggared if I can remember why now. And June lives in Cambridge.’ Two more stars were added at opposite sides of the country.

  ‘And Kendrick’s is here,’ Mattie said, placing the last star in central London. Her heart sank as she stared at the map. Four people, living at almost the four corners of the UK: how many miles separated them?

  ‘So. What do you think?’ Reenie Silver was gazing intently up at her, something resembling hope shining in her eyes. ‘Could we do it?’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ Mattie’s mind was a-whirr with possibilities, logistical questions and practical concerns. Could they do this? A thirty-two-year-old and an eighty-four-year-old, travelling the length and breadth of the British Isles in a camper van that hadn’t attempted much more than forty miles in one day before? Reenie laying her biggest regret to rest. The Silver Five finally reunited. And Grandpa Joe’s favourite group finally able to perform the most important gig of their lives . . .

  Mattie Bell was never one to retreat from a challenge, just because it seemed too difficult to meet. There had to be a way to make this happen. ‘It won’t be easy,’ she admitted, seeing a smile already broadening across Reenie’s downy face, ‘but I think we can.’

  ‘Woo-hoo!’ Reenie grabbed Mattie and hugged her so hard, she feared the old lady’s reading glasses might become permanently welded to her shoulder. ‘I knew you’d come up trumps! Righty-ho, then, let’s get planning!’

  6 December 1955

  All is set!

  Uncle Charle
s has confirmed by letter that I will work for him as his apprentice from 8 January. Father is delighted, Mother less so, but she knows I must fly the nest sooner or later. It’s all I can think of now. I dream of London, of the lights and noise and possibility for adventure. Kings Sunbury seems too small all of a sudden. It is time for me to make my mark.

  I’m to live with Uncle Charles in his house. I am passing the time before I leave by compiling lists of sights I want to see: Buckingham Palace, the changing of the guard at Horse Guards Parade, the British Museum, dinosaurs at the Natural History Museum, maybe even ballet at Covent Garden. I suppose not all of them will be possible but right now I am inclined to believe all of it is within my grasp.

  I cannot wait to leave . . .

  The plan was simple: take ten days and travel across the UK to visit the four other Silver Five members. The road trip would begin in Alnwick, Northumberland, with Tommy, then move to Cambridge with June Knight, across the country to Bath to see Johnny ‘Chuck’ Powell, and over the border to Wales to a village nestled on the edge of the Brecon Beacons National Park to see Alys Davis. From there, Mattie and Reenie would head to London, where – if the plan worked – the gig would finally take place at the Palm Grove.

  The plan itself was easy, but overcoming differences, forgiving past injustices and reuniting five OAPs who had mostly avoided discussing the event that tore them apart was anything but.

  Reenie remained resolutely sure that all of her former bandmates would agree, but Mattie saw her gritting her teeth several times when she thought nobody was watching. Was there more to The Silver Five’s end than she’d let on?

  ‘Well, I’ll say one thing for her, Reenie Silver is a woman who knows what she wants,’ Joanna said, lifting two bowls of pasta above her head as Ethan and Ava raced to the table. ‘But are you certain this is what you want?’

  Mattie took her seat, loving the warmth of a family mealtime. ‘Actually, crazy as it seems, I think it is. I feel awful putting it on you and Laurie to manage the shop, though.’

  Joanna waved her concern away with a pasta fork. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ll walk it. I’m just checking that you haven’t been bludgeoned into doing this because you’re too nice to say no.’

  It was time to put her cards on the table. ‘I have to do this, J-J. I made a promise to Grandpa at the funeral: I want to make it up to him.’

  ‘Oh, Mattie, you have nothing to make amends for. Grandpa Joe asked you to do an impossible thing. He had no right to sling ultimatums at you. Listen, the best way you can make it up to him is to prove how amazing you really are. Look at what you’ve achieved! And now with that idiot Asher gone, you can get on with being even more successful.’

  ‘That’s kind of you to say, but I need to do this.’

  ‘I wish the old bloke could see what pain he caused,’ Joanna said, suddenly. ‘I’m sorry, but he threw away his last chance to spend time with you. I love him and I miss him too, but he was far from perfect, M. You don’t have to do some epic task to posthumously win back his approval.’

  ‘I want to do it, though. Not just for me, but for Reenie too. Her health isn’t the best; Gaynor at Beauvale told me privately it’s worse than Reenie says. The group missing the gig sixty years ago is her biggest regret. If I can help five old people settle a score to make the remainder of their lives happy, how wonderful will that be?’

  ‘The ultimate vintage collection for you to curate,’ Joanna said, her face instantly relaxing into a smile. ‘Oh, Matilda Bell, I do love you. Just go and have a good time. Well, as good a time as you can have in a camper van with a crotchety old pensioner . . .’

  And a club owner I hardly know. Who I’m not entirely certain of, Mattie added in her thoughts. Put like this, the road trip wasn’t exactly inviting. But the end result she and Reenie hoped for was. And that was what mattered.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Just Between You and Me’ – The Chordettes

  A week after she had begun planning the trip – and the evening before she and Reenie were due to embark on it, Mattie sat at her dining-room table, maps and schedules forming a multi-coloured tablecloth across it. With Gaynor now reluctantly on board, Mattie wanted to make sure everything else was ready for the journey. Over a thousand miles of unknowns stretched into the distance before her, and she couldn’t help but be awed by the task she faced.

  ‘Kids are in bed. Here,’ Joanna handed Mattie a mug of tea as she entered the room.

  ‘Thanks. Are they okay? Ava seemed a little subdued this evening.’

  Her sister gave a shrug of resignation, her smile edged with sadness. ‘She was. They’re both very up and down at the moment. I expected it, to be honest. Fred called to speak to them after school and he’s making noises about taking them on holiday in October half-term. It’s just another familiar thing that’s changed for them.’

  ‘Will you let them go on holiday? That won’t be easy for you.’

  ‘I’m dreading it, but I won’t stand in their way if they want to go. It’ll get easier the more they settle into the new arrangements. They both love being here, though. Being with you is a constant they’re comfortable with.’

  ‘And tomorrow I’m going away for ten days,’ Mattie said, feeling immediately guilty that she hadn’t considered her nephew and niece’s feelings while she’d been planning with Reenie.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. They’re excited for you.’ Joanna looked across the dining table. ‘These plans look incredible, M.’

  ‘Thanks. I’m just trying to get everything clear in my head before tomorrow.’

  Joanna laughed. ‘You do realise you’re nuts to even be contemplating this?’

  ‘Ha. Maybe. Okay, yes, I know it’s a little out there.’

  ‘Understated as ever. I envy you a little, you know.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. This is a completely barmy idea and yet you’re throwing yourself into it wholeheartedly. You always have. I remember you as a toddler, just marching straight into everything. Mum used to say you didn’t go around things, you went through them. Little determined face, fists clenched, stomping forwards.’ She smiled. ‘And now I sound like Mum.’

  ‘Except Mum hasn’t said that sort of thing to me for a while now.’ The admission made her heart heavy. Things were getting easier between them, but it was a slow process.

  ‘Well, I’m saying it. You’re doing an incredible thing for these old people. You’re giving them the chance you never got: to change their minds. I think that’s a noble act.’

  Mattie smiled. ‘I’m not sure any of them will forgive Reenie. Apart from Tommy – the guy who’s tried to keep them all in touch over the years. He sounds lovely, a real character. I’m looking forward to meeting him.’

  ‘You’re going there first?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Joanna picked up the printed tour itinerary Mattie had put together, which would soon become their bible. ‘Alnwick, Cambridge, Bath, Llan – Llan . . . I can’t even begin to pronounce that . . . and London. That’s some schedule. Are you sure you can fit it all in?’

  ‘I’m going to give it my best shot. And the fourth stop is Llangynidr – it’s where Alys Davis lives now. On the edge of the Brecon Beacons. It’s meant to be gorgeous there.’

  Joanna looked up, eyes wide. ‘Hang on – you mean the Alys Davis? The Gloria Hunniford of Wales?’

  ‘The very same.’

  ‘Oh wow, Mattie! She’s a national treasure! Remember that show she used to do on Saturday nights way back when we were kids – ooh, now, what was it called?’

  ‘Sing Me a Saturday. Grandpa Joe adored it. Grandma too, as I recall.’

  ‘That’s it! I can’t believe you’re going to meet her!’

  ‘I think I might be a bit starstruck. I’ll have to hide it from Reenie, though. I get the feeling she isn’t too impressed by the career Alys has had.’

  What little Reenie had said about the youngest member of The Si
lver Five had left Mattie in no doubt of her true feelings. It seemed that as Reenie’s star was fading, Alys’s was very much in ascension; she had reinvented herself as a doyenne of light entertainment television at the time when Reenie found herself playing cruise ships in the 1980s.

  ‘Talk about captive audiences,’ she’d joked to Mattie, but the resentment painted in firm strokes across her brow told a different story. ‘I’d have been better off playing to inmates in prison, though. At least they wouldn’t have been so drunk and you could leave the premises without a life raft . . .’

  ‘I’m so proud of you.’ Joanna pulled Mattie into a huge hug. ‘You just take care of yourself, okay? Have an amazing time. Don’t worry about us. The kids are excited for you. And don’t worry about the shop. Laurie and me will be fine.’

  ‘I know you will. Thanks so much – I couldn’t do this without you.’

  ‘My pleasure. I’ll probably be asleep when you leave in the morning, but call me when you get to Alnwick, okay?’ Joanna pulled back and gently stroked Mattie’s face. ‘I love you, little sis. This trip’s going to be amazing.’

  That night, too excited to sleep, Mattie picked up Joe’s small, moss-green diary from her bedside table and ran a finger over the faded gold date printed on the cover. 1956: the year she had heard him talk about so much. He was still a young man then; almost an entire lifetime to live before Mattie ever knew him. He’d mentioned his year in London as his ‘wild bachelor year’. While in London, he’d first heard about The Silver Five and had become a fan. He said their music captured how he’d felt, just turned twenty-one, discovering the delights of the capital and being independent for the first time in his life. His stories of a London rediscovering itself as the long shadow of the Second World War finally retreated were as vivid and bright as the city he described: new music, new art, new fashions all embodying the irrepressible optimism of the early Fifties.