Georgia (41 page)

‘You’ve got gigs in the Midlands for the next week. Put all this out of your minds and get on with playing.’

Max had seemed preoccupied since the funeral. Georgia couldn’t help wondering if he’d found another band who excited him more than Samson. She’d spotted brochures for new vans on his desk and receipts for band suits which she was sure weren’t for them. Also there were three new girls in the office who barely acknowledged her. Was she being paranoid? Or was Max about to pull another stroke?

The next week or two was as if they’d gone back in time. If it hadn’t been for the pressure of wondering what was happening in Decca’s offices, and Ian and Alan’s absence, they could have been back to the carefree days before Max put them on the cinema tours. Their re-appearance at dancehalls was enthusiastically received, old fans coming forward to show their pleasure at seeing them again.

But Georgia hadn’t reckoned with all the old memories. She could handle it by day, wandering around town with John or Rod, even performing in places she associated with Ian. But by night when she crept into a cold, often damp bed, Ian’s face came back to her.

She missed his jokes and chatter, all the little things he helped her with. The other boys were clumsy at zipping up dresses and putting make-up on her when there was no mirror handy. She missed him singing with her, complimenting her, spurring each other on. But it was making love that dominated her thoughts at night. She would torment herself remembering the way he stroked her. The thought of his kisses made her hot and damp. She longed for the blissful glow that followed making love, and waking early to find him aroused and holding her.

When she lost Peter there had always been the hope he would return. Even when Helen died she had been able to comfort herself with the thought that she had left pain and poverty behind. But there was no sense to Ian’s death. It wasn’t right that he missed by just a few weeks the one thing he had aimed at all his life. And neither was it fair that everyone she loved was snatched from her so cruelly.

‘You can always count on me,’ Rod said one evening as they made their way up the staircase to their rooms. ‘My body’s free anytime.’

Georgia stopped and turned to look at him. Two years ago she would have found his arrogance insulting. But now she saw it as a gesture of comfort and perception.

The boarding house was just like all the countless others they stayed in. Shabby, flowered wallpaper, worn at shoulder height with the hundreds of people that had gone up and down rubbing against it. Candlewick bedspreads, nylon sheets and plastic flowers.

She saw Rod then as other women saw him. His strange dark slanty eyes, high cheek-bones and thin, almost cruel lips. Raw sexuality seeped out of him, his height, coupled with wide shoulders, narrow hips and his shiny blue black straight hair gave the picture of a primitive savage.

‘Things aren’t that bad,’ she grinned.

‘No?’ his eyes laughed at her.

‘I miss him so much it hurts,’ she said softly. ‘But it isn’t just sex I miss.’

‘I didn’t think it was,’ he said, his hand reaching out and stroking her cheek. ‘But sometimes another body can be very comforting.’

With one finger he traced round her lips. She felt goosebumps come up all over her and she couldn’t move away.

‘I could make you forget at least for tonight,’ he whispered. ‘It doesn’t have to be forever.’

She felt a tug in her stomach, a tingle of desire.

‘I’m not brave enough to chance it,’ she took a step back from him and hesitated, looking down at him two steps beneath her. His eyes were half closed, narrow lips apart showing white teeth. For a moment she almost went back to him.

‘One day,’ he smiled. ‘Just for laughs!’

That night she thought of Rod’s hands on her breasts. His tanned chest above her, skilful fingers playing with her and it was all she could do not to cry out.

As she let herself into her flat on their return to London, she found a note from Max summoning her to his office the next morning.

There was little hope of falling asleep after the note. Could this be the stroke she suspected? Or could it be that her dreams were finally about to be realized?

‘Go on in,’ Deirdre on reception smiled a welcome as Georgia leapt up the stairs on the stroke of ten. ‘He’s waiting for you.’

This in itself was a good sign. Max frequently kept her waiting for hours.

Max looked relaxed as she walked in the door. A pale lemon shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up revealing thick, brown arms. His chair was tilted back and he puffed on a cigar as if day-dreaming.

‘Hallo darling,’ he stubbed out the cigar, leaping to his feet, reaching her in two giant strides and pecking her cheek. ‘Sorry I couldn’t give you more warning. I’ve been rushed off my feet.’

‘How are things going?’ she asked, taking a seat by his desk, noticing many changes in the room.

Two years earlier Max had perhaps ten or so bands on his books. Now it looked as if he had expanded overnight. A new filing cabinet stood with drawers open. Stacks of contracts lay on his desk, glossy photographs of groups unknown to her scattered everywhere.

‘I’ve got some excellent news for you,’ he returned to his desk, picking up a gold fountain pen from his blotter, shaking it, then signing a letter in front of him with a flourish.

‘They want it?’ Georgia felt a rush of adrenalin to her head.

‘Yup. They are anxious to get the disc cut and released for the first week in September.’

‘I can’t wait to tell the boys,’ Georgia felt a bubble of glee rise up inside her.

‘The contract is just for you.’

She stared at him, mouth agape. He had that cold look in his eyes she knew so well. Had he actually managed to outmanoeuvre her despite everything?

‘Don’t look like that,’ he snapped at her. ‘Their names will be on the recording as backing and co-writers, they’ll get their royalties.’

‘You’ve got something up your sleeve.’ She stood up, leaning towards him over the desk, dark eyes blazing. ‘Are you trying to tell me this is the end of the line for us together?’

‘Georgia, darling,’ he shrugged his shoulders, spreading his hands wide. ‘I’m only thinking of you. The Palladium, the Albert Hall, that’s where you’re heading. You’ll need an orchestra, not a bunch of dance hall musicians.’

‘But before we get there we’ll still be playing in clubs and stuff,’ she said desperately. ‘I need them Max!’

‘Of course you do, for now.’ He moved round the desk and caught hold of her arms. ‘As from tomorrow when you sign with Decca you pay them just as you would a session musician.’

‘Whaaat!’ Georgia stared at Max in horror. ‘You mean I’ve got to tell them I’m their boss now?’

‘Just a re-arrangement of finances. I’ll still be the one organizing everything. Financially this is far better for you. When you give interviews, television game shows etc, it means that money is all yours, and rightly so, you’ll be the one working your butt off.’

‘But –’

Max interrupted her. ‘Look here Georgia, I’m getting a little tired of this game. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you the boys might want a change of direction? I’ll get them a new singer. If they deserve it they’ll get their own recording contract. Stop bloody well harping on about them.’

‘What time is it tomorrow?’ she asked weakly. ‘We’ve got to leave for the gig at twelve.’

‘Ten thirty. You can catch the train afterwards,’ he grinned as if he was giving her a treat. ‘The boys left this morning to pick up some new speakers. Soon you won’t be travelling with them anyway. It will be limousines for you. Gold stars on the door of the changing room. Now clear off and buy yourself a smart outfit for tomorrow.’

He had sent them away from town on purpose to avoid any last minute rebellion, now he was opening his wallet and pulling out fifty pounds.

‘Something outstanding,’ he said. ‘I don’t want them to think I kept you short.’

Georgia knew how Judas felt as he pocketed his thirty pieces of silver.

Decca’s offices were only a stone’s throw from her room in Berwick Street.

For the last two years Georgia had looked through the big glass doors every time she passed by, dreaming of this very day.

The dream had come true, but why did she feel so empty?

Max had been brusque with her when they met earlier. More interested in getting into the boardroom than speaking to her.

She had been left to sit outside, he hadn’t even remarked on her outfit.

Was this how it would be from now on? Alone all the time, watching out for people ready to stab her in the back? Once she would have been thrilled to be given fifty pounds to spend on clothes. All the boys would have come with her to choose them. Yet the boys were off buying speakers while she was signing away her future without them.

Was the outfit she’d chosen right? A white knee length dress, with a diamond cutout showing her brown abdomen, and new white shoes. She could see herself mirrored in a chrome plant stand. Her hair in soft ringlets, a white ribbon nestling amongst the curls. Was an impression of innocence the right look? Ian would have insisted on something red and dramatic!

For a place that employed hundreds of people, it was eerily quiet. The faint tapping of a typewriter in the distance, the occasional ringing of telephones, and a buzz of conversation from the boardroom where Max had gone.

A thick green carpet curled over her shoes. The seats were brown leather, big and comfortable. Huge plants stood in tubs and a brass-topped coffee table held a selection of quality magazines. It was more like a posh dental surgery than a place that dealt with music.

‘Would you like to come in now Georgia?’ The blonde iceberg of a secretary was holding the door open, a false, rather cynical smile on her china doll face.

Beyond the secretary’s notebook, Georgia could see at least ten business men wreathed in cigarette smoke around a boardroom table. All at once she was more nervous than when she went on stage. Her palms were sticky and her stomach turned over.

‘This is Georgia,’ Max stood up and pulled out a chair for her, his smile a contrived attempt at a fatherly one.

She sat down, thrown by the lack of interest in the men’s faces.

‘Hallo Georgia.’ A short fat man with small dark eyes held out his plump hand. ‘I’m Jack Levy. Might I say on behalf of all of us, how much we have enjoyed hearing you sing. You’re a girl with an exciting future.’

Georgia knew he was the top man at Decca. She had expected someone larger, not a nearly bald man with a wrinkled sallow face, a nose so huge it looked like a beak and gold-rimmed spectacles. He looked more like a banker than a maker of stars.

She glanced around the table.

Alex Rhodes was there, avoiding her eyes. She had heard he had an administrative position now, perhaps that’s why he had abandoned the tweed jacket and corduroys. His sandy head was bent over some papers, as if trying to forget this was the girl he couldn’t lure away from her band all those months ago. Had he put Max up to the cinema tours? Had he hoped one day she’d come crawling to him?

Maybe she wasn’t exactly crawling, but it didn’t feel like triumph either.

Max’s lawyer John Cohen she knew slightly. But here he blended in with all the others. They were all the same. Dark men, all of them greying at the temples. Not one of them less than forty, papers spread out in front of them. All with the same dark suits, gold watches, rings and cufflinks glinting, as if showing their allegiance to the same club. Not one look of interest or admiration. Tense faces as they approached yet another business deal.

‘We are offering you a three year contract,’ Jack Levy went on. ‘Under this contract we have the right to choose and oppose any songs which are offered to you. Though of course your opinion will be sought in this matter.

‘You may not work for any other record company during your contract with us. Also, work that is outside our field, a film for instance, would be vetted carefully before we agreed to it.’

He looked at her carefully over the top of his glasses, a shaft of sunlight played on his balding head and his nose seemed to grow larger.

‘Do you understand?’

Georgia nodded. These men were planning to take over her life. Once she’d signed with them she was just another pawn to be pushed anyway that suited them.

‘I want you to read through the contract,’ he said more gently. ‘It may seem difficult in parts, legal jargon does sound odd to someone who isn’t used to it. But if there’s anything you don’t understand, please ask.’

He handed her a document.

Georgia had no idea what she was supposed to look out for. It seemed fairly straightforward, mainly revolving around her inability to do anything without their permission.

Then her eyes caught an interesting section about immorality.

‘What does this mean?’ she asked, pointing to the section.

‘Well, my dear,’ he smiled condescendingly, his eyes so small behind his thick glasses they looked like currants. ‘We understand that young people sometimes get led astray when they find themselves in your position. However, an established company like ourselves do not like scandal.

‘Should one of our clients get involved in something which could have a damaging effect on ourselves, we have the right to cancel their contract.’

‘What sort of scandal?’ All the men were looking at her now, perhaps wondering if she had anything to hide.

He shrugged. ‘Something criminal maybe. Drugs. Not turning up for performances continually. Loose behaviour.’ He gave her a half smile as if implying she would never do any of these things.

‘I see, and is there a clause in here which protects me if, say, you didn’t act in my best interests?’ She wasn’t going to let them think she was a pushover.

‘Why should that be necessary?’ Jack Levy looked shocked.

Georgia could see he was another Max, he had the same expression on his face Max wore when confronted with his deviousness.

He looked round the room and laughed. ‘Do you think all these people would be gathered here today if they didn’t intend to look out for you?’

Georgia had a feeling they were rather more interested in the money aspect than her soul, but she thought it prudent to keep that to herself.