The Rock'n'Roll Romance Box Set (Pam Howes Rock'n'Roll Romance Series) (11 page)

***

‘This is it,’ Jane whispered to
John Grey. The juke box fell silent. The house lights dimmed. ‘I feel sick with
nerves, so God knows how Eddie must be feeling right now.’

‘He’ll be fine, Jane. He’s like Roy,
born to be a performer,’ John said. ‘Frank James
is here tonight, but he’s keeping a low profile. Roy
called him to let him know Ed’s back. He hasn’t told the group in case they
panic and do a poor show.’

‘Wow! Roy’s
been going on about a contract with Frank for ages. Since the time he turned
them down because Eddie left.’

‘Best agent in town. Fingers
crossed, eh!’ John smiled as Roy
appeared from behind the black velvet curtains and people on the dance floor
surged towards the stage.

Roy
cleared his throat, one, two-ed into the mike and grinned broadly at the ripple
of applause.

‘ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?’ he
asked.

‘YESSSSSS!’ The audience roared
back.

He cupped a hand to his ear. ‘I
didn’t hear you! I said, ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?’ A wild cheer rose and Roy
nodded. ‘That’s better. So you’re all awake then? Now, the moment you’ve all
been waiting for. I’d like to introduce you to our new band member. You’ll
remember him as our original drummer, but tonight we’re lucky to have him sing
again with
The Raiders
.
Ladies
and Gentlemen put your hands together for MR EDDIE MELLOR!’

The curtains swung back, the band
struck up with the opening chords of Sam Cooke’s,
Another Saturday Night
,
and Eddie leapt forward, grabbed a microphone and began to sing.

Girls at the front of the stage
stared up with adoring eyes. Jane watched her boyfriend singing in front of a
captive audience for the first time in over three years. Tears tumbled down her
cheeks. Jackie passed her a handful of tissues.

‘Thanks, Jackie. He loves it. He
should never have left.’

The song came to an end, the
applause subsided and Eddie leapt wildly around the stage. ‘Thank you,’ he
shouted. ‘THANK YOU. I’m thrilled to be back. The next three songs will be
Everly Brothers
duets with Roy.’
The pair launched into
All I Have to Do
Is Dream,
their voices harmonising perfectly. Eddie looked across, caught
Jane’s eye and smiled.

She felt a shiver down her spine
and smiled back. Their song.

The audience went wild as Eddie
and Roy followed with
Wake up Little Susie
and
Cathy’s
Clown
. The girls at the front reached out to shake their hands.

‘Thank you, thank you so much,’
Eddie called out. ‘What a great audience you are. Our next number is a song Roy
likes to think was written especially for him!’ He grinned as Roy
rolled his eyes, played the opening chords, and the group launched into
Great Balls of
Fire.

The audience jived and Jane
pulled Sammy to her feet. ‘Come on, I haven’t done this for ages.’

Sammy was laughing fit to burst.
‘Trust Ed to say that about Roy,’
she howled. ‘Many a true word's spoken in jest!’ The song ended and
Sammy whistled through her fingers. Tim
strolled to the front of the stage and took a bow. ‘It’s the quiet one’s turn
now,’ he announced, laughing as the audience cheered. ‘This is for all you
Chuck Berry fans.’ Tim’s rendition of
Sweet Little Sixteen
brought cheers and stamping.
Roy
did the Chuck Berry duck-walk up and down the stage while playing his guitar.

The deafening applause and
whistling died away. Roy wiped his
hand across his sweaty forehead and announced,
‘T
o give the rest of us a well earned break, I’ll hand you over
to our resident Love God
,
MR PHIL
JACKSON! Be careful, girls, light the blue touch paper if you must, but stand
well back.’

Phil stepped forward, to the
delight of the fans reaching out to him. 'One at a time, girls, please! Thanks
for the intro, Roy. I’m gonna
dedicate a little ditty tonight to two very special people. One of them’s our
own Eddie Mellor.’ Jane’s hand flew to her mouth. Phil continued, ‘The other is
a lovely lady who’s turned me down so many times.
Jane, darling this one’s for you and Ed.’ Phil began to sing Eddie Cochran’s
Three Steps to Heaven
. As he reached the
chorus Eddie joined him.

Jane leant towards Sammy, a tear
in her eye. ‘Fancy Phil being so romantic.’

‘Yeah, who’d have thought? Look
at Ed’s face, Jane. He can’t take his eyes off you. It's the best thing that’s
happened to him in a long time. This and getting back with you.’

Jane smiled through her tears. ‘I
can’t stop crying tonight, but they’re happy tears.’

‘You big softie,’ Sammy said,
handing her a tissue.

***

Roy
watched Eddie enjoying himself. He’d been right to encourage him to sing
tonight. Frank James had shown his face at the
beginning of the show and smiled in Roy’s
direction. He nodded discreetly towards Kris, slid his hand across his throat
then looked pointedly at Eddie. Roy
got the message. With Ed onboard drumming again, Roy
knew the group would stand a much better chance of that coveted contract with
Frank’s organisation. Not only could Ed sing well, he’d always had a reputation
for being the best drummer in the area.

***

The audience went wild, shouting
for more, Phil and Eddie grinned with delight and Eddie blew a kiss in Jane’s
direction.

Roy
slowed down the tempo next. Eddie excused himself and leapt from the stage, fighting
his way through the tightly packed crowd to claim his girl. He pulled her into
his arms and kissed her while Roy
warbled
Love Me Tender.

‘What did you think?’ he
whispered, nuzzling her ear.

‘You were wonderful, Ed. The
whole show, it was brilliant. When you sang with Phil I had the biggest lump in
my throat.’

‘Trust him to do that dedication.
No doubt it’ll get back to Angie, but I don’t give a toss. I suppose Phil
thinks we’re a real couple now.’

‘Well - if the earlier
performance in the van was anything to go by…’

He laughed and hugged her.
‘Quite! I’d better go back on stage for the last song,’ he said as Roy
took his applause and strutted up and down the stage. ‘Just look at him go; he
bloody loves it. He’s desperate for fame. Mind you, aren’t we all?’

‘You’ll be famous one day, Ed. I
feel it in my bones,’ she said.

He kissed her and ran back into
the crowds, a huge grin on his face.

***

Eddie picked up Jane Sunday
afternoon and they rode to the small but rapidly expanding town of Westlow.
He pulled up in front of the new shopping development.

‘They’re very tall.’ Jane
clambered off the bike and gazed at the smart façade of the three-story,
red-brick buildings. A patrolling security watchman caught her eye and smiled.

‘Afternoon. Anything I can do to
help you, Miss?’

‘Do you have any idea which one
will be the music shop?’

The man pushed his cap to the
back of his head. ‘Well now, music shop’s second from the left, with a ladies
dress shop right next door.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, gazing
skywards. ‘Why are the buildings so tall?’

‘Two floors for shops and top
level’s luxury flats. The access to them’s at the back with their own car park.
We’re having paving and landscaping at the front here and there’ll be fancy
cast-iron benches to sit on.’

They said goodbye to the
watchman.

‘Blimey, it’s a bit posher than

‘Bit of jealousy?’ Eddie teased
as she pulled a sulky face. ‘Get on the bike. Norman’s
Woods next stop. We might bump into Roy and Sammy.’

‘They’ll be at his house making
the most of their time alone,’ she said, with a knowing grin. ‘Sam told me his
mum and dad aren’t back until tonight.’

‘Great Balls of Fire, eh!’ he laughed
and revved up the engine. ‘Hang on tight.’

In a small clearing Eddie took
off his jacket and laid it on the floor. Jane sat down and patted the space
beside her, slipping off her own jacket. She placed it around both their
shoulders and snuggled close, shivering.

‘You’re a bit edgy today, Ed.
What’s bugging you?’

‘Don’t go mad with me.’ He lit a
cigarette and took a drag. ‘I thumped Mark on the chin yesterday. I shouldn’t
have, but he was calling you names. Roy
thumped him too. Made his nose bleed.’

‘Oh, you didn’t?’ she gasped.
‘Was he badly hurt?’

‘Not really, just his nose.’

‘Why on earth did Roy
thump him?’

‘I warned Mark to stay away from
you. A verbal warning, that’s all it was supposed to be. Then he starts
mouthing off, calling you and Sammy names. Roy
saw red and lamped him one.’

‘Sammy’s never done Mark any
harm,’ Jane said. ‘Well it serves him right then. Now tell me what else is on
your mind.’

‘It’s her, Angie. I took my stuff
to the flat earlier. I told you I’m moving back in for a week or two to sort
things out and see a bit more of Jonny. I tried calling her at work, but she
won’t discuss anything with me on the phone. She can’t ignore me if I’m under
the same roof. She was looking rough as a bear’s arse when I walked in. I asked
her where she went last night and she nearly bit my bloody head off. Said she’d
been to a club in Manchester with
Cathy and the girls from work. I called her bluff. Told her Cathy was at the
Roulette Club. She stared at me for ages, grabbed her bag and stormed off.’

‘Do you think she’s seeing
someone?’

‘Yeah, I do. A guy she works
with, but I’ve no proof. I want a divorce, Jane, as soon as possible.’

‘Have you mentioned divorce yet?’

‘I’ve tried, but like I say, she
won’t speak to me. It’s pointless staying married to her now I’m back with you.
I want to be able to see you without us having to sneak around.’

Jane looked at his unhappy face
and her heart went out to him. ‘It’ll be all right, Ed, you’ll see. But promise
me one thing when you move back into the flat.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Don’t sleep in the bed with
her.’

‘I’ll be on the sofa, as usual,’
he assured. ‘Won’t be able to stand being there for long, but I miss Jonny so
much. I wish I knew for certain whether or not she can stop me seeing him. I’ll
have to take Roy’s advice and talk
to a solicitor.’

He rolled onto his stomach and
flashed a wicked grin. ‘Fancy coming to my folks’ place tonight while they’re
playing whist at Auntie Minnie’s? I wanna make love to you again.’

She smiled and nodded. ‘Yep.
That’s more like my Ed.’

‘Good. I’ll get another flat soon
as I’m sorted. We need somewhere private to be together. Perhaps I could ask
about the new flats that bloke just mentioned. Be handy for work, living above
the shop.’

‘True. But they’ll be dead
expensive.’

He nodded. ‘We’ll see. Let’s walk
before we can run.’

***

CHAPTER NINE

Mark rubbed a hand over his
bristly chin, fidgeting to get comfortable on a plastic chair in the waiting
room. He was tired, hung over and his mouth felt like the bottom of a budgie
cage. He could murder a bloody fag and wished the fat nurse would hurry up with
the promised tea. He glared at a snotty nosed kid, peeping out from behind his
mother’s skirt. She had her nose stuck in a magazine, oblivious to the brat who
was now sticking his tongue out.

Mark glared and the kid glared
back. Mark clenched his fists and shut his eyes. His head was pounding and the
brat was squealing now. The noise was piercing his brain and he felt ready to
strangle the little bastard. He could still smell the perfume of the girl he’d
picked up last night. Cheap shit. Not like the stuff Jane wears. He couldn’t
even remember the girl’s name now. Vicky, Nicky, something like that. She’d
been a good shag though. He wished he’d got her phone number now.

Perhaps Tony’s bird would know
it. Anyway, that was the least of his worries. He glanced at his watch.
9:00 am
. He’d been here over an hour. What a
fucking joke. The milkman had found his mother at the bottom of the stairs.
Stupid old bat. That was a fucking joke, too. What the hell happens now? They
told him she’d broken her hip. Well
he
couldn’t look after her. She’d have to go in a home. He could kill Eddie
fucking Mellor.

The door swung open and the fat
nurse waddled towards him with a mug, followed by an equally fat, bearded
doctor who frowned at the noisy brat. Mark took the mug and had a good drink of
tea. The brat’s name was called and the mother grabbed his hand and led him
away.

‘Thank Christ for that,’ Mark
grunted.

The fat nurse smiled and left him
alone with the doctor.

'Is Mother okay?’ he asked as the
doctor looked at his notes.

‘She’s in surgery, Mr Fisher.
She’s broken her right wrist as well as her hip and right ankle. We’ll be
keeping her in hospital for some time.’

‘And then what?’

‘We’ll have to see how she goes
on. Stairs will be out of the question. She has arthritis. Her joints won’t
heal quickly.’

‘Okay.’ Mark nodded.

‘I suggest you go home and come
back this afternoon with some nightwear and toiletries. We’ll have another chat
then.’

‘Right,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll do
that.’

***

Mark wandered around his mother’s
bedroom. He took a suitcase from the wardrobe and threw in a couple of
nighties, her quilted housecoat and the pink pom-pom slippers he’d given her
last Christmas. Her floral toiletry bag contained talc, scented soap and a new
flannel; almost as if she was expecting to be going somewhere at short notice.

He packed her reading glasses and
the book that lay open on her bed. If he walked past the allotments on his way
to Tony’s place he could get a bunch of daffodils. Tony was going to run him
back to Pickford General when he was ready. He’d enjoyed a long soak, shaved,
washed his hair and donned clean jeans and a T-shirt.

On a stupid impulse, prior to
packing the case, he’d called Jane’s home. Her mother answered. She said Jane
was out, probably with Sammy and Pat. ‘Can I pass on a message?’

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘Mum
fell downstairs yesterday and she’s in hospital.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Jane’s
mum sympathised when he told her his mother was on the floor all night. ‘If
there’s anything I can do, get in touch. I’ll tell Jane to call you when she
gets home.’

He slammed the receiver down.
Jane was probably out with Mellor. When she got his message
she may work out that his mother’s accident happened shortly after Eddie and Roy’s
visit to his home. He was in no doubt that Eddie would have boasted of the
punch up. She may think it was Eddie’s fault that his mother was injured. She
may even be so angry with him that she would dump him and come back to where
she belonged.

‘And pigs might,' he grunted. Why
on earth would Jane give a toss about his mother? He made tea and toast,
carried them through to the lounge and sat with his feet up on the coffee
table, something he was normally forbidden from doing. He lit a cigarette and
blew a cloud of smoke above his head. He smiled. Smoking indoors; something
else he was forbidden from doing. If his mother were kept in hospital for ages
he would have some freedom. Throw a party or two. Find out who he shagged and get
her to stay over the odd night.

Studying the old fashioned floral
wallpaper and drab brown velvet curtains that had been around since his
childhood, he decided he’d make some changes. Trendy bright colours would look
good in here and modern pictures and plants. He’d buy a copy of Ideal Home, get
a few ideas. If his mother ended up in a nursing home he could live and work in
Chester during the week and spend
the weekend here. The more he rolled the idea around in his head, the more he
liked it.

What if she died? Was the house
paid for? She always said, when she was gone, the house would be his. But he’d
never seen any proof she owned it. He finished his toast and coffee, lit
another cigarette, revelling in the fact that she wasn’t there, nagging him to
go outside. He took his mug and plate back to the kitchen to wash but dumped
them in the sink instead.

In the spacious dining room he
opened the sideboard cupboard and took out two boxes that contained his
mother’s private papers. He picked up a sheaf and sifted through the insurance
policies and old bills dating back years. Did she ever chuck anything away?

He came across his old school
reports and paused for a moment. He’d been privately educated. How had she
managed to pay for that? He’d never thought to question it, but the money must
have come from somewhere.

He threw the bills and policies
back in the box, returned it to the cupboard and took out the smaller box, in
which he’d discovered his birth certificate. He remembered now the shock of
seeing it and how he’d kept removing it from the envelope, re-checking, just in
case there had been a mistake. But there was no getting away from the truth; he
was a bastard.

He’d been dying to confront his
mother every time she’d called Jane names, but never meant yesterday’s
confrontation to happen how it did. He felt sure that after all these years
she'd never tell him the truth about his father.

At the bottom of the box
concealed away in a chocolate box, with a traditional thatched cottage picture
lid, he found a bundle of letters addressed to his mother. Each bore an Isle
of Wight postmark. He felt his heart skip a beat. His place of
birth had been registered as the Isle of Wight. There
were two dozen letters in all and they dated from 1942, which, he reckoned,
would tie in with his conception. He opened the first letter and looked at the
signature. Someone called Amelia Saunders had signed it.

He read the first few lines.
Amelia was a married friend of his mother’s who lived on the Isle of
Wight. There were references to escapades that had happened during
their twenties. The days referred to were long ago. By his reckoning his mother
would have been in her forties when she received this letter.

He skimmed through the rest of
the neatly written lines. There were no clues to his birth. There was an
enquiry about his health and a request for an up to date photograph, but the
contents were mainly about Amelia and the fact that she was undergoing hospital
tests.

As he continued to read the rest
of the letter the afternoon stood still. ‘What the fuck…?’ he muttered staring
at the pages in his hand. He threw them down and snatched up another envelope.
He tore it open and hurriedly scanned the contents. ‘I don’t believe it. The
devious cow!’ He ignored the telephone when it rang. He sat back and scratched
his head. It grew dark outside as he ploughed through the rest of the letters.
The phone rang again. This time, he answered.

‘Mark, it’s Tony. I thought you
were going back to the hospital to see your mum? I called earlier but nobody
answered.’

‘Yeah, I’m sorry, mate,’ Mark
said. ‘Can you come over? I’ve made a discovery and I’ve no on else to share it
with.’

‘I’m on my way.’

Mark was sifting through the
letters again, putting them in date order, when Tony knocked on the back door.

‘In here,’ he called as Tony
strolled into the dining room waving a bottle of whisky. ‘Ah, brilliant, and
bloody hell, am I ready for it! Grab a couple of glasses from the cupboard in
the lounge. Get the posh ones.’

Tony hurried back with two
cut-glass tumblers and placed them on the table. ‘Old Maude would have your
hide if she saw you drinking out of these.’

‘Not anymore,’ Mark said. ‘They
belong to me now. Everything does. The house, its contents and a whole lot
more.’

‘What do you mean?’ Tony frowned
and sat down opposite. ‘Has your old lady popped her clogs?’

‘In a manner of speaking, yeah,
she has.’

‘I’m really sorry, mate.’ Tony
patted his arm. ‘I know you didn’t get on with her, but still, she
was
your old mum. Were you with her at the end when she actually snuffed it?’

Mark shook his head. ‘No,
unfortunately, I wasn’t. She passed away when I was two years old. I never
really knew her.’

He smiled at Tony’s puzzled
expression.

‘What you on about? You been at
the booze before I arrived?’

‘It’s simple really. Maude’s not
my mother!’

‘What? Don’t be so fucking
stupid! Of course she’s your mother.’

Mark shook his head and indicated
the letters on the table. ‘I've been trying to find out if the house is paid
for in case she dies. I was concerned about my future and it’s something I’ve
never discussed with her. So I've looked through her private papers.

‘I told you I was illegitimate
when I found my birth certificate. If only I’d had the guts to look a bit
further. Anyway, no matter, I suspect the old cow kept this from me for her own
selfish reasons’.

‘But you showed me your birth
certificate. It says Maude’s your mother.’

‘That’s what really pisses me
off, the deception. While I was having a root I found this box of letters. My
past’s been hidden away in a cupboard almost all my life.’

‘You’ve lost me, Mark.’ Tony
scratched his head. ‘Pour us a drink and explain.’

Mark’s hand shook as he poured
the whisky and he knocked
his
back in
seconds flat.

‘I needed that. It’s a long
story. I’ve pieced it together from the letters. I made a few notes as I read
them. Anyway, the basic facts are these. My real mum was Amelia Saunders, a
friend of Maude’s. She married a naval officer and they lived on the Isle
of Wight. She had an affair with the local doctor who put her in
the club.’

Mark sighed and looked up at Tony
who was staring at him. ‘Her husband was away because of the war, so apart from
my father, Maude was the only other person who knew Amelia was pregnant. My
father agreed she should look after Amelia, before and after my birth.’

Mark poured another drink,
cleared his throat and took a slug while Tony listened intently, nodding now
and again.

Standing up, Mark paced the room
as he continued, ‘Amelia and my father couldn’t be together because of his wife
and kids so they decided when she gave birth, that Maude’s name would go on the
birth certificate as mother. Amelia hid her pregnancy and the plan was to tell
her husband that her friend Maude had given birth to a baby she daren’t take
home, and Amelia would bring me up. She and her husband were unable to have
kids of their own. Must have been firing blanks! You following me so far,
Tony?’

‘Erm, think so,’ Tony said,
knocking back his whisky.

‘My father delivered me at
Amelia’s place with Maude’s help. They got away with the plan for a year or so.
Maude returned home, Amelia had her own baby to look after, and my father’s
wife and kids were none the wiser. Then Amelia’s husband was injured and sent
home. He didn’t want her looking after Maude’s baby anymore, but she refused to
give me up. They split and he went off with another woman.’

Mark paused, offered Tony a
cigarette and lit one himself. ‘According to the letters, Jack Mainwaring, my
father, was a wealthy man. He’d inherited money and property and supported Amelia
and me for another year. Then she was taken ill and he asked Maude to come back
and look after me while she was having treatment for cancer.’

‘Bloody Hell,’ Tony said,
refilling the glasses.

‘She died a few months later.
With my father’s permission, Maude brought me to Pickford. This house and my
private education came out of his pocket. He paid Maude an allowance to take
care of me. There’s a couple of letters from him confirming their arrangement.
There’s a trust fund set up for me, which I’m to receive on my twenty-first
birthday. The house is mine;
everything
is in fact.’ Mark paraded up and down the room; shaking his fists and pulling
his hair.

‘So Maude’s your guardian, not
your mother? Maybe she’s planning to drop it on your toes on your birthday in
July?’ Tony said. ‘A surprise, like.’

‘I doubt it,’ Mark sneered. ‘All
the fucking years she’s laid down the law! That bloody woman ruled me with a
rod of iron. Well no more, Tony. The worm’s well and truly turned.’

‘It’s some story. But are you
sure you’ve read everything properly and you’re not getting all mixed up?’

‘No mix up. I’ve read and re-read
the letters. There’s a solicitor’s letter here too. It’s from a practice in Portsmouth
acting for Jack Mainwaring. I’ll ring them tomorrow to verify the details.
Here’s a photo of me with Amelia and Jack and also one of them together. Just
look at my parents. Weren’t they a good-looking couple? My real mother’s so
pretty compared to dumpy old Maude.’