Searching for a Silver Lining

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘Just after you left, actually. I didn’t say anything before because I didn’t want to jinx it. You know how I’ve rushed into stuff in the past. I know the age gap is – well – huge, but he’s wonderful, M! I can’t tell you the laughs we’ve had. So much in common, too. Apart from him being hospital-admission-level allergic to dogs, which was a bit of an issue. But we’re working on that.’ She paused, and Mattie pictured her assistant chewing the end of the biro that was always by her phone. ‘I really like him.’

  Nothing could surprise Mattie today, not after all the recent shocks she’d encountered. ‘I’m thrilled for you both. I want to hear all about it.’

  Picking over the enormous Caesar salad that room service had delivered almost an hour earlier, Mattie scrolled through the available TV channels, settled on a rerun of George Clarke’s Amazing Spaces and opened the next page of Grandpa Joe’s diary. The revelation of his proposal – and Una’s refusal to marry him – had played on her mind all day, and she was keen to find out what had happened next.

  Sunday, 23 September 1956

  I should have slept with her. Maybe if I had she would still be mine. Then I wouldn’t have made an almighty fool of myself trying to propose, and she wouldn’t have taken offence thinking I was calling her a scarlet woman. She called me a stupid country boy and is refusing to see me.

  I can’t eat or sleep. Uncle C has called out the doctor, thinking I’m ill. But there’s nothing he could give me for a broken heart. He suggested bed rest, so Mrs J is force-feeding me tea and bread. I have no desire to tell them what has happened, or to admit I’ve been lying to them, so I’m playing the invalid. I feel so awful about everything, but what can I do?

  Mattie stared at the considerable portion of chicken and salad she had yet to tackle. Loss of appetite was another thing she had in common with Joe Bell. She pushed her plate aside, not wanting to consider that Gil might have affected her as much as Una had Grandpa Joe. It wouldn’t help to think like that – not when tomorrow she would have to face him again. Closing the diary, she shut her eyes and let the sleep that had been so absent last night finally claim her.

  An atmosphere of calm descended inside Rusty on the journey back across the border towards London. The M4 was mercifully free-flowing, and Mattie put the cares of the recent past to rest as she let the radio and the rise and fall of her passengers’ conversation soothe her. The satnav screen marked off each mile driven closer to their destination and the further they travelled, the more Mattie realised she was on the cusp of achieving her dream. Her silver sixpence tiepin caught the sunlight where it was pinned to the folds of her deep burgundy scarf, occasionally throwing a small, oval circle up onto the grey fabric of the camper van’s ceiling, dancing across its surface. It was almost as if Grandpa Joe was playing a game with her, catching sunbeams with a magnifying glass and projecting them onto a wall for her to catch. Was he watching them heading to the club where he and Una had first laid eyes on one another?

  A snort of laughter from Reenie suddenly summoned Mattie from her thoughts, and she glanced down at the speedometer. Wait – 40 mph? How had she been driving so slowly? A look at her watch and a quick mental calculation confirmed her fears: time was not on their side.

  Kelvin and Pru were due to be dropped at Beaconsfield services on the M40, and Mattie knew Reenie would need a comfort break before the last push into London. The rest of The Silver Five were arriving at Kendrick’s around four-thirty for a five p.m. sound-check, and if the traffic was bad on the last section they would be cutting it fine.

  Instinctively, Mattie pressed her foot on the accelerator, watching the speedometer needle shakily respond . . .

  45 . . . 50 . . . 55 . . .

  Steady 56 mph maximum all the way, Steve the mechanic’s voice warned from her mind. If you push the van it won’t cope . . .

  60 . . . 65 . . . 70 . . .

  The satnav beeped to warn her of mobile cameras, and she pulled back only slightly. She needed to push it if they were to have any hope of getting there in time. Willing all her strength into Rusty’s creakily objecting frame, she pressed on.

  Precious minutes began to shave off the satnav’s estimated arrival time and soon it became an addictive game, Mattie congratulating herself for each sixty seconds taken off the small white box on the screen. She was going to get them all to the service station in plenty of time and deliver Reenie to the restored Palm Grove in a manner befitting a star of her calibre. It was all part of Mattie’s determination to make the plan work, to see it through to the final, triumphant event. No matter what Gil or anyone else thought.

  When the service station appeared ahead, Mattie felt as if the road was applauding her, the pronounced bump-bump of Rusty’s wheels over the worn tarmac noticeably louder as she slowed to pull into the car park. They had arrived with more than enough time to spare, and she was relishing the prospect of a small rest before the final leg of the journey.

  As the rest of the team headed into the services, Mattie patted Rusty’s bonnet. ‘Well done, old friend. Just the last bit to get us to the gig, and then we can go home.’

  Confident all was well, she joined Pru and Kelvin, hurrying over to the entrance to the ladies’ loo when she saw Reenie emerging.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be fine after I’ve had coffee,’ she said.

  ‘What time is your mum picking you up?’ Mattie asked Kelvin.

  ‘Three,’ he said. ‘Which gives us time to call Pru’s Mum.’

  Pru let out a long groan, but brightened a little when Kelvin hesitantly took her hand.

  Mattie and Reenie exchanged glances.

  ‘We talked it over last night,’ Pru said. ‘We talked about a lot of things, actually. Kel’s right. I need to talk to Mum again, give her the chance to listen. I’m still reserving the right to walk out for good if things don’t improve, though. And I’m not moving back yet.’

  ‘Mum says Pru can have the spare room at ours.’

  Reenie smiled. ‘She sounds a good sort, your mum. And yours might be trickier, Pru, but it’s worth trying.’

  ‘I know.’ Pru smiled at Kelvin, and Mattie wondered what else they might have discussed. Certainly the pair had been noticeably closer since leaving the hotel in Crickhowell that morning. ‘Thanks again, Mattie, Reenie, for having us on board. When things settle down, Kel and I will come up to see you.’

  ‘You make sure you do,’ Reenie beamed, wagging a grandmotherly finger at them. ‘I’ll be wanting to hear all your news.’

  ‘I’m sorry we’ll be missing the gig. But it’s bound to be epic,’ Kelvin grinned. ‘By the way, have you seen the Kendrick’s website today?’

  ‘No. Should I have?’

  ‘Here . . .’ He found the page on his phone and passed it across the table.

  On the News section a new entry gave details of the reunion gig, a large red SOLD OUT banner spread across the top.

  The Silver Five, who were top of the hit parade for four years in the early 1950s, are re-forming after sixty years for a final, once-in-a-lifetime concert this week at Kendrick’s. And in their honour, the club is being transformed back to its former glory as the famous Palm Grove. Owners Colm and Gil Kendrick have masterminded the transformation – watch the video below to see it taking shape . . .

  Below the article a time-lapse video played, revealing the changes in the club that had been taking place while Mattie, Reenie and Gil had been away. In speeded-up motion dustsheets were laid out, tables and chairs replaced, screens painted the original colours of the Palm Grove erected in front of the black walls and an enormous chandelier brought in and hung over the re-laid dance floor. Towards the end, Mattie peered closer to see if she could catch sight of Gil, but he was nowhere to be seen. When it ended, she turned to Reenie.

  ‘It’s going to look amazing. And great news about the ticket sales.’

  ‘Final, once-in-a-lifetime concert,’ Reenie mumbled, her hand gripping the edge of the tabl
e like a claw. ‘Final.’

  In the middle of the packed café, Reenie Silver began to cry. Huge tears rolled from her eyes, splashing over the wood veneer of the table, her loud sobs rising above the white noise of the service station. Kelvin and Pru looked on in alarm, and complete strangers stopped to stare at the old lady breaking her heart at the next table.

  Shocked, Mattie reached for her hand. ‘Reenie? What’s the matter?’

  ‘This is it, isn’t it? My final gig.’

  ‘The last one with The Silver Five.’

  Reenie’s lilac curls shook in angry defiance. ‘My last gig. After tonight it’s over, Mattie, don’t you see? Everything’s done. I’ll be forgotten. No more Reenie Silver, world-famous singer. Just Irene Silverman with a dodgy old hip and a bagload of medication. Nobody will need me anymore. You’ll drop me back at Beauvale tomorrow and forget all about me.’

  Where was this coming from? ‘Of course I won’t. We’re friends, Reenie.’

  ‘You think that now, but ask yourself, what use will I be to you once this gig is done? Once you’ve made it up to your grandpa? You’ve heard all my tales, kid. You know my story. What else can I give you?’

  ‘You, you daft old lady! This might have started because of Grandpa Joe, but he isn’t the reason I’m still here. You’re one of a kind. Spending this time with you has been precious to me. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.’ Even Gil, she added silently.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘Even the karaoke?’

  Mattie grinned. ‘Even that.’

  Reenie looked up at her. ‘You’re one in a million, Mattie Bell. My career might come to an end tonight, but it’s good to have you.’

  ‘I don’t believe you’re finished,’ Mattie said, her voice gentle. ‘And even if this is the last big gig, why not make it one last hurrah? Tonight, at the Palm Grove. You’ve made this happen, remember? You’ve brought Tommy, June and Alys back together and healed a rift that’s lasted for almost sixty years. That’s incredible. You’re incredible.’

  Reenie sniffed. ‘You’re not so bad yourself. Kids, we should probably be going. Come and see us off?’

  Relieved that their new friend had regained her composure, Pru and Kelvin readily agreed. The four remaining road-trip members made steady progress across the wide car park towards Rusty.

  ‘It’s been fun,’ Pru said, bumping her arm slightly against Mattie’s. ‘Thanks for the chat the other night. For listening, too. And sorry about – you know – thick blokes.’

  ‘Don’t mention it. I hope your mum listens to you.’

  ‘Keep talking at her, eh?’

  ‘It’s worth a shot. At least you’ll be able to say you tried.’

  ‘Now I want to hear that you’re both safe home, right?’ Reenie said, patting Kelvin’s arm as he led her between the rows of parked cars. ‘You have my number. And I shall expect a visit soon.’

  By the side of the camper van they said goodbye, Kelvin kissing Reenie and Pru surprising Mattie by giving her a hearty hug.

  ‘I’ll miss those kids,’ Reenie said, when she and Mattie were buckled in. ‘Good hearts, both of them. So, Miss Bell, are we ready for the final leg?’

  Mattie took a deep breath. ‘I think we are.’ She reached over . . . and the key seemed to stick in Rusty’s ignition. Keeping her smile steady, she tried again. ‘Come on, dude,’ she urged. ‘Don’t be awkward.’

  ‘Talking to your car. It’s one thing I’ll never understand about you.’

  ‘Sometimes it helps.’

  The key finally shifted and Rusty let out a metallic, gut-wrenching sigh – then, nothing. Mattie tried again with the same result, a puff of acrid black smoke rising from the exhaust.

  ‘No-no-no, don’t do this,’ Mattie growled at her beloved van, frantically trying to coax the engine into life. ‘Don’t you dare do this to me. Not now . . .’

  ‘Very funny, kid. Now let’s get going.’

  ‘He won’t start.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Mattie turned to Reenie. ‘I can’t start the van.’

  ‘Of course you can. Just try again.’

  ‘I am trying. Look – nothing’s happening.’

  ‘So, what are you saying? Can you get it working again?’

  Panic squeezed Mattie’s voice. This couldn’t be happening. Not now! Not when they were so close to completing their journey . . . ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘You are joking.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  Reenie threw up her hands. ‘Oh, well this is magnificent, isn’t it? We’re supposed to be sound-checking in two hours – how are we meant to get there if your camper van won’t take us?’

  ‘I don’t know! This isn’t my fault.’ Mattie had to think, and the current rapidly chilling climate in Rusty’s heart didn’t help her.

  ‘I don’t see anyone else here with the keys. Maybe if we’d had reliable transport in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

  ‘He has been reliable – until now.’

  ‘It is a vehicle, Mattie Bell, not a bleedin’ relative! Call the breakdown people; say you have funds to cover repairs on the spot if they get someone here smartish. I’ll foot the bill.’

  Mattie stared at her. ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘And how else are we going to make this bleedin’ concert, hmm? Exactly. Make the call.’

  Mattie was still shaking as she left Rusty and walked a little way away with her phone. Heart heavy, she found the breakdown service number and called. It seemed like almost sixty years until her call was fished out of hold-muzak hell, and she allowed herself to breathe as a breakdown service call-centre worker took her details and passed her on to a local garage.

  ‘Old girl let you down, has she?’ the too-happy mechanic on the end of the line asked. ‘I’ll get one of the lads out to you as soon as I can.’

  ‘That’s brilliant, thank you. We really need to be getting back on the road as soon as possible today.’

  ‘Today?’ Never had one word been imbued with such incredulity.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, I thought I’d explained: we’ve broken down on our way to a very important event tonight and we have to be in London by four-thirty p.m. at the latest.’

  The ominous sound of someone shuffling paper came from the other end of the call. Mattie’s heart began to head towards the tarmac.

  ‘I’m sorry. We’d have to bring the van in. I have three tow trucks and they’re all out on jobs. It will be at least an hour till we get to you, and then I’ll need to take a look at her here.’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  The mechanic gave a heavy sigh and Mattie wondered how many callers he’d had to deliver bad news to today. ‘Look, you have my sympathy,’ he said, the kindness in his tone giving her no comfort at all. ‘But between you and me, the chances of fixing a vintage camper van and getting it back on the road today are pretty much non-existent. My brother has a ’67 VW Splitty, and when it broke down last time he was off the road for a month. I mean, parts are hard to come by – as you’ll know. It might be worth finding another mode of transport. Could you call a taxi from where you are?’

  A taxi from Beaconsfield services on the M40 to central London? How much would that cost? She couldn’t ask Reenie to pay for that as well – especially not after the row they’d just had.

  ‘So, what am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Hang tight. We’ll bring the van in as soon as we can. I’ll call you when someone’s on the way out to you.’

  Ending the call, Mattie cried out in frustration, a disgruntled seagull leaving a half-eaten box of French fries in disgust as she did so. She turned slowly to face Reenie’s smugness – but the old lady wasn’t in the passenger seat. The door stood wide open, as if she’d been kidnapped while Mattie’s back was turned.

  ‘Reenie?’

  She walked to the camper van, ducking her head inside to see if Reenie might be hiding in the back.
But there was no sign of her: her handbag had gone from the footwell by her seat, and only a diminishing cloud of perfume remained as evidence she had been there at all. Then an awful possibility dawned on her: had Reenie Silver done another bunk, on the eve of her chance to make up for the last one?

  The full horror was just beginning to sink in when she saw Pru and Kelvin walking towards her.

  ‘Is everything okay? We noticed you hadn’t gone.’

  ‘Rusty – my van won’t start. I’ve called a garage, but it could be an hour until they can send someone to pick him up. By then it’ll be too late. And now Reenie – have you seen her?’

  ‘We thought she was still with you,’ Pru said, looking over at the open passenger door. ‘Oh . . .’

  ‘We could wait until the tow truck arrives, if you can find another way to the gig,’ Kelvin offered. ‘Mum won’t be here for ages, and I’m sure she’d hang on if they were longer than that.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. Thanks anyway, Kelvin.’

  ‘But Reenie has to be at the sound-check. It’s the only rehearsal they’ll all get before the gig,’ Kelvin argued. ‘And you can’t have driven all that way just to miss it. Give me the keys, and see if you can get a taxi or something.’

  Mattie looked at Rusty – poor, exhausted Rusty who had valiantly carried them nearly one thousand miles in the last eleven days. She felt as if she was abandoning him, but Kelvin was right. Reenie couldn’t miss the sound-check; it wasn’t as if the group could just wing it, sixty years after their last rehearsal. Reluctantly, she handed over the keys.

  ‘Okay. Tell the garage I’ll settle the bill tomorrow. Thank you.’

  ‘So, where is Reenie?’ Kelvin asked.

  ‘I don’t know. She could have gone back inside, I suppose . . .’ A deep sense of dread had taken residence in Mattie’s gut, and was spreading. What if Reenie had gone for good? There was a very real chance that the concert Mattie had worked so hard to put on would simply repeat history, sixty years on: an incomplete Silver Five, reeling in the wake of their lead singer’s departure.