Step Back in Time (20 page)

I’m found a seat, thrust a glass of champagne, and I sit down, glad that no one else seems bothered by my presence. They all just continue with their conversations and their drinking. Rocky and Sadie become the perfect hosts again, mingling with everyone.

‘How do you know Rocky?’ Stu asks, leaning across the table towards me. ‘I thought it was Ringo you were in with. Quite the dark horse, aren’t you?’

‘No, not at all. I don’t know him that well really. Unless you call saving his life, knowing him, I guess?’

Stu looks confused. ‘Is that what he meant about you being his guardian angel just now? Care to explain further?’ Stu slides his chair around the table so it’s closer to mine, but no one seems to care, and I begin to tell him all about the peanut incident.

‘Impressive,’ he says when I’ve finished. ‘How’d you know to do that?’

‘Saw it happen at a Christmas party. So,’ I ask, keen to move the subject away from my future knowledge. ‘How do
you
know Rocky?’

‘He’s involved with the band I roadie for.’

‘Is he, how?’

‘He finances them, basically, shoves money into them when they need a bit extra for tours and the like.’

‘Is he a big music fan then?’ I look at Rocky standing with his arm around another man, drinking whisky and laughing. Rocky looks many things but a fan of pop music isn’t one of them.

Stu laughs. ‘Not really. It’s Sadie – her brother is one of the band members, so Rocky does it for her.’

Now it makes sense.

‘And Sadie is my cousin, so that’s how I got the gig working with them originally. Been doing it for years, now. Got to know them all quite well, and it’s not a bad job, gets me out and about, seeing things I wouldn’t if I were stuck in an office all day. I’ve pretty much travelled the world.’

‘There you are!’ Ellie comes tottering over to us on her bright yellow high heels. ‘I wondered where you’d got to. You left me all alone at the bar.’

‘I bet you weren’t alone long, though?’ Stu says to her, casting an admiring eye over her short black dress.

‘
Hello
, and who might you be?’ Ellie asks, putting her hand out.

‘Your lucky day,’ Stu says, standing up to take her hand.

I roll my eyes. ‘Stuart, meet Ellie, my friend and work colleague,’ I cast my hand in Ellie’s direction, ‘Ellie, meet Stuart. We met earlier today in George’s shop.’

‘You like music then, Stuart?’ Ellie asks.

‘Yeah, I’m embarrassed to say I have a sad addiction to obscure seventies punk music, which George feeds nicely for me.’

‘That’s not so bad,’ Ellie says, smiling at him. ‘Just between the two of us I like a bit of the Bay City Rollers when I’m all alone of an evening. Now
that’s
embarrassing!’

‘Yes, it is,’ Stu says seriously, and then he grins. ‘Are you here all alone tonight?’

‘Yes,’ Ellie says without hesitation, her eyes not wavering from Stu’s.

I clear my throat.

‘Well, I came with Jo-Jo but she doesn’t really count.’

‘Thanks a bunch!’

‘You know what I mean, Jo!’ She winks at me.
Needs must!
she mouths so Stu can’t see.

I look at the pair of them, gazing at each other above me while I perch on the seat below.

‘Why don’t you two just go and have some fun together?’ I suggest. ‘I’ll be fine here with Rocky and his pals.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ellie asks, barely looking at me.

‘Yes, just go,’ I say, waving my hand dismissively at them. ‘I’ll catch you later. By the way, I’ve got some info for us,’ I say as Ellie and Stu wander off still gazing at each other, but I don’t think Ellie even hears me.

I pick up my champagne from the table and take a long consolatory gulp.

So, it looks like I’m all on my own again.
 

But isn’t that how I’m supposed to prefer it?
 

As I sip my champagne I ponder how, even in the middle of a noisy club like this, you can feel so alone. How when sitting at a table of people, all chattering away and enjoying themselves, you can still manage to feel lonely.

But that’s just how I feel now that Stu has gone off with Ellie and I don’t really know anyone. It’s odd, I should have felt like this before in all the unfamiliar situations I’ve found myself in, but I haven’t; I’ve always felt fine before, able to cope, so why has it suddenly hit me now in the middle of all this noise and merriment, how utterly alone I actually feel in all this?

‘What are you still doing here?’ someone hisses in my ear.

I turn around to find Harry bending over my shoulder.

‘If Ringo catches you still in his club you’ll be for more than the high jump.’

‘I’m having a drink with Rocky – he invited me to stay as his guest,’ I reply haughtily, turning away from him and facing forward again.

‘Did he now?’ Harry says, sounding surprised. ‘And how might you know Rocky?’

Not this one again.

‘It’s complicated,’ I reply, to make it easier.

‘I bet it is if Rocky is anything to do with it. I wish you luck if you’re involved in any of his shady dealings.’

I swivel around in my chair. ‘You’re a fine one to talk!’

‘What do you mean?’ Harry asks. His face is right next to mine as I stare indignantly into his deep blue eyes.

Damn! I didn’t mean to say anything until I spoke to Ellie first. But now I have I’m not backing down.

‘I mean about you and Ringo.’

‘What about me and Ringo?’ Harry asks, looking right back into my eyes without blinking. ‘What do you know? Or should I say what do you
think
you know!’

‘I know enough.’

‘Enlighten me?’ Harry’s eyes flicker with danger now.

‘Here? You want me to say it here in front of everyone?’

‘Let’s go elsewhere then,’ Harry suggests quietly.

‘I’m not going somewhere with you! I hardly know you and after earlier in the corridor, why would I?’

It was true; I didn’t really know this version of Harry. I might think I did because of all the other times I’d met him, but it might be different this time: he really could be dangerous.

Harry sighs. ‘Are you suggesting that I might harm you in some way?’

I look at Harry in his smart black suit and blue shirt as he squats down next to my chair now. No, I have to admit he doesn’t look very dangerous. But an expensive designer suit doesn’t mean anything. Then I glance into his eyes again. But a pair of kind eyes does mean something. And Harry has some of the kindest, loveliest eyes I’ve ever seen.

‘No,’ I say quietly. ‘But you’re a virtual stranger to me. I’m not going just anywhere with a stranger.’

Harry’s face softens. ‘There’s a bar down the road from here. Well, it’s more of a pub really, but you have to call them bars these days. We’ll go there and you can explain to me just why you think I might be anything like Ringo, Rocky and anyone else with the initial R you can think of.’

The Angel’s Wings is indeed more of a traditional pub than a trendy eighties bar, and while I find us a seat, Harry gets us both a drink. I’ve asked for an orange juice – I think I’ve had enough alcohol for one night!

While I settle at a small wooden table in the corner of the pub and wait for Harry to bring our drinks over, I glance around me. The pub seems very quiet. There are a few people drinking at the bar and a couple of young guys playing on a Pac-Man game next to a fruit machine, and as I check the time on my watch I realise it’s nearly time for last orders.

‘One orange juice,’ Harry says, putting a glass down on the table in front of me. ‘I’m surprised you ordered that.’

‘Why?’ I ask before taking a sip.

‘The way you were knocking back the shots earlier, I didn’t think you’d entertain anything non-alcoholic this evening.’

‘That was just for show.’

‘Was it now?’ Harry says, looking amused. ‘To show who what?’

‘To show Ellie I wasn’t dull and boring.’

Harry laughs now. ‘Oh, really? Well, I think you’ve managed that tonight: first you get thrown out of the club by Ringo, then you sneak back in again via Rocky and gatecrash his wife’s birthday party.’

‘His fiancée actually, and the truth is Rocky rescued me before I got to the exit and invited me along to the party. So, technically, I didn’t do any of those things.’

‘Nit-picking details.’ Harry takes a long slow sip from his pint of beer. ‘Ah… A hundred times better than that slop they serve at Karma.’

‘Why do you go there then?’

‘Necessity. Ringo is my business partner, so I need to on occasion. Which brings me around to your earlier allegations. Would you like to enlighten me?’

I look across the table at Harry. Should I tell him?

‘I heard you,’ I blurt out before my brain has a chance to consult with my mouth on the best course of action. ‘I heard you talking to Ringo when I was in the corridor before.’

‘I see,’ Harry says, nodding calmly. ‘And what
exactly
did you hear?’

‘I heard you discussing the illegal drugs you provide him with for the club.’

Harry’s face doesn’t change as he appears to think over what I’ve just said. He looks over the table at me with a completely neutral expression. ‘And what else did you hear – anything?’

‘Isn’t that enough?’

Harry nods again and contemplates his beer for a moment. ‘Yes, I would think running an illegal drugs operation is a pretty big allegation to make against anyone.’ He looks up at me now, his expression sending shivers down my spine. Not because it’s menacing or fearsome, but because of the disappointment it contains, as if I’ve wounded him with my accusations. ‘And that’s exactly what you heard me say – word for word? I was providing Ringo with drugs for the club?’

I think about this.

‘Maybe not exactly word for word, no, but what else could you have been discussing? You’re not exactly denying it, are you?’ As I sit here defending my actions, I’m starting to wish I’d listened to my original gut instinct, and not so much to Ellie. This wasn’t going as I planned. But that’s exactly the problem; I didn’t
plan
anything. I allowed myself to get carried away with the moment, allowed myself to rely on someone else’s judgement. And now it feels as if it’s all going horribly wrong, spiralling out of my control. And I hate that.

Harry takes another sip of his beer, but his eyes don’t leave mine. ‘These are pretty serious allegations, Jo-Jo,’ he says, resting his glass back down on the table.

I swallow hard. But I hold his intense gaze.

‘They are, Harry.’

‘Not the type that one friend makes against another.’ Harry pushes his beer away from him across the table and stands up. ‘Goodbye, Jo-Jo,’ he says, to my surprise. The disappointment in his blue eyes as he looks down at me feels like a dagger stabbing me in the heart. ‘I’d say it’s been nice knowing you, but I’m not so sure.’ Then he turns and heads for the door.

I’m stunned for a moment; I didn’t expect that reaction from him at all. ‘Wait!’ I shout, pushing my chair back across the tiled floor. ‘Harry, wait up!’

I chase after him through the pub doors and out on to the pavement.

‘I’m sorry if I got it wrong,’ I call, as I see him marching away down the dimly lit street. ‘Won’t you at least explain?’

Harry stops walking. He stands under the yellow glow of a street lamp but doesn’t turn around. I wait, my heart beating fast in my chest to see what he does next.

Passers by on the London street barely give me a glance as they hurry along home. It’s started to rain now, and I can feel large drips of water on my head as I stand there waiting for Harry to do something. Anything.

Finally he turns around and walks back towards me.

‘It’s raining,’ he announces. ‘I think you’d better come with me.’

I sit in the back seat of the car Harry summoned on his huge brick of a mobile phone and wonder where we’re going.

I suppose most people would think I’m taking a bit of a risk getting into a chauffeur-driven car and driving off with someone I don’t know, but that’s the problem with Harry: whatever guise he’s in I always feel I know him, and that always makes me feel safe.

We pull up outside the gates of Beat Music and Harry winds down his window to speak to the security guard in the cubicle. The guy is so shocked to see Harry, he doesn’t know whether to put his cap on first or straighten his tie, so he ends up trying to do both at the same time while Harry speaks briefly to him, and then he nods hurriedly.

‘Why are we here?’ I ask Harry as he presses a button and the car window shoots back up again.

‘I want to show you something,’ Harry answers without further detail.

Since his car picked us up outside the pub, Harry has hardly spoken to me, except to politely enquire whether I’m warm enough, and have dried off sufficiently after the rain.

The car pulls up outside the main building, and the chauffeur hurries around to my side of the car to open the door.

I look over to Harry.

‘Go on,’ he says. ‘I’ll follow you.’

I climb out and Harry does the same.

‘I won’t be long, Henry,’ Harry says to the chauffeur. ‘If you’d just wait, please.’

‘Of course, Mr Rigby,’ Henry says, standing outside the car as we enter the building.

‘He won’t wait outside the car all the time, will he?’ I ask, looking back through the glass doors at Harry’s chauffeur. ‘He’ll get wet.’

Harry looks at me for a moment, then he smiles. ‘No, of course not. Don’t worry about Henry; he’ll be fine. He’s been chauffeuring for my family for years – he worked for my father before he worked for me.’

‘Really? Is this a family business, then?’ I ask, looking around the dimly lit foyer with new eyes.

‘Drug dealing?’ Harry asks.

I wince. But then I see a twinkle in his eye.

‘Whatever it is you
really
do here.’

‘No,’ Harry smiles, ‘Beat Music isn’t a family business – I built it myself from scratch. And if you come with me now I’ll show it to you.’

We take the lift down, as opposed to travelling up as we did when I was last in the building. When the doors open I follow Harry down the corridor silently. We pause at a large, extremely thick vault-like door and Harry inputs a few numbers on a keypad, careful to shield the code from my eyes. The door swings open and I find myself entering what looks like a storeroom.

As the vault door closes behind us I realise the room is lit only by security lighting, and I suddenly begin to wonder again if this has been a good idea, but Harry strides across the room, flicks a switch and the room is immediately flooded with light.

Looking around me I can see several long tables with columns of empty packing boxes stacked beside them, and dotted about on top of the tables are brown sticky tape machines, clipboards and pens. The walls of the room are lined with shelves filled with even more boxes – full ones, this time.

‘What is this place?’ I ask. Then, feeling stupid I add, ‘I mean, what’s in all the boxes?’

‘Music,’ Harry says proudly looking around him. ‘Records, mainly.’

‘Yes, I know you supply music,’ I say, wandering over to one of the boxes. ‘Everyone
knows
that’s your business.’

Harry shakes his head. ‘No, that’s the modern stuff I distribute under the Beat Music name. This,’ he lifts the flap of an unsealed box ‘is vintage music, classics not in production any more. Look at this, for instance.’ He puts on a pair of white cotton gloves, then carefully pulls a record from the box. It’s wrapped in a white sleeve, and Harry handles it so very gently as he slips it from its protective case that I wonder if it’s going to be made of gold as it slides into his hand.

But no, it just looks like a normal vinyl record to me.

‘What’s so special about that?’ I ask, moving towards him.

Harry flinches and backs away a couple of steps as if I’m going to snatch his precious record and run away with it.

‘Steady boy,’ I laugh, ‘I’m not going to touch!’

‘This,’ Harry says seriously, ‘is an original copy of the Beatles’
Sergeant Pepper
album. It’s so rare we’re keeping the sleeve separately for security purposes.’

The Beatles again
…

‘And in that box over there,’ he says, gesturing towards the far wall, ‘is an original copy of “Blue Suede Shoes” by Elvis Presley.’

‘You’re like an underground musical eBay!’ I exclaim, grinning at him.

Harry doesn’t get my futuristic joke.

‘This is serious stuff, Jo-Jo. Collectors pay a lot of money for items like this. It’s a very particular clientele I provide for. They know what they want and they’re prepared to pay for it.’

‘Sure,’ I say, wishing now I could have time travelled with some records from the sixties and seventies instead of a copy of the
Beano
and some football boots – I’d have made a killing! ‘Wait, is
that
what you were discussing with Ringo when I overheard you? Do you provide records and stuff to him?’

Harry nods. ‘For his clients I do. Ringo has some very wealthy people visiting that club of his, and some of them are very into their music.’

‘So the thing you didn’t like being kept down in dingy cellars too long was your records?’

Harry nods. ‘It doesn’t do them any good to be kept in conditions like that. They’re old and precious and they’ll warp and bow if they get damp.’

Harry lovingly puts the Beatles album back in its box, and removes his gloves. Then he smiles at me. ‘See? The only thing I’m buying and selling is
music
.’

‘Then why didn’t you just say?’ I ask, incredulously. ‘You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, it’s all above board, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes, it’s all legit. It takes us a while to source the music sometimes, and we’re not keen to share our sources because of that – and the fact we do a lot of cash deals with people – but there’s nothing illegal going on here.’

‘So why the secrecy? Why do you keep quiet about it, make it seem like you’re hiding something? It’s only buying and selling old records. Ah!’ I say as it suddenly dawns on me. ‘I see why now. George.’

‘You’ve got it. I don’t want to rub it in his face, do I? I started out working with George, learnt everything I knew from him. Then I went out on my own and became much more successful at it than he’s ever been. I didn’t stop at a little shop on the King’s Road, I built this small empire.’ He gestures up at the floors above us.

‘But George wouldn’t care about that,’ I protest. ‘He’s not like that. He’d be really pleased for you. Anyway, he loves that shop, he probably never wanted to do anything else with his life other than sell records out of it.’

‘How do you know? Have you asked him?’

I think about this. ‘No, I haven’t, but I just know he is. And I also know he’d be so happy to learn that his love for music sparked a passion in you to produce all this.’

Harry shrugs. ‘Maybe.’

‘Not maybe at all, he would be. Why don’t you go and visit him in the shop? I know he’d love to see you again and talk properly.’

‘No,’ Harry says, shaking his head. ‘Too much has happened. Too many years have gone by.’

I open my mouth to protest but Harry stops me.

‘No, Jo-Jo, it’s not going to happen, so you might as well stop now. George and I fell out some years ago; he didn’t approve of the way I was running this company at the time, and I may have stepped on his toes in a business sense a few too many times. We can’t go back and change the past. It would be lovely if we could sometimes, but we can’t.’ He makes a move towards the big door again and beckons for me to follow him. ‘I’m sorry, Jo-Jo,’ he says, reaching for the light switch, ‘I know you’re only trying to help, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this again now, thank you.’

You might not be able to change the past, Harry, I think, glancing at him as we ride silently back up in the lift together.

But I can.