What Became of You My Love?

by Maeve Haran

  Stella looked at him in astonishment.

  ‘You really don’t think much of me, do you?’ Duncan asked.

  Stella shrugged. ‘Maybe it’s the sunglasses. Or the tennis shoes. Or maybe it’s your constant references to suburbia.’

  ‘Just the one. Appearances can be deceptive. I once thought you were shy and flower-like.’

  ‘So did Cameron.’ Stella stared at him, perplexed. ‘Plus you don’t look like the baby-changing type in that suit.’

  ‘As a matter of fact our tour manager used to bring her babies with her on the bus. I got to be quite a dab hand. And, of course, Cameron had five.’

  Stella found her diary and retrieved Ruby, who was happily batting Duncan Miller on the head with her toy rabbit.

  ‘Will Cameron be all right? Doesn’t he need to see a doctor or anything?’

  ‘Cameron likes to over-react. Five minutes ago he was talking sax solos with your husband. For an accountant, I hear he’s quite a good player.’

  ‘Yes,’ Stella quipped sharply, ‘I deprived him of his dreams of being a musician as soon as I’d wrecked Cameron’s by refusing to go to America.’

  ‘Nice work. And what else have you done with your life?’

  ‘Brought up my daughter Emma. Made a home. And now I paint pets.’ It probably didn’t sound much to someone in the international music business. ‘Speaking of which, I have a canine client arriving soon so Ruby and I will be in my studio, in case there are any more disasters.’

  Duncan bowed rather formally. ‘Let’s hope we won’t need to disturb you. Debora will get here as soon as she can so she can take looking after Cameron off your hands. And don’t worry, I’ll book her a room at The Glebe with me. Your husband says he’s happy for Cameron to stay on here.’

  ‘Oh does he?’ Stella was halfway across the lawn to her studio when it occurred to her that a bulldog, no matter how French, and a baby were not necessarily a good combination.

  She went back to the house to find Cameron and Matthew busy arguing over whether the sax player or the singer were the sexiest members of the band. Really, thought Stella crossly, they were like two old boys in a golf club bar.

  When Stella plopped the baby into Matthew’s arms, he looked astonished, as if she were some parcel that he hadn’t ordered and didn’t want.

  ‘It’s Ruby. Your grandchild. You need to look after her for an hour.’

  ‘I know she’s my grandchild, but as a matter of fact I was in the middle of a conversation.’

  ‘We can all look after her.’ Duncan propped Ruby up on a pile of cushions on the sofa next to Cameron, and delved into his pocket. ‘At her age keys always seem to do the trick.’

  Ruby grabbed his key ring enthusiastically and stuffed it into her mouth.

  ‘I’m not sure her mother would approve,’ Matthew commented grudgingly.

  ‘Well, her mother isn’t here,’ Stella snapped. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Duncan grinned, ‘we’ll get her to negotiate a few contracts for us.’

  The French bulldog owner was waiting for her outside the studio, a rather beautiful young man, which was perhaps not surprising since the French bulldog, with its pointy little ears and manageable size, was definitely the dog du jour.

  The distinguishing characteristic of this particular animal, apart from a studded collar with such sharp spikes you could just have thrown it at an assailant with potentially lethal consequences, was the fact that it was wearing socks. Those protective socks made out of blue J-cloth which builders wear on new carpet.

  ‘Millie lives in them at home,’ explained her owner. ‘I have white rugs and she keeps bringing mud in from the garden. OK if I pick her up at midday?’

  He had shot off in his open-top Mini before Stella got the chance to check if he wanted the portrait of the dog with the socks on or off.

  Despite her appearance, Millie was a gentle soul and they soon accomplished their task. Stella even had time to make herself a coffee and put her feet up when the phone rang. She looked at it suspiciously. Her attitude to all communication had become wary recently.

  Suze’s familiar tones reassured her. ‘Have you opened your post yet?’

  ‘Oh God, no more surprises! I don’t think I’m up to it.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s not another rock god.’

  ‘We haven’t got rid of the last one yet. And now his ex-wife’s arriving.’

  ‘Ooh, it’s like one of those TV reality shows.’

  ‘Yes, but this was my reality first and I was quite happy with it.’

  ‘No, you weren’t.’

  Stella decided to ignore this jibe. ‘So what will I find out?’

  ‘Stella, we’ve done it! We’ll need to do a proper business plan but the council have decided to let us have a go! They’ve agreed everything – the Local Area of Special Character, zero rates for new businesses, the lot! They’re giving us six months to see what we can achieve.’

  ‘But who’s “us”? We aren’t even a pressure group.’

  ‘We are now. The only thing is, how are we going to fund it? We’re going to need some money to set it all up.’

  A wicked smile spread across Stella’s face. ‘Cameron! Matthew was right, we’ll get him to do a gig. It doesn’t have to be huge, if we ask people who’ll give. We could even have it here in the garden. If he’s going to squat in my back garden using my electricity he can damn well contribute. I’m not having some rock ’n’ roll version of The Lady in the Van in my drive like Alan Bennett’s. His homeless lady stayed fifteen years!’

  ‘Absolutely! One thing, though. Who’s going to tell Matthew we’ve got the go ahead? You or me?’

  ‘I will. It’d be great if he got on board as well. He’d be brilliant at business plans.’

  But Matthew, when she approached him to suggest this, was having none of it. ‘This is your thing now. Look, Stella, my scheme was to have an art gallery, not this stupid Paint Your Pet scheme.’

  ‘It’s me who’s doing the painting, but actually, that’s a brilliant idea! People could paint their own pets. It might really catch on.’

  Matthew had always had the habit of ignoring other people if he didn’t agree with them. He employed it now.

  ‘And I suggested an advice shop for people in debt and a community supermarket – not some bloody supermarket chain.’

  ‘Yes, but Matthew, this isn’t The Archers! Camley’s a commuter town. Everyone’s too busy to run a community supermarket. The Brownies couldn’t even find a Brown Owl because everyone’s too busy.’

  ‘But they’ll find time to come to your outdoor cinema and your vintage market, will they?’

  ‘We’ll need businesses too, but at least the area might start looking inviting again.’

  ‘Look, Stella, I can see we’re not going to agree on this. Our ideas are just too different.’

  Stella turned away. The problem was that these days their ideas were too different on a whole lot of things.

  The next morning, Stella thought she might finally get on with some painting when Cameron, resplendent in a paisley dressing gown and a pair of pointy Moroccan slippers, knocked on the kitchen door and entered with a flourish. His personality was so large that it seemed to fill the whole kitchen. To Stella’s surprise he was carrying a tray with coffee and toast on it.

  ‘Stella, my darling, I was about to eat my meagre repast when I thought “breakfast in the garden”! It’s a glorious day. Will you come and join me?’

  Stella led him to the small table under a weeping willow at the far end of the garden.

  ‘But it’s huge!’ Cameron pointed out. ‘How did you end up with such a big garden?’

  ‘The previous owners bought the extra bit from our neighbours. They wanted to put in a swimming pool and never got round to it. The Huskies next door have never forgiven us. Sometimes I see her staring vengefully out of the window at our lawn. I think she probably sticks pins in a mock-up of my studio.�
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  As soon as he’d finished his coffee, Cameron demanded a tour. ‘I love living in California except for one thing. The weather.’

  ‘I thought that was what most people liked it for.’

  ‘No seasons. And Americans all call their gardens yards. They’re for parking or playing basketball in. Just look at this . . .’

  They started the tour at the very far end. There was a small pond where newts, waterboatmen and damsel flies scudded happily about in between the pink waterlilies and yellow flags. Cameron breathed in deeply. ‘Listen to the birdsong, it’s amazing. You’d never know we were only twelve miles from London!’

  ‘I didn’t know you were such a romantic, Cameron.’

  He took her hand and bowed like an old-fashioned courtier. ‘I’ve always been a romantic. That’s why I keep getting married. I live in hope.’

  ‘Tell me about your wives.’

  ‘Debora’s a great gal, but so . . . wifely. Halle is just about the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen and Roxy – Roxy is marvellous. She calls herself an “everyday feminist”. I still have no idea why she married me. She’s embarrassingly unmercenary. I thought she might divorce me on behalf of all women, but she’s extremely kind.’ They had arrived at Stella’s studio. Not quite sure why, Stella hesitated at the door.

  ‘Come on, show me.’

  As they entered, Cameron produced a bottle of champagne from his dressing gown pocket and hunted for glasses. They ended up sipping champagne from paint jars as Cameron studied all the work she’d put on the walls.

  ‘You’re really talented, you know, Stella. I think animals have souls and you have caught them.’ He turned suddenly. ‘In fact, you are a proper woman – the way you manage things – just one husband, family, work, garden, home. You have made a great success of your life.’

  Stella, who didn’t think she had made a success of life at all, found herself glowing nevertheless in this unlikely approval from one of the world’s best-known rock stars.

  ‘Do you ever think about it, Stell? Being young when we were?’ He raised her hand to his lips and perhaps because she was feeling so unappreciated by Matthew, she felt for one, brief moment like the innocent young girl who had so inspired him.

  ‘Yes, we were. It was an amazing moment. And thank you for the song, I feel very honoured to have inspired an anthem.’

  She was surprised that his reaction was almost bashful in someone so larger than life. ‘You were an inspirational girl.’ He looked away and added suddenly, ‘And not just to me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I think I’d better get back. Wouldn’t want your husband finding me with you en déshabillé, would we?’

  They started to walk back to the house.

  Stella noticed Mrs Husky listening in just the other side of the fence. ‘Of course I want to go to bed with you, Cameron,’ Stella announced in an extra-loud voice for her neighbour’s benefit. ‘Would you like me to lay on some groupies too?’

  ‘You’re a very naughty girl, Stella Ainsworth,’ Cameron announced, chucking his champagne bottle over the fence with impressive precision.

  Stella was still laughing when Suze arrived. ‘You look happy.’

  ‘Having Cameron around is very diverting.’

  ‘Don’t get too diverted. His wife’s arriving soon.’

  ‘Number One or Three?’

  ‘One.’

  ‘What do you think she’s like? Stick thin with a blaze of blonde hair like Alana Stewart? Or dark and sophisticated like Bianca Jagger?’

  ‘I have no idea. Let’s find out what time she’s due and you can come and find out.’

  The following day they were both waiting eagerly in the kitchen when Duncan arrived with Debora, straight from the airport. Stella had expected a mound of luggage of Joan Collins proportions in the hall, and was stunned to see one small carry-on bag. Maybe the rest was still in the car.

  ‘Tea or G and T, do you think?’ she whispered to Suze.

  ‘Oh G and T, definitely. She’ll be used to the rock-chick lifestyle.’

  ‘Or in my case,’ a warm, friendly voice interrupted them, ‘rock hen.’

  A motherly looking woman in jeans and a jumper over a simple white blouse, decorated with a single string of pearls, stood smiling at them. She looked as if she had stepped from the pages of Country Life rather than Rolling Stone.

  ‘Hello, I’m Debora. And firstly I have to apologize for Cameron descending on you like this. I’m afraid he’s totally unaware of anyone’s needs but his own. I’ve tried to persuade him to come to The Glebe with me. But no dice. I’m afraid he’s rather taken to your husband.’

  ‘And to think I assumed it was me he had come looking for after all these years. Something about wanting my extraordinary glowing innocence to re-inspire him.’

  ‘Of course, that was before he met you again.’ They all turned in surprise at Duncan Miller’s ironic tone. He stood holding a laminated folder.

  ‘I’m sure he believes it too,’ Debora added hastily. ‘Cameron’s a complete romantic when it comes to women.’

  ‘Aren’t we all?’ commented Duncan wryly.

  ‘Yes, but at least you were faithful to Connie, Duncan. Cameron uses it to excuse the inexcusable.’

  ‘I’ve brought you the schedule. It’s all there – tour buses, extra musicians, hotels, staging, lighting, parking for the Airstream.’

  Stella heaved a sigh of relief at this. At least it sounded like she would get her garden back during the tour.

  ‘I’m hoping Cameron will do the odd grip and grin with the local officials to thank them for the late-night licences.’

  ‘How are ticket sales?’ As well as her warmth, Debora had an air of calm authority. Stella decided she really liked her.

  ‘Mostly sold out. Cameron’s audience is perfect. They’re so old they buy tickets three months in advance and don’t throw stuff at the band.’

  Debora laughed. ‘I’m glad our generation’s good for something. Sometimes the kids make us feel like criminals who’ve stolen their pensions and their future.’ Her rich, warm laugh made you think of hen nights and girls’ nights in. ‘Some of these oldie bands won’t even let the audience be shown in their videos. They look too ancient!’

  ‘How outrageous!’ Suze tutted, revelling in hearing all this rock ’n’ roll-abilia.

  ‘So what are you girls doing for lunch?’ Debora asked. ‘I’d like to take you out; my treat after all you’ve done for Cameron, who, no surprise to learn, is perfectly all right. I’ve arranged for a masseuse to come and give him a work-over later.’

  ‘I hope it’s not a Thai one. That’d give Mrs Husky next door something to think about,’ Suze giggled.

  ‘As a matter of fact, we’re involved in a community revival scheme,’ Stella pointed out, ‘and we were just going down to have another look. Why don’t you come with us?’

  ‘I’d be delighted. I got involved in my local one back in California.’

  ‘I think that might be a bit different from one in Camley.’

  As they walked the ten minutes to the high street, Debora laced her arms through theirs. She looked at Stella closely. ‘You know, Stella, you look pretty damn good for an old gal of sixty.’

  ‘Sixty-four,’ Suze supplied. ‘Very nearly sixty-five.’

  ‘Thank you, Susannah.’

  ‘And she hasn’t even had surgery. Or Botox!’

  ‘What’s your secret?’

  ‘Overindulgence.’

  ‘So tell us about Cameron,’ Suze insisted. ‘How come he left you for this Hallelujah?’ Debora was the kind of person you knew wouldn’t mind such personal questioning.

  ‘Have you ever seen Halle Brown?’

  They shook their heads.

  ‘Think Naomi Campbell, Rihanna with just a dash of Madam Butterfly, and you’ve got it. Plus she was his backing singer. Rock singers always fall for their backing singer – if not, they fall for the dancers. They say “She really understands me!” And it’s true, these gir
ls really do understand them – this weird life, never mixing with normal people, always on the road. I was fine with it, to be honest. I suppose I knew it was inevitable. I had five kids. Nick was only ten, Sarah, eight, Caroline, five, Karl, three . . . that was my rebellious period—’

  ‘They’re not very rock-star names,’ interrupted Suze.

  ‘You’d prefer Zowie Bowie or Moon Unit Zappa, would you? Mind you, I did have a Zuleika. That was a moment of madness. We call her Zu. Anyway, it was Halle who didn’t want to put up with me.’

  ‘And what about the new wife, the twenty-one-year-old. Isn’t she younger than his daughters?’

  ‘A lot younger. It wasn’t her fault. It was her mother, Fabia. Now there was the ultimate rock chick. But she’s getting old now, and insecure. When your only skills are flattery and blowjobs life can get a touch worrying. And Fabia won’t see fifty again. I think she sees Roxy as her pension.’

  ‘And what does Roxy think?’

  ‘Roxy’s a great girl. I think she actually liked Cameron. He’s still got it when he makes an effort to be charming and he definitely charmed Roxy. She had a terrible childhood, carted from man to man with Fabia. I think he was a minor aberration. Unfortunately for Fabia, I think Roxy’s the one who’s over him. Anyway, you’ll meet her soon. Once the tour starts Fabia won’t be far behind.’

  By now they’d reached Camley High Street with its traffic fumes, betting shops and lorries seeking short cuts. It seemed a world away from sun-kissed California, but for some reason Debora instantly took to it. ‘I love it! It reminds me of home!’

  Stella and Suze stared.

  ‘You know, you could get quite an alternative vibe going here. How about this pub starting to do breakfast or brunch? A lot of bars have started to do that in LA.’ She looked at the daunting exterior of the King’s Arms. ‘Come on, girls, if you don’t try . . .’

  Suze and Stella could only watch in admiration as Debora, full of American can-do confidence, clapped her hands so that the drinkers round the bar jumped as if they’d been shot. ‘Good morning, gentlemen. Can I speak with the landlord?’

  Debora then swept him away to return twenty minutes later, the reluctant publican in tow. ‘This is Les. He’ll give it a go as long as I come and show him how to get started.’