This new world, with its glamorous presidents, pop stars and two channels of rubbishy television was not one she felt comfortable with any more: all that talk of sex and money and power. No one seemed satisfied with their lot. Macmillan was right, they’d never had it so good, but look what a mess the Continent was in.
It was dreadful to hanker after the past, not the future. It troubled her. How could she advise this new generation as head of the household if she didn’t keep up with affairs?
Her children didn’t need her any more, or their children. She was good for baby-sitting, presents at Christmas and not much else. Old age was not for cowards. She’d felt so tired lately and all she was fit for was a good read and a cup of cocoa.
Then came the knock at the front door, shaking her awake. Who was that? She was glad she’d had a chain fitted to the door.
‘Who is it?’ she shouted, holding her silver-topped walking cane for good measure.
‘Only me, Gran … Connie!’
Esme opened the door, all fingers and thumbs. Something must be up but there she was, all legs and hair, with Freddie’s cheeky grin on her face.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late but I’ve a favour to ask.’
‘Don’t stand there, come in. Put the kettle on. It’s never too late to see a smiling face. I’m glad you’ve called. I was wanting a word.’
‘About what?’ The girl’s face changed at once. ‘What’s up? You’re not ill?’
‘Just make us some cocoa and put a bit of rum in it. The doc recommends it for a good night’s sleep.’
‘Gran, you devil! You’re supposed to be TT,’ Connie laughed.
‘And you’re supposed to be at home with your textbooks.’
‘We did a great gig in Bolton tonight. Marty’s got an audition for Search for Stars with Carroll Leavis. Isn’t that great?’
‘Marty who?’
‘Martin Gorman … Rick Romero … the wedding band. Honest, Gran, you were there, didn’t you hear them?’
‘I saw you dancing like a savage.’
‘I knew you’d say that.’
‘So Billy Gorman’s son is flavour of the month. They’re Catholics, and we don’t mix, as a rule.’
‘That’s old hat! This is the sixties; no one bothers about that now.’
‘Oh, but they do, young lady. Scratch under the surface and Marty Gorman will be looking for a nice girl from Our Lady of Sorrows – a Rosa, for instance. She’s a left footer, not someone of our persuasion.’
‘That’s just bigotry. You’ll love him when you meet him. He’s so good on stage and he’s got his big chance, thanks to Neville.’
‘What’s our Neville got to do with the price of fish?’
‘He knows someone in Manchester who fixed them an audition.’
‘And where might you fit into all this? You’ve got exams in a month.’
‘I can always take them next year. That’s what I came to ask you. Can I borrow some money for a trip? We’re going to do a student gig in Switzerland. I can go with them. I want to see what it’s like, help behind the scenes. I’ve been writing a few songs … strumming a bit. I’ve got loads of ideas. Oh, please, Gran.’ Freddie’s blue eyes were suddenly pleading in her direction. ‘I never got to go on the school trip.’
‘How will you get there?’
‘We’ve got a new Transit – well, almost newish. We’ll take camping stoves and sleeping bags, roughing it like in Guide camp. It’s just I need the ferry crossing and spends until we earn out at the gig. I’ll get a little wage.’
‘I wouldn’t begrudge you a holiday after all you’ve been through. You can pay me back by being a help to Su with the boarding house now that Ana—’ Esme saw the girl’s eyes filling up. ‘I know it’s been hard for you, and with Joy getting wed … a break after the exams’ll do you good.’
‘No, Gran. That’s the point. I can’t do the exams this year. I’ll do them next when I’m eighteen. We’re going in two weeks.’
Esme felt weak at the knees at this news. ‘You’ve studied for two years in the fast stream. It’s what your mother would’ve wanted for you, Connie.’
‘I know, but it can wait and this can’t. I just have to go with Marty.’
‘Are you going to be living with those boys in a van?’
‘And their girlfriends too. It’s all very respectable.’ Connie never could lie and her cheeks were flushing up.
‘You be careful. I hope young Gorman is a gentleman.’ Now it was Esme’s turn to blush. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Oh, it’s not like that.’
‘It’s always like that when lads and lassies mix. If he’s a good Catholic boy, there’ll be … no precautions taken.’
‘Gra-an! We’re not like that.’
‘Given a week in a van and you will be. You’re too young and I don’t want any more trouble in the family. It’s been bad enough …’
‘Just because Freddie couldn’t keep his flies buttoned up, I shouldn’t be punished.’
‘This is not punishment. It’s an order. You have exams and our reputation. Be reasonable. Plenty of time for trips after your exams are over. That’s all I’m asking.’
‘But I want to go now.’
‘I know you do, but not with my money you don’t. Want doesn’t get every time. So think on. Just be patient. There’s a whole world ahead of you.’
‘Not if they drop a nuclear bomb on us, there isn’t,’ Connie replied.
‘Don’t cheek your elders. We know best, and going off, living over the brush with some chap in a van is not the Winstanley way, and there’s an end to it!’
‘It’s not fair. I bet if I were a boy you wouldn’t mind. Nev can stay out all night and no one bothers.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. He’s over eighteen and knows his own mind and earns a wage. He doesn’t have studies to consider.’
‘Oh, bugger the studies. I’m off. If you won’t help me I’ll find someone who will.’ Connie jumped up and grabbed her scruffy duffel coat, her badges rattling, and fled out the front door, banging it so hard it nearly broke the window glass. Then there was silence.
Esme made for the cupboard and swigged down some neat rum. What did I say? How can the girl be so stupid as to ditch everything on a whim for a Gorman?
She sat back and sighed. There could be only one explanation. Connie was in the full flush of first love, a dangerous time. There’d be no reasoning with the child. Suddenly Esme was afraid.
Su was up early on the morning of Connie’s first History A level paper. It was a lovely June morning, wall-to-wall paraffin-blue sky. She wanted to make sure the girl got a decent breakfast down her for the long slog ahead.
At least the girl had stayed in, for once, and gone to bed early, washed and tidied up without the usual moan. She’d gone to see Jacob in his room and then said she had to swot and not to wake her too early.
Since Joy’s marriage, Su felt the draught of only one girl in the house and quiet Dr Friedmann kept himself to himself during term time. The two of them had gone out to the new Chinese restaurant in town. It wasn’t like Burmese food but she’d smelled the spices frying and it had brought back memories of home. The pictures of her life before Freddie were fading fast. She was an English lady now. Jacob was a good friend and it was nice to have an honourable man in the house. In Horace Milburn they’d harboured a Peeping Tom, so next time references would be examined more closely. She must be more careful. She felt so alone. When Ana was alive she longed for the house to herself: all those comings and goings at all hours of the day. Now she would love to see Ana poring over the newspaper, chattering away to herself as she concocted her spicy stews. The house was too silent. How she wished she could hear Ana and Connie spitting out one of their blazing rows.
She sighed. She was sure that Joy was expecting her first grandchild. What a happy event to come, if only the girl wasn’t so sick and thin-looking.
Su knocked on Connie’s door. ‘Eight o’cloc
k, rise and shine. Come to the cookhouse door, boys,’ she sang. There was no response. ‘Connie, wake up, don’t be late. It’s a big day!’ She opened the door gingerly. The room was tidy, too tidy. It smelled of smoky clothes and perfume. The bed was made but not slept in. It felt cold.
‘Connie?’ Perhaps she was in the new little bathroom, but that door was open.
‘Jacob!’ she cried, running down the attic stairs. He was busy gathering his papers into his briefcase. ‘Have you seen Connie go out?’
‘No.’ He looked up, puzzled. ‘But she did borrow ten pounds from me last night and a map. She’s planning a holiday abroad after the exams, I think. She asked for her papers and the passport we applied for for her when she was adopted. What’s up? Did I do wrong?’
‘No … but her school case is in her room and her uniform. Her bed is empty. I must see if the old rucksack is under the stairs … Oh, no, not on the day of her first exam … She wouldn’t just leave without a word. I’ll ring Joy. She will know.’
Su was shaking with the realisation that Connie had hoodwinked them.
Joy knew nothing, however, and was sleepy and perplexed. ‘Try Gran. She might know.’
Esme groaned at her news. ‘Why, that little minx! I told her she couldn’t go.’
‘Go where?’
‘To Switzerland, to some rock-and-roll do with her boyfriend and his band.’
‘The pop singer at the wedding … she’s eloped with him?’ Su was shaking even more now. ‘Not Connie … on the day of her exam. Ana would turn in her grave. How dare she do such a dishonourable thing? Why didn’t you warn me?’
There was a pause. ‘I thought my refusal was word enough. Evidently this young generation don’t respect their elders’ advice. It’ll end in tears and we’ll have to pick up the pieces. The disobedient puppy, to shame us like this. Wait until Ivy hears; she’ll make a meal out of this for years. I could slap her, I really could, and not a word.’
‘Now don’t get your blood pressure up, Daw Esme. You know what the doctor said,’ Su advised. ‘Take a tablet and lie down and we’ll sort it out this end.’
Jacob produced a cup of proper tea with no milk. Su sat down, suddenly weak and frustrated. She’d tried to do her best by Connie, but one minute she was all smiles and helpfulness, the next the door banged and there were sullen silences, hours spent in her room listening to those terrible records. She didn’t visit Joy or write to Rosa like she used to do. All she did was make a racket in the attic. She said she was composing music but Mozart never sounded like that.
‘Oh, Jacob,’ she sighed. ‘Where did I go wrong?’
He smiled from the doorway in his shabby tweed jacket and faded corduroys, which were shiny at the knees. ‘Drink your tea. The girl is over sixteen, old enough to take her life in her own hands, and who can blame the poor mixed-up child? She’ll learn that running away is easy enough, it’s staying away that’s harder.’
‘The selfish, thoughtless girl. She is shaming us all!’ Su sighed into her cup.
‘Susan, she’s young and impatient to spread her wings. Let her be. She’ll be back soon enough.’
‘Do we want her back, I am thinking.’
‘She is family and you are the only one she has. Think of Daedalus and his son, Icarus, who flew too high with his waxed wings. Youth has its own way of doing things. She has to learn maybe the hard way.’
Su smiled. Jacob was a good man. He had a way of seeing things. ‘You see the good in everyone.’
‘That is because I have no close ties to pick fault with.’
‘I’m sorry, I forget …’ She knew how much he missed his homeland. ‘But you wouldn’t want the Winstanleys. We’re a handful at the best of times. Look at the mess we make of things,’ Su added.
‘That’s better, you smile again,’ Jacob replied. ‘I think you Winstanleys are a force to be reckoned with. They brought you halfway across the world; you’ll bring Connie back in line one way or another. Now I must go. Let me know if I can do anything.’
‘I’ll pay you the money back,’ Su shouted after him.
‘Connie will do that. She has a good heart.’
Susan sat back smiling. If only all the other guests were as wise and kind as Jacob Friedmann.
14
Summer Holiday
Connie sat in the back of the Ford Transit, her heart thumping, leaning on the rucksack, trying to take in what she had just done: sneaking out of the house in the dark, meeting up at Jack’s place and driving south through the night. Now Jack, in his pork-pie hat, was blowing on his harmonica as if they were extras in the Summer Holiday film. His girlfriend, Sandy, was asleep over his lap, her eye make-up blotched round her eyes. Lorne Dobson was blotto already, smoking that stupid joint.
Marty and Des O’Malley were up front sharing the driving, while she was tucked up in a corner over the back wheels trying not to feel sick.
‘You’ve done it! Bye, school … bye bye, Grimbleton … au revoir, Winstanleys. No one can stop me now, she thought. Connie’s big adventure had begun and she’d no regrets. She was trying to stay cool but Lorne’s joint was getting to her. It always made her feel sick. They were on the A6 in Derbyshire somewhere. Looking for an all-night transport café.
Tony Amos was joining them in London. He’d arranged a special recording session in a top studio and she was part of the roadie team. This beat History A level Part I.
She felt mean, leaning on Dr Friedmann for some cash and getting him to find her passport. It had been part of the deal after Mama died that she became a Winstanley proper and she’d insisted on having a proper ten-year passport, not a visitor’s card.
All her market stall savings were drawn out of the Post Office. There was just about enough to pay her share until the band got paid. Everyone was used to sharing food, cigs, sleeping bags. She’d roughed it enough in the Guides at Auntie Lee’s camps to know how to keep clean. There was a letter in the post to Division Street, asking them not to worry and explaining why she must have this chance now.
She shared her sleeping bag with Marty but they hadn’t done much but the usual petting in the back of the van. He was very careful round her and she wondered if Gran’s warning was true that he’d prefer her to be a Catholic.
When he was on stage she watched other girls screaming at him and begging him to come to them. It made her feel so proud that he’d chosen her. When the screams died down she was the one to keep his bed warm. Now she was living her dream, even if her bones shook. This was the freedom of the open road, their own Route 66 across America, and Jack Kerouac, her beat hero, would be proud, even if this was only the A6 to London. They were living the dream: Rick Romero and the Rollercoasters, beat merchants in leathers, were on the road to fame. She looked around at the motley bunch, not sure what to make of them.
Jacko and Sandra were now a steady item. Lorne and Des took on the girls after the gigs and played the field. They liked a pint or five before a gig and came on smelling like a brewery.
Marty got short with them. ‘You’d better not mess up at the session. This is the big one, guys. You can get as high as you like afterwards.’
‘Yes, boss,’ they mocked.
Connie saw red. Didn’t they realise how rubbish they were after a skinful – slurring voices, silly antics on stage and losing the key? Why did they have to get so tanked up to perform? She’d tried the spliffs and the pills but couldn’t see the point. None of them was the better for them.
Des and Marty had to stay awake all night so Des produced a tin of Benzies to keep them alert. Then Marty wouldn’t sleep and needed some of Jack’s mum’s Valium for the jitters. Connie was too excited to need anything, just so grateful to be part of the gang. Wrapping her faithful old duffel round herself like a blanket, she tried to sleep. It was going to be a long night’s ride … what a good title for a song. She let the words float inside her head, found a pencil stub and her little jotting pad.
A long night’s ride from nowhe
re land …
Leaving it all behind
A long night’s ride to somewhere land … with
you by my side …
Marty drove through the garden suburbs at dawn and onto the golden stone of the city buildings. This was where it was all happening: the Beatles, Cliff and the Shadows, Johnny Kidd and the Pirates. Move over, boys, he grinned to himself. Rick and the Rollercoasters will be the next big thing.
Even at this hour, he’d never seen so much traffic – taxis, red buses – and tall grey office blocks loomed above them. Where did all these people come from? He felt small, scared and excited all at the same time, but he wanted to savour every minute of their experience. The recording session, the chance to meet an agent who was interested in them, and then on to the Continent for the gig in Switzerland at some international student gathering. One of Jacko’s mates, Billy Froggatt, had fixed it up for them. Marty had a sinking feeling there’d not be much dosh in it, just travelling expenses. The cellars of Hamburg it was not, but he could put Continental tour on his billing.
‘Let’s find the Two Is coffee bar,’ yelled Sandy. ‘Has anyone got a map?’
‘Park up first. I need another slash!’ yelled Lorne, who smelled like a Moroccan hookah wallah.
The Two Is on the Kings Road was where Marty’s heroes had been discovered. The rock-and-roll manager, Larry Parnes – ‘Mr Parnes Shillings and Pence’ – was the top dude on everyone’s lips. He could make or break you with one sneer or one telephone call: Parlaphone, EMI, Decca, Columbia … all the big record companies were here. To get a chart hit, their record must get to the ear of the right manager. It was hard graft, luck and good connections. They had to pull together and make some luck happen
The whiff in the van was getting worse. There were just too many of them and all their equipment as well. Sandy was the latest of Jacko’s conquests, pretty in the dollybird sort of way, but she was a useless hanger on. She was here for the ride, not like young Connie, who was already a star. She shoved the map from her rucksack. ‘Be prepared,’ she laughed. She had a good voice too. He’d heard her rehearsing lyrics in the back; a special kid, but he wished she hadn’t skipped her exams to jump on board. Sometimes she looked at him as if he were some god, and called him Rick instead of Marty.
Mothers and Daughters Page 16
