Dream On (26 page)

"And you'll be seeing Will, won't you?"

She pulled away from him. "Yes, obviously, as he's going
to be on the same cruise ship as I am!  Dave, that isn't what this is about. It's about what I'm doing with my life."

"Yeah."

Dave knew, though, somehow, that Will Corrigan was
going to be his successor. Maybe even Ariel didn't realise it yet, but he
did. And he was pretty sure Will fucking smart-arse Corrigan did, too.

Janice Brown felt as though she'd been plucked from
her normal, not particularly interesting life, and been granted three wishes.

She was deliriously happy, happier even than she'd
been back with Dave, back in the early years, because this time she didn't have
the constant niggling worries in the back of her mind. Even when she and Dave
had been newly in love, there had always been that little flutter of panic in
her stomach; panic that she wouldn't be able to hold him forever, that one day
he would not love her as much as he did right then. That one day he'd find
another Alison Swan. She laughed about that, now; she hadn't expected it to be
the
Alison Swan. 

Even when Harley was born and Dave appeared to have
rejected his previously rock 'n' roll lifestyle without complaint, that
fluttery panicky thing was still forever present; would he tire of cosy
domesticity in time? And once the band stuff had started up - during the
Critical Mass days, and now with Thor - those flutters got worse; it was
horrible never knowing the exact whereabouts of the person you loved, never
being sure exactly what it was they were doing, thinking, wanting.

Some people could live like that, and just let the
other person get on with it - her friend Carolyn, for instance, was now
involved with some young chap who only seemed to call on her when he was broke
or needed somewhere to sleep, and Carolyn seemed quite okay with this - but
that lifestyle wasn't for Janice. She needed to know that her world was
stable, secure, not built on foundations of idealism and forlorn hope.    

Maybe Max Stark wouldn't have been right for her
when she was younger, but he was now. She knew she was the centre of his life,
and she loved being so. Everything he did, all the plans he made, took her
into consideration - no, better than that, they made her a priority. He was
fun, too, great company, sociable, always thinking of new things for the three
of them to do. He'd taken Harley to more places in a just a few weeks than
Dave had in a year.

Max suggested taking her mother and Graham out for
dinner, and he got on so well with both of them; this made her laugh, too. He
was nearer their age than hers! More importantly than anything, it was he who
suggested they go to see Evelyn together, at least once a week.

"That's not the same one," Evelyn had said, the first time
Janice introduced Max to her.

"No, he's a different one," said Janice, and smiled
at Max.

"Is he the one with the little boy?" Evelyn asked.

"No, Gran, that was Dave.  Harley's with him, at
the moment. He's spending the day with him. Dave will still come and
see you, but we're not together anymore. I'm with Max, now."

"Oh," said Evelyn, disinterestedly. She looked out
of the window. "Is he going to take me home?"

"You've got a nice home here, Mrs Brown," Max said
to her. "There's a lovely view out of the window, isn't there?"

"I've got to go home," Evelyn said, not to anyone
in particular. "They'll be wondering where I am."

"It's all right, Gran," Janice said. "We know where you
are. Me and mum. Your Linda."

"Oh yes, Linda. She never comes to see me anymore."

Janice raised her eyebrows at Max. "Gran, she came to see
you this morning."

"Did she?"

"Yes. And she'll come again tomorrow; she comes to see you
every day, doesn't she?"

Evelyn stuck out her bottom lip. "If you say so." Then she looked up at Max and Janice. "Are you married?"

Janice felt herself go pink "We're not, no. We
haven't been together very long. I've worked for Max for ages - you know,
I've told you about the café where I work. Max owns it. But we've
only been, well, a couple, for a little while."

"Oh." She looked down at her hands. "I'm married. My husband never comes to see me."

For a moment, she looked so sad, not belligerent
like she usually did. Janice couldn't help it. She felt a tear roll down her
cheek. She leant forward and took her grandmother's hands in hers. "Granny,
Grandpa died twenty years ago."

"Oh yes. Yes, of course he did." She frowned. "I don't
know why I get so confused."

Janice put her arms around her frail shoulders. "I know."

"What was he like, your husband?" Max asked.

Evelyn wrinkled up her nose. "Bit of a moany old git,
sometimes."

Janice laughed. "Gran, he was lovely! He did moan a
lot, though, I'll give you that! But I loved him when I was a little girl. Come on, shall we get the photos out, and show Max?"

When they got up to leave, half an hour later,
Evelyn caught hold of Max's sleeve. "You ought to get married, you know. It's better when people are married."

Max bent over and kissed her on the cheek. "Yes, you're
right, it is."

They smiled at each other, and Janice, watching
them, saw once again that flicker in her grandmother's eyes; the real her that was
still there, somewhere, and not yet lost forever to the dementia.

"You know," said Max, as they walked out to the car
park, hand in hand, "she was right about it being better when people are
married. What do you think?"

Dave couldn't help hoping that Ariel would change her mind,
though every day it seemed less likely.

One day, she said to him, out of the blue, "do you think
you'll end up back with Janice, when I've gone?"

Dave laughed. "I don't think so! She's seeing that
Max, now, isn't she?"

Ariel gave a shrug. "I dunno. You've got a child
together. That might take precedence over some new relationship."

He felt annoyed, as if she was trying to alleviate
her guilt by suggesting an alternative set-up for him. "Would you mind?"

Another shrug.  "I'm hardly in a position to do so, am I?"

Raw Talent aired, at last.

So much had happened since the auditions that it
seemed a long time ago, now, Dave thought, though it was only a matter of
weeks.

Shane's Uncle Vic had decided to make something of
a night of it, and show the first one on the big screen in The Bandstand, which
was usually reserved for the football - but Ariel and the members of Thor agreed
that they wanted to watch it in a more private setting. They gathered together
at Ariel's father's house, his being the only one that boasted Sky TV.

Shane turned up with Kerry, much to everyone's
surprise.

"What's he brought her along for?" Ritchie said, when the
couple were out in the kitchen making a cup of coffee.

"Perhaps because she's his girlfriend?" Boz said. "It's
not a completely unheard of thing to do, man!"

"It's weird, though; she's not like his normal
choice of girlfriend is she?" said Dave. "It's all a bit weird, full stop."

Ariel craned her neck to look at them, through the
kitchen door.  "She's pregnant," she said.

"What?" said Dave.
"How do you know that?"

"Just fat, if you ask me," said Ritchie.

"She is," said Ariel. "Women notice these things. Her
tits are bigger than they were when I first saw her, and it's the way her
stomach sticks out - she hasn't got fatter all over."

Boz laughed. "And she always drinks soft drinks, have you
noticed? Well, bugger me, who'd have thought our Shane would get caught,
eh?"

"Stupid bastard," said Ritchie.

"It explains everything," said Ariel. "Shane! Hurry
up, the programme's about to start!"

The first edition of the programme was two hours
long; the first half showing the auditions at which they'd all been present.
During Thor's performance of 'Stampede', Shane's uncle Vic rang him from the pub
so that they could hear everyone cheering them.

"We're canny, aren't we?" said Boz. "I hadn't realised how
good we are!"

The second performance, the one that got them
rejected, was not shown, though there was a camera shot of them all looking tired
and fed up, arms folded, in the holding room, then one of Shane chatting to the
Bon Jovi girl, all flirtatious smiles, which earned him a slap on the arm from Kerry.

"What was her name, again?" said Boz, winking at
Ariel.

"Cecilia, wasn't it?" said Ariel.

"Cecilia, you're breaking my heart,"
sang Dave.

Kerry glared at him. "You told me her name was Mandy!"

"That's so you won't find her number when you look through
his phone when he's asleep," said Ritchie.

Kerry glared at Ritchie, and stormed out of the
room.

"Thanks a fucking bunch, all of you," said Shane,
and dashed off after her.

"I feel bad, now," said Dave. "I only meant to rag him; I
wasn't thinking."

"Aye, he's got his hands full with that one," said
Boz.

"It's the child I feel sorry for," said Ariel. "What was
she thinking of, getting pregnant by a bloke like Shane?"

"He's made his bed, serves him right," said
Ritchie. "Hey - look! Ariel, it's you!"

Ariel watched herself; it felt strange. She liked
what she saw, though. Maybe she should have looked at the camera more.  She
could see why she hadn't been chosen, now.

This was reiterated to all of them once Melodie
flashed onto their screens.  Her voice came over much better than any of them
had expected, but, most of all, she sang the song to Glenn Hunter as if he was
the only man in the world, as if she really, truly was
crazy for him.

"Yeah, but she still didn't write the song
herself," said Ritchie, after they'd all finished saying how good she was. "And
she still can't play any instruments or read music."

"She doesn't need to," said Boz, looking at the
screen somewhat wistfully, as the camera followed her walking down the
corridor.

"And you remember what they said about your voice
being your instrument," said Ariel.

"Oh, that's the other one you fancy, isn't it?"
said Kerry, walking back into the room, with reddened eyes. She was followed
by Shane, who looked drained and tired.

"Put a sock in it, love," said Shane, wearily. He
put his arm around her. "I'm with you now, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dave whispered to Ariel.

Next up was the first live show, and they watched
Melodie perform to the studio audience for the first time. The reaction was
extremely enthusiastic, as was that of the judges.

"Looks like we all got it wrong," said Ariel, after
the show ended. "Perhaps if you put your desire for fame above all else, you're
more likely to make it, these days."

"Aye, it shouldn't be like that, but maybe it is,
to some extent," said Boz. "It's one of the reasons I see myself as a jobbing
drummer, not a rock star."

"But you still believe in Thor?" asked Dave. He
felt
the fear
in his gut, for just a moment. Did not making it through
to some tin pot satellite TV talent competition mean they were all giving up?

"Course I do, man," said Boz, patting him on the
back. "It's a canny band you've got, and it's a good laugh. But I'm not
sure we're ever going to get further than we are now."

"We just need some better gigs," said Dave, hearing and
hating the desperation in his voice.

"Yeah, we do," said Ritchie. "Weren't we going to try and
get some in London, before we started on all this Raw Talent shite?"

"Mm," Boz said, and frowned. "I'll look into things, over
the next week or so."

He sounded distracted, like Ariel had.  Dave had a feeling
that Boz had something else up his sleeve that he wasn't telling them about,
too.

Ariel, Janice, Shane - they'd all presented him
with surprises, lately, and not very nice ones, at that.

He hoped Boz wasn't about to follow suit.

She was really going.

Their last week together was a huge emotional struggle
for Dave, though he knew it was less so for her; she was busy, doing her final
shifts in the pub, catching up with friends for the last time, making
arrangements, going out to dinner with her father.

On the day before she left they lounged in the bath
together at Ritchie's; she was sitting between his legs with her back against
his chest, his arms around her waist, and he thought for an odd moment about a
documentary he'd seen, about a serial killer who'd killed his victims and kept
their corpses in his apartment so he wouldn't be alone.
I could drown her
in five seconds, easily,
he thought.
Fuck! I'm going nuts. Why am I
thinking about that sort of creepy weird shit?

He picked up his sponge and squeezed the hot water
onto her, and she went "Mmm!" and wriggled closer to him. He held her tighter
to him, his cheek pressed against the top of her wet head, and tried not to
cry.

"Shall I come down to see you? In London, I mean. Before you actually go."

"That'd be nice," she said, "but you're at work all week,
and I'll be working evenings and weekends up until I go. I don't think
it's very practical. We wouldn't actually get to see each other."

"No." He felt a rush of anger. "Do you actually
care? This is déjà fucking vu, isn't it, really? You saying you love me and
me hanging on, but you going off to London without me just the same." He
wouldn't mind if she was at work. He'd be happy to wait for her, in this
Emily's flat, until she came home, just to spend a few hours with her.

She pulled away from him and sat up, then stood up and got
out of the bath, in one graceful move.
Shit, what have I done now?
he
thought. He hadn't wanted to argue, not during their few last times together.