Searching for a Silver Lining

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘Jake was good to me. I did love him, whatever you think. And I didn’t have any choice.’

  ‘You could have gone home.’

  ‘Could I? Single and pregnant, with hardly any money to my name? And how would I have got home? You have to believe me, kid, there was no other way. I was scared and alone and couldn’t think straight. If I’d gone to that back-street abortion doctor, I would have died. Your grandfather was an angel of mercy . . .’

  ‘Who you repaid with lies,’ Gil stormed. ‘I can’t listen to this anymore.’

  ‘Gil – wait. Let’s talk.’

  ‘You’ve made your position crystal-clear, Mattie. We have nothing more to say.’

  ‘We have another meeting tomorrow,’ Mattie stated, her hackles rising. ‘A meeting you insisted on being a part of. I know this has been a shock. I understand you’re hurt. And I am the last person to tell you what you should believe. But I know what we all set out to achieve, and we are so close to seeing it happen.’

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything now, though, does it? We’re celebrating a sixty-year lie.’

  ‘No. We’re putting the past to rest. And honouring what Jacob Kendrick did.’

  His laugh was bitter, mocking her. ‘I don’t think so.’

  He began to leave the garden, but Mattie ran after him.

  ‘Gil. Gil! What does that mean? What about the gig . . . ?’

  She hated herself for mentioning it, but they had come so far, invested too much to fall at the final hurdle. Instantly, it was as if she was transported back to the hotel in Alnwick, after rescuing Reenie – but this time the roles were reversed, and she had become the mercenary one.

  It was as if her question sickened him; she wished she couldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes. ‘Oh, it will go ahead. We don’t have a choice. But then this is done. Over.’

  As he walked away, Mattie knew he wasn’t just referring to his association with Reenie. ‘Kid – I . . .’

  Mattie shivered. ‘Forget it, Reenie. I’m glad you told me.’

  ‘But I didn’t think he’d go off like that.’

  Neither did I, Mattie thought, tears building behind her eyes. It turns out I didn’t know Gil Kendrick at all. ‘It’s cold out here. Let’s get you back inside.’

  Mattie was numb when she returned to her room, too angry to cry, too hurt to think. How had a moment where she’d felt closer than ever to Reenie and Gil turned into such a scene of devastation?

  Of course, Gil had a right to be upset. Reenie’s confession, meant as a sign of her trust in him, had led to the unexpected dethroning of his beloved grandfather. While Mattie could see Jacob Kendrick’s actions as a mark of a good man, Gil could only see the betrayal of his memory. But this whole journey had been about redemption – about not letting past mistakes change the future. How had he so easily abandoned that?

  She hadn’t been wrong to take Reenie’s side. What had happened to the young singer had been terrifying and, ultimately, terribly sad. And despite everything that had happened this evening, Mattie was touched that Reenie had chosen to break her vow of silence for her. It felt like the most precious gift.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  Mattie had completely forgotten she had a roommate for the night, and almost jumped out of her skin. ‘Pru! I didn’t see you.’

  Pru’s auburn head emerged from a tangle of clothes on the other single bed. ‘Sorry. I’ve learned not to take up a lot of space.’ A hint of a smile was gone as soon as Mattie saw it. She sat up, pushing a length of hair from her eyes with a self-conscious flick of her hand. ‘I heard shouting.’

  Mattie sank onto her bed. ‘I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Is Gil all right? He sounded upset.’

  ‘He is.’

  ‘Does this happen a lot with you guys?’

  Her question was so innocent that Mattie almost laughed. ‘Not usually. I’m putting the kettle on. Fancy a tea or coffee?’

  Pru nodded, pulling her black hoodie on. ‘Tea. Please.’

  Mattie had been dreading the prospect of a night spent with this young girl who had barely spoken ten words to her, but now she found herself glad of the teen’s company. She wouldn’t have wanted to be alone with her muddled thoughts tonight.

  As she made tea, Pru observed her from the other side of the room like a pale hawk. She hid striking features behind her hair, high cheekbones and large blue eyes, bee-sting lips and a perfect freckle on one cheek that an eighteenth-century lady would have been proud of. Mattie wondered if Pru would ever find confidence in her appearance. She hoped she would.

  ‘Fighting sucks,’ Pru said, accepting the mug of tea from Mattie. ‘I should know. My mum could bicker for Britain.’

  ‘Is that why you left?’ Mattie asked, immediately thinking better of it.

  A sound almost like a laugh came from the young woman. ‘Kelvin told you. I knew he would. It’s okay, I don’t mind. He rescued me, after all.’

  ‘And brought you here. With a bunch of crazy people in a camper van.’

  Pru nodded. ‘Who else would have done that for me, hmm?’

  ‘I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be in the middle of this.’

  ‘I’m used to it. And trust me, compared to my family you lot are a bunch of amateurs. I didn’t leave home because of Mum. I left because of her creepy fella. Skulking around, making suggestive remarks when he thought Mum wasn’t listening. He tried it on with my best friend and when I ratted him to Mum she wouldn’t believe me. The guy’s a total loser. Skanks money and fags off her, goes off for days on end without telling her where he is and still expects her to welcome him back.’

  ‘It’s hard when your mum doesn’t listen to you,’ Mattie said, the sting of her own mother’s reaction in the wake of Grandpa Joe’s death still smarting, even though both of them had since made progress to heal their relationship. ‘You deserve to be heard. But maybe, if you keep talking long enough, the message will get through?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Long fingers wrapped around the mug. ‘So, what happened downstairs?’

  ‘Gil and Reenie had a row. A bad one. It’s too complicated to explain why.’

  ‘And you took sides?’

  Mattie blinked. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Lucky guess.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He seemed like a nice bloke, for what it’s worth. But even nice blokes can be thick sometimes. Reenie’s great, too. And you.’ She ducked her head into the black hood, hiding her embarrassment as she drank.

  ‘Thanks. Do you have everything you need? Toiletries and things, I mean?’

  ‘I borrowed your shower gel. Hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all. Anything else?’

  ‘I’m good. So, are you okay? With the row and everything?’

  Mattie was touched by Pru’s concern, but the answer to that question evaded her. She wouldn’t know how she really felt until it was all over. Gil was going home after the meeting with Alys tomorrow, and then all efforts would be ploughed into making the concert happen. After that . . . she wasn’t sure.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ‘Someone Loves You, Joe’ – The Lana Sisters

  In the early hours of the morning, Mattie checked Pru was asleep and reached for Grandpa Joe’s diary. She needed to feel close to him again, her heart still reeling from the row with Gil. The meeting with Alys Davis was hours away, with a long drive after that, and she knew she should be sleeping – but her mind was too awake. The gig was getting closer and she still didn’t know why Joe Bell had missed the original date. The small plastic star Gil had given her fell out onto the bed sheets, its glow long gone. The sight was impossibly sad. Tossing it to the floor, she turned her burning eyes to the diary page:

  Sunday, 9 September 1956

  I’ve made a decision. I’m going to ask Una to marry me.

  In all my life I will never find another woman like her. But I can’t be with her in the way we both want without knowing we are fully committe
d. I might be old-fashioned in a town where everyone else seems to be hopping in and out of bed with each other, but that is how it is. I want to cherish her, to treat her as a rare gem, not a commodity. For me, this means marriage. I can’t imagine living without her in my arms.

  I confided in Len. He’s sworn to keep it secret. I needed to know what their father’s reaction might be to my request, but Len said he died some years back. So, in lieu of a father to ask permission, I asked Len. I think he was quite touched! I told him I intend to look after his sister and that I’ve been saving my wages for some months now and I am pleased with how much I’ve been able to put by. I want to ensure security for us for at least the first six months – and I want Una to have a beautiful ring. She deserves the best. Uncle C has offered me a better position within his company and it comes with more money, so I can at least offer her a decent living. What she earns as a dancer isn’t much, but together we may be able to afford a modest home. Mother and Father will be shocked, I dare say. But when they meet Una, I’m confident they will love her as much as I do. I have never been more certain of anything. I love her and she loves me. What more reason do we need?

  I’m meeting her after the last number on Friday night at the PG. I’ve told her it’s important. I think she knows what I’m going to ask . . .

  Mattie stared at Joe’s words, letting them percolate through her tired mind. People married younger in the fifties, she understood that, but this decision seemed out of character, even for the brave young man emerging from the diary pages. He was in love and rebellious, but choosing to spend the rest of his life with Una was a big step. She had to know Una’s answer. She turned to the next entry, revealing the truth:

  Friday, 14 September 1956

  Tonight I asked Una Myers to be my wife. And she said no.

  I can’t write any more. There is nothing to say.

  Sixty years and a lifetime away from the event, Joe Bell’s pain was tangible. Mattie’s hand flew to her mouth as the starkness of Grandpa Joe’s words struck her a body blow. Why did it matter now that he’d been turned down? If Una had accepted, Mattie wouldn’t even exist today – yet there was something in her grandfather’s distress that reached forward through the years to touch her heart.

  Unsettled, she got out of bed and paced into the bathroom, her thoughts returning to Gil. She had to find a way to get through the next few days. She didn’t want to have to go through the final Silver Five reconciliation today with the effects of their row hanging over them. That would be unbearable.

  In the silence of her hotel room, she made a decision: she was going to talk to him.

  By seven-thirty she could wait no longer, even though she still wasn’t sure what she would say to him. If she wanted to be able to get through the next couple of days, she needed to call a truce.

  Slipping out of her room, she hurried down the corridor to his room. Would he be sleeping? Or had the events of last night kept him awake, too? Steeling herself, she knocked . . .

  . . . but the door swung open, daylight from the already-opened curtains revealing a stripped bed with an industrial vacuum cleaner leaning against its base.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, her heart in her throat. ‘Gil?’

  A tiny lady with a hesitant smile appeared in the doorway to the room’s en-suite bathroom. ‘Good morning. Can I help you?’

  ‘I’m looking for my friends who were staying in this room. Have you seen them?’

  ‘The younger man went to breakfast at six-thirty.’

  ‘And the other?’ Mattie asked, already fearing the answer.

  ‘Oh, he left. Early.’

  ‘Do you know what time?’

  The woman shrugged. ‘I just came in when the young man left. That’s all I know, sorry.’

  He’d gone? Without trying to talk to her? And what did this mean for the concert? With a ball of dread forming in her stomach, Mattie hurried down to the reception desk, almost sending the brass bell skidding across its polished wood as she hit it.

  ‘Can I help – er – madam?’ the receptionist asked, scurrying out of the room behind and peering at Mattie as if he wasn’t sure she was safe or sane.

  ‘One of the guests in Room 12 – Gil Kendrick – could you tell me if he checked out this morning?’

  ‘Is Mr Kendrick a friend?’

  That was a question Mattie couldn’t answer in all honesty. ‘He’s a member of my party,’ she opted for. ‘And was due to stay one more night.’

  The receptionist’s frown relaxed. ‘Ah, right. Let me just check for you . . .’ He tapped on a keyboard and squinted at a computer screen embedded in the reception desk. ‘Here we are. Mr Kendrick left just after six this morning. My colleague called a taxi for him and I believe he was heading for Abergavenny station. Oh, hang on . . .’ He turned to a bank of boxes behind the desk and took a folded sheet of notepaper from one of them. ‘Are you Miss Bell, Room 8?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Kendrick left this for you.’

  Mattie accepted it, the sight of her name in Gil’s handwriting making everything else fade into the background. At least this was something . . .

  ‘Anything else I can help with?’

  Distracted, she sent a vague smile in his direction. ‘No, um . . . thank you.’

  She wandered from the desk and pushed open the large oak and glass door into the cool, fresh dampness of the morning outside. The sound of rushing water and breeze in the tall trees surrounding the hotel filled her ears, and she moved towards the small garden, the River Usk visible now where last night it had been hidden. A group of picnic tables had been arranged beside the drystone wall and she chose the one furthest away from the hotel entrance to sit, hardly noticing when the early-morning dew soaked into her jeans.

  She unfolded the note.

  Mattie

  The gig’s still on. But I can’t do another day on the tour.

  I hope you understand why.

  Gil

  That was it? No mention of the argument? It all felt too clinical, too final. There was no emotion in the note. Everything he had said to Mattie before last night – the warm words and tender kisses that had promised so much – was gone. Mattie stared down at the fast-flowing water beside the garden, her thoughts as difficult to pinpoint as the swirling eddies of the Usk.

  So, that’s the end of it.

  She hated herself for feeling so betrayed; and more, for letting herself fall so quickly for someone she barely knew. In that respect, she and Joe Bell had much in common. Touching the cold, dew-damp wood of the picnic table, she filled her lungs with Brecon air and banished every thought of Gil Kendrick from her mind. She had work to do, a concert to prepare for; and that was all.

  Chapter Thirty

  ‘Won’t You Come Along with Me?’ – Nat Couty & the Braves

  ‘I still can’t believe he just left.’

  ‘I suppose he had his reasons.’

  ‘He’s an idiot. There’s a reason.’

  ‘Pru! You didn’t see how upset he was last night.’

  ‘And you didn’t see how upset she was, Kel.’

  Mattie kept her eyes on the road as the not-so-whispered row in the back seat raged on. Kelvin and Pru had received the news of Gil’s departure with shock. But with each only knowing their half of the story with what they’d witnessed last night, who could blame them? Gil’s letter had been passed around the breakfast table like a vital scrap of evidence in a manhunt, but returned to Mattie like a cryptic crossword puzzle nobody could solve. She checked the satnav, seeing the chequered flag of their destination approaching, and cut across the debate.

  ‘Looks like we’re here.’

  ‘Wow!’ Kelvin exclaimed, scrabbling for his iPhone as the camper van pulled up at a set of enormous steel and iron gates. ‘I’ve got to get a photo of this.’

  Pru grabbed his arm. ‘Careful. You don’t want to upset her. She’s probably got Rottweilers on the other side of those gates. And armed guards.’

>   ‘Baby Alys never needed security when she was in the group,’ Reenie scoffed, craning her neck to look up at the gates. ‘We’re less than ten miles from Abergavenny. Who’s going to try breaking in here, eh? Sheep? Posh ramblers?’

  Mattie stared up at the metal fortifications. They wouldn’t have looked out of place in front of a Hollywood mansion, or perhaps a military compound in the Middle East, but here on the outskirts of a pretty village on the edge of the Brecon Beacons National Park, they were incongruously large and obtrusive. ‘She’s famous now, though. People in the public eye have to be more careful about security these days, don’t they?’

  Reenie glared at her. ‘I’m famous, kid. I’m in the public eye. But you don’t see me sticking bulletproof glass in my cottage windows or hiring Arnold Swarfega to be my bodyguard, do you?’

  Kelvin sniggered in the back seat.

  ‘It’s Schwarzenegger, Reenie. And Alys might have very good reasons for wanting to feel safe in her home.’

  ‘I’ll bet. Probably keeping the taxman out,’ Reenie muttered darkly. ‘You don’t get that rich doing a parochial chat show and the odd Eisteddfod, trust me.’

  ‘Let’s just get in and do what we have to, okay?’ Mattie wound down the driver’s window and pressed a sleek grey button by the side of the gates. After a few seconds, the small speaker crackled into life.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Oh, hi. Matilda Bell and Reenie Silver to see Miss Davis, please.’

  There was the sound of rustling paper and a mumbling Mattie couldn’t make out, then the officious voice returned. ‘You’re early.’ It was more of an accusation than a compliment. ‘You’ll have to wait on the drive inside the gates until Miss Davis is ready to see you.’ The speaker snapped off, and a loud click indicated the gates were opening. ‘. . . Wait on the drive? My arse,’ Reenie scoffed, jamming her arms across her ample chest. ‘Nobody tells Reenie Silver to wait on a bleedin’ drive!’

  Mattie parked the camper van and turned to her friend. ‘Right, listen to me. I know it’s been a long journey to get here, and I understand the row with Gil last night hasn’t helped your mood. But this is our last stop, Reenie. Our last stop. Once this meeting is over we’re back down to London for the concert tomorrow, and then it’ll all be over. We have everyone who is able to join us signed up to this gig so far. And whatever you think of Alys, we have to make this work. For your sake, for the group – and for Chuck. You said you were doing this for him now, remember? Well, nothing’s changed. So let’s just meet Alys, ask her to join us and then we can make the rest happen. Agreed?’