The Rock'n'Roll Romance Box Set (Pam Howes Rock'n'Roll Romance Series) (23 page)

***

Jane was shaking as Eddie helped
her into the car and drove back to the flat.

‘I’ll fucking swing for Fisher,
upsetting you like that.’

‘Calm down, Ed. I’m fine, really.
He’s still very bitter, and he’s jealous of you. You’ve got everything he badly
wants; a successful group, me, this baby. I suppose it’s too much for him to
take in one go.’

‘Well he had
you
for three years, which is more
than I've had. He never made you as happy as I do,
and
he had his bloody chance. I suppose you think I should feel
sorry for him.’

‘No, I don’t. But let there be an
end to all the rivalry now,’ she said wearily. ‘Let’s go inside and relax.’

As she searched in her handbag
for the key, Eddie spotted a large, gaily-wrapped parcel propped by the door.
He looked at the label tied to the ribbons.

‘It’s for Jonny, from Cathy.’

‘That’s kind of her,’ Jane said.
An envelope addressed to them both was lying on the mat and she bent to pick it
up. As she pulled out the enclosed Christmas card a sheet of paper fell out.

Eddie caught the paper and
flopping down on the sofa he scanned through it.

‘She says congratulations on the
baby, and sorry she hasn’t been to visit for a while. She hopes we’re all okay.
She’s off to London in the New Year
and she’ll come and see us before she goes. She’d like to take Jonny out for
the day.’

‘I’m pleased she’s made a
decision about her future,' Jane said.

‘Yeah, she’s proved to be not
such a bad sort really. She’s very fond of Jonny.’

‘Can I get you a drink, Ed?’

‘I’m okay.’ He pulled her onto
the sofa. ‘I love you.’

‘And I love you,’ she said. ‘More
than anything in the world.’

He slid to the floor and knelt in
front of her, laying his head on her knees. 'What have I done to deserve all
this love?’

She stroked his hair, glad that
they’d left the club early. They had so little time together these days. Now
the group was making a name for itself she would see even less of him.

‘You’re just you, Ed. That’s why
I love you.’

He spoke softly, stroking her
tummy. ‘Hello, baby, this is Daddy. I’m dying to meet you. I wonder what you
are.’

‘She’s a girl,’ Jane said, with
the conviction of one who knows.

‘How can you be so sure?’ He
looked up, shaking his fringe from his eyes.

‘I have this feeling. It’s a
woman thing.’

‘Have you thought of any names
for our daughter then?’

‘I like Jessica.’

‘Jessica,’ he repeated. ‘Yeah, I
like that too. Jessie for short?’

‘It matches Jonny,’ she said.
‘Jessie and Jonny, they sort of go together. It’s a lovely name.’

‘She’ll be a lovely baby, just
like her mum.’

‘And her dad. Hope she’s got your
blue eyes.’

‘Supposing it’s a boy, will you
be very disappointed?’

‘No, but I feel sure it’s a girl
for some reason. If it’s a boy, I like the name Justin.’

‘Justin time!’ Eddie grinned.
‘Well he would be.'

Jane stood up, stretching. ‘I’m
going to make a cuppa. Would you like one? Then we should go to bed because
we’ve got to get up early.’

‘I’m going to sample my Christmas
present from Roy and Sammy first.’ He pulled a small package from his jeans
pocket.

‘He’s gone a bit overboard with
the fancy paper and ribbons.’ Jane laughed.

‘I suspect Sammy had a hand in
the wrapping. It’s more her style than Roy’s.
Do you want to share some?’

‘No thanks, Ed, it makes me feel
a bit sick. And we don’t want a stoned baby, do we?’

‘Heaven forbid! You don’t mind if
I do?’

‘Of course not. It helps you
unwind. I’ll make some tea and get out of this dress.’

‘Jane, are you sure you’re okay?
I mean, after that business with Fisher.’

‘I’m fine, really. Put it out of
your mind, please
.’

‘It’s not easy. The thoughts of
him anywhere near you does my head in.’

‘He’d had too much to drink,
that’s all. It won’t happen again.’

‘It had better not, or I mean it,
I’ll fucking kill him!’

***

Jane slipped out of her clothes
and pulled on her nightdress. She sat down on the bed to brush her hair. She
didn’t want Ed to know that she was still feeling shaken by Mark’s outburst and
terrified by the cold look in his eyes as he’d pushed his face close to hers.
Hopefully, now he knew she was pregnant
and
married to Eddie, he would get on with his own life.

She thought she might contact
Vicky in the New Year, just to make sure Mark was alright. Though why she was
bothering, when he seemed to have no concerns for her other than wanting to
upset her, she didn’t know. But there was something very strange about him
tonight and it scared her. She wanted to be certain he was going back to Chester
as soon as possible.

***

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

FEBRUARY 1965

Mark swallowed his pills and
gulped down a mouthful of whisky. He threw the Isle of Wight
letters into his briefcase, slipped the whisky bottle into his holdall and
propped his luggage by the front door while he looked for his car keys.

As he rummaged on the hall table
he knocked a large plant off. The pot smashed against the wall, spilling soil
all over the carpet. ‘Fuck it,’ he muttered, grabbing his keys.
 

He chucked his bags into the boot
of his new Austin Healy Sprite, shot off the drive and began the journey to Portsmouth.
In spite of Tony, Sara and Vicky’s protestations about the trip, he’d decided
it was time to find his roots. He had four older half-siblings and someone on
the island must know their whereabouts. The last known address for their late
father was in Freshwater, which is where he planned to make a start.

He fiddled with the car radio,
trying to tune in Caroline, but settled for Housewife’s Choice. As
Jim Reeves
warbled
I Won’t Forget You,
he thought of Jane
and turned the radio off. His mind wandered over the events of the last few
weeks and the visit to his doctor who told him he’d suffered a nervous
breakdown. He was glad the doc had suggested a holiday, a complete break from
Pickford. It would get him away from Vicky and her bloody clingy ways.

He thought about Mellor,
threatening him in the club. ‘I’ll kill the fucker one of these days,’ he
mumbled, swerving onto the A34 in front of a laden lorry. The driver tooted and
Mark stuck two fingers up and pulled away. He put his foot down and his
thoughts turned to Jane again and he tried to imagine a scenario where she
might leave Mellor and come back to him. He blinked rapidly; his eyes were
getting misty again. The pills did that for the first hour or so, especially
when he downed them with whisky.

He turned the radio back on and
this time joined in the chorus of
Yeh,
Yeh,
singing along with
Georgie
Fame. T
he traffic was fairly light for mid-morning a
s he blasted along
in his racing
green, frog-eyed car. He’d stop somewhere in an hour or two for coffee.

***

Mark flicked his collar up
against the chilly afternoon and strode purposefully down the main street. He’d
made good time on the roads yesterday and the
1:00
PM
ferry had left promptly. He’d booked into the hotel, collapsed
on the bed and slept all night and most of this morning. He felt relaxed but
was out of fags and whisky. He’d intended to buy more at the ferry terminal
yesterday but his head had been fucked and he’d forgotten. He crossed the road
and popped into the newsagents. He paid for his fags and asked the middle-aged
assistant for directions to the doctor’s surgery.

‘There are two hereabouts,’ the
woman said. ‘Doctor Mainwaring and Doctor Lovell. Which one do you want?’

‘I thought Doctor Mainwaring was
dead?’ Mark said, frowning.

‘Lord no! He’s very much alive
and kicking. In fact, only yesterday I took my bunions along to see him. Doctor
Jack passed some years ago, but his son, Doctor Charles, well he took over the
practice when his father died.’

Mark nodded. Of course, it made
sense that one of Jack Mainwaring’s sons should follow in his father’s
footsteps.

‘And where’s Doctor Mainwaring’s
surgery please?’

‘Where it’s always been, my dear.
Two streets down on this side and take a left turn. You can’t miss it. There’s
a sign outside the door. It’s best to ring for an appointment. Do you have the
number to hand?’

‘No, I don’t,’ he replied. ‘Could
you write it down for me, please? And thanks for your help.’ He pocketed the
piece of paper. Saying goodbye he spotted an off licence two doors down, nipped
in and bought two bottles of whisky.

He lit a fag and made his way
back to the hotel. It seemed as though it was going to be pretty easy to trace
his family. One brother was called Charles. Mark wondered about the other
Mainwaring offspring, their names, where they
lived, what they were doing. Amelia had referred to Jack’s sons and daughters
in some of her letters to Maude, but not by name. No doubt if he’d spoken to
Maude he could have gleaned a bit more information. But asking her anything
about his late father’s family was something he couldn’t bring himself to do.

Back in his room he picked up the
engagement photo of him and Jane and ran a finger over her face. ‘One day,
girl, you’ll be mine again. You’ll be begging me to take you back.’ He
remembered saying that to her last year. Did she ever think about him at all?
It was a year this week since they’d split up.

A whole year and his life had
been turned upside down. He put the photo back on the bedside table and poured
a large whisky. He took a slug with a handful of pills and reached for his
briefcase. He looked through the letters from Amelia and the firm of Portsmouth
solicitors. There were also details of the five-thousand-pound legacy he’d got
for his twenty-first. His old man had been generous in seeing him financially
provided for. He didn’t know where this visit was going to lead, but it was
something he felt compelled to do.

He glanced at the piece of paper
with the scribbled phone number. He wasn’t going to make an appointment though.
He’d turn up tomorrow, maybe after morning surgery, tell them he was ill and it
was an emergency. Surely they’d agree to see him? He checked his watch, not
quite six. He drained his glass and lay back on the bed, hands folded behind
his head. Dinner was at seven. He should call Tony and Vicky; let them know he
was okay. But he couldn’t be bothered. The booze and pills were having that
feel-good effect where he could imagine he was not one, but two, very different
people.

In his head he was living his
imaginary life with Jane. He closed his eyes and groaned, hands reaching to his
crotch. If he called home now it would take him out of his reverie and he
couldn’t wank when he was thinking of Vicky. His thoughts of Jane also helped
block the faceless-baby nightmares he still had and the reality that she was
married to Mellor.

***

‘Doctor Mainwaring will see you
now, Mr Collins.’ The receptionist’s pleasant voice jolted Mark from his
daydream. He’d been deep in thought, thinking that the slim, dark-haired woman,
who’d greeted him when he arrived at the surgery, was doing the same job his
late mother had done. She’d agreed to squeeze him in if he was prepared to
wait.

‘Thanks,’ Mark replied. He picked
up his briefcase and walked down the corridor. He knocked on a door bearing a
brass plaque inscribed
Doctor Mainwaring
.
The plaque was old but well polished. He wondered if it was originally his
father’s.

‘Come in!’ a disembodied voice
called.

Mark entered as Charles
Mainwaring looked up from behind an old mahogany desk. Had that been his dad’s,
too?

‘Good morning, Mr Collins. My
wife tells me you’re on holiday and feeling unwell?’

‘Your wife?’ Mark frowned. ‘Oh,
your wife’s the receptionist.’

‘She certainly is. Take a seat,
please.’

Mark sat down and placed his
briefcase between his feet. He stared at Charles and took a deep breath. It was
like looking in a mirror. His half-brother was his spitting image; same brown
hair and soft grey eyes. Mark wondered if Charles was also aware of the
likeness. But how could he be? He’d probably no idea to this day that his dad
had fathered a bastard.

‘What are your symptoms?’ Charles
began.

‘Actually, I’m not ill,’ Mark
confessed. ‘My name’s not Collins and I really don’t know where to begin.’
Charles looked up with surprise as Mark continued. ‘My name’s Mark. I believe
we may be brothers. Well actually, we
are
definitely brothers.’

He fell silent as Charles frowned
and shook his head, a look of bewilderment in his eyes.

‘I’m sorry. Did you say,
brothers?’

Mark lifted his briefcase onto
the desk and opened it. He handed Charles the snapshot of Jack and Amelia.
Charles’ eyes widened as he stared at the photograph.

‘That’s my late father, Jack!’ he
exclaimed. ‘That lady used to be the receptionist here when I was a boy, Amelia
Saunders.’

‘That’s right,’ Mark said.
‘Amelia was my mum and Jack was
my
dad too.’

‘But I don’t understand,’ Charles
faltered. ‘How on earth…? I mean - Amelia died years ago. How do you know she
was your mother? Where have you been all this time? I’m sorry, Mark, I’m afraid
I’m at a loss.’

‘I felt exactly the same when
I
discovered the truth,’ Mark said. ‘But
believe me, it
is
the truth. I have enough letters and documentation to
prove it.’

Charles looked totally
bewildered. ‘Listen, Mark, don’t think me really rude, but I have to go on my
rounds shortly. I’m a one-man band and there’s nobody who can stand in for me.
Where are you staying?’

‘The Springfield Hotel,’ Mark
replied.

‘Come back tonight about seven.
Have something to eat with us and we’ll discuss this then.’ He indicated Mark’s
papers with his hand. ‘My elder sister, Dorothy lives up the road in Yarmouth.
I’ll call her and invite her to dinner and then we can all sit down and talk
properly.’

Mark rose and extended his hand.
‘Thanks - err, Charles. I’m sorry to keep you from your work. I’ll see you
tonight.’

Charles grasp was firm and his
smile friendly. ‘I’m truly intrigued. But looking at
you
is like looking in a mirror a few years back. I’d better go and
grab a quick snack and let my wife know that we’ve two extra for dinner
tonight.’

***

Mark towelled himself dry and
pulled on black trousers and a clean shirt. He brushed his hair and sat down on
the bed. He popped three pills in his mouth and swallowed them down with whisky
again. That’d keep him going for a while, he thought, yawning. He was
knackered; it was tiring having nothing to do all day. He’d taken a walk after
leaving Charles then spent the afternoon in his room, dozing and thinking about
Jane. The short walk to the surgery would wake him up. He’d call in the
off-licence and get a bottle of wine to take with him.

***

‘So, you’re my sister,’ Mark
said, shaking the hand of the plump woman Charles had introduced as Dorothy.
‘Nice to meet you.’ She was tall with the same grey eyes as he and Charles, but
her hair was darker and she wore it long. She was dressed in a short,
over-tight dress and the buttons strained over her huge breasts. She looked a
bit what Maude might call a floozy, he thought and stifled a grin.

‘It’s nice to meet you, too,’ she
said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

‘And this is my wife, Penny,’
Charles said and Mark reached out to shake her hand. ‘But of course you met her
this morning. Come through to the dining room, Mark.’

Mark took a seat at the table and
Penny placed a heaped plate in front of him. ‘Hope you like chicken casserole,’
she said. ‘Help yourself to veg.’

‘Lovely. Thank you.’ Mark stared
at Dorothy who kept her gaze on her meal and he wondered why. Mind you, he
thought, when some geezer turns up out of the blue claiming to be your
long-lost brother, what more could he expect.

There was an awkward silence as
they tucked in. Mark knocked back a glass of wine.

‘A refill, Mark?’ Charles stood
up and reached for the bottle. ‘Dot?’

‘Just a drop, Charles,’ Dorothy
said. ‘I’m driving and I’ve had two glasses already. We were at the bottle
before you arrived,’ she told Mark.

‘I see. Well, I’m walking. So
I’ll have another, thanks.’

‘That was one of Dad’s traits,’
Dorothy said. ‘He had rather a passion for the old vino.’

‘Did he?’ Mark sighed. ‘I wish I
could remember him,
and
my mum.’

Dorothy nodded. ‘You must excuse
me if I seem a little distant, Mark. I’m just getting over the shock of you
turning up out of the blue.’

‘I guess you are,’ Mark said.
‘When we’ve finished the meal I’ll show you my papers, prove to you that I’m
really your brother.’

‘I have no doubt that you are,’
Dorothy said. ‘The resemblance to Charles is uncanny
.
And
I
also have
something to show
you.’

Mark nodded as Penny jumped up to
clear their plates. ‘Sherry trifle for dessert, everybody?’

‘Oh, yes please,’ Charles
grinned. ‘You’ve never tasted anything like Pen’s trifles,’ he said to Mark.
‘They’re out of this world.’

***

Mark excused himself as Penny and
Dorothy cleared the dishes and he and Charles retired to the sitting room.

‘Take a seat.’ Charles gestured
to the sofa. Mark flopped down in front of a blazing log fire. Charles parked
himself on a chair opposite. ‘Right then, let’s have a look at the letters and
stuff.’

Mark handed over his briefcase.
Charles sifted through the letters from Amelia and the documents from the
solicitors, nodding from time to time.

Mark glanced around the large
room, with its tall ceilings and elegant furniture. He bet it hadn’t changed
that much since his father lived here. He could see a photograph on the
mantelpiece and got up to look. ‘May I?’

‘Certainly,’ Charles replied.
‘It’s Mum and Dad taken a couple of years before Mum died and about a year
after Amelia’s death. Poor old bugger, eh? Lost both his women.’

Mark smiled and studied the
photo. Charles’s mother was a large, formidable looking woman. No wonder his
dad had been tempted into a fling with the lovely Amelia.

Penny carried in a tray and
placed it on the coffee table. Dorothy followed, carrying a bottle of brandy
and four glasses. Under her arm was tucked a large brown envelope.

Dorothy took a seat on the sofa
and patted the space beside her.