Touchstone Season One- Complete Box Set

by Andy Conway

  “But he’ll be with the band,” she protested.

  “You’ve got to get him alone. Now’s your chance. I’ll work on Esther.”

  Lorna slipped away, heading down the corridor, shoulders hunched. She really was a shy girl. That’s where I got it from, Rachel thought.

  She watched Esther make small talk with a few people and then followed her to the kitchen, which was already an explosion of empty bottles, its tiled floor drenched and muddy. About twenty people were huddled in there, shouting philosophy over roll ups. Esther found a half-bottle of wine and sniffed at it, grimacing.

  “That looks rancid,” Rachel said.

  Esther turned with surprise, a tart who the hell are you? look on her face.

  “This might be better.” She held up her bottle and Esther’s eyes lit up.

  “Lambrusco!” she said, impressed. “That’s really nice of you.”

  She ran dirty glasses under the tap and Rachel filled them.

  “Cheerio,” said Esther.

  “To the future.”

  They toasted and knocked it back.

  “It’s a lovely wine,” said Esther.

  “You’ve obviously got good taste.”

  Esther gave her a curious look. “Oh, wait a minute. I know you. You’re the girl who fainted at Martyn’s gig the other night.”

  Rachel ignored the thread of amusement in her voice. She could tell it was something Esther had laughed at, taken delight in, but now she was swallowing it down, along with her cheap wine.

  “Yes, you’re the girl who helped me,” Rachel said, pretending to be grateful. “I knew I recognized you. Thank you so much for that.”

  They were playing a game. They were both going to pretend that they hadn’t met at the gig earlier. They were both going to pretend that Esther hadn’t been an ignorant cow.

  “I should thank you,” Esther said.

  “Oh really? Why’s that?”

  “Well, you know the guy who was there too? He’s in the band?”

  “Oh yes, Martyn isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. Well because of that we got talking and now we’re a couple.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yes. And all because of you.”

  “How amazing.”

  Rachel knew she had to work on Esther’s jealousy. There was a glint of madness in her. She’d seen it. She had to poke the rattlesnake and make it go wild.

  “He’s a fun guy, isn’t he? We had a great time with him the other afternoon.”

  Esther’s fake grin turned soured. “Oh really? When was that?”

  “Er, let me see. Oh yes, yesterday. Seems longer than that.”

  “Yesterday afternoon? That’s funny. I was with him yesterday afternoon.”

  “In town? We bumped into him and Mark, the drummer, outside the Odeon.”

  “Oh. After lunch, then.”

  “Right. Must have been right after you were with him. It was so funny. They were plucking up the courage to walk into Boots and buy some make-up, so we did it for them. Then we all went to Mark’s flat and we showed them how to put it on. They didn’t have a clue at first but they got it in the end.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Esther.

  Her face had turned purple with rage. She really was a nutter. Rachel steeled herself for any kind of physical attack.

  “It’s true. We were playing records all afternoon. Me and my friend Lorna. You must have seen her, at the Ultravox gig tonight.”

  Esther glared, all pretence of friendship buried now. “You’re lying.”

  “No,” said Rachel simply, digging in her handbag and pulling out the top photograph. “See. I got this developed at the new express place in town. They can do them in an hour now.”

  Esther stared at the photograph. There it was, in soft-focus colour. Martyn with his arm around Lorna, sitting on Mark’s bed.

  “I’m surprised he didn’t tell you,” she said.

  Rachel caught the photo as it fluttered to the floor.

  Esther was marching out. She had the Lambrusco bottle in her hand.

  — 41 —

  LORNA STOPPED AT THE open door of the room where the band were setting up. She had cringed all the way and fully expected to turn right around with embarrassment as soon as they all looked at her and asked what the hell she thought she was doing interrupting their set-up.

  But the scene that greeted her was not the one she expected. Martyn did turn to face her just at the moment she appeared, and his face was twisted with hate, but she knew immediately that it was nothing to do with her showing up, because behind him the singer was collapsed against the drum kit and the keyboardist was trying to revive him. Mark looked at her and gave her a sort of embarrassed shrug that said, Well, what a turn up, eh?

  The hate in Martyn’s eyes evaporated and surprise replaced it, and just for a moment, there was something else in his eyes, something that looked pleased to see her.

  She imagined it was how she looked when he appeared, but all the time, not just for a moment.

  Martyn walked towards her and muttered, “Hello, Lorna.”

  He turned back and indicated Glen on the floor and muttered something by way of explanation but she couldn’t hear it.

  He pushed past her and headed up the corridor towards the kitchen. There were people hanging out and chatting all the way up the corridor. She rushed to catch him up, her arm on his.

  “What happened?”

  He stopped. Tried not to look her in the eye. “I think the band just split up,” he said. He winced, clutching his fist.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “You should see the other guy.”

  He smiled at that. She could see the bathroom over his shoulder. She pushed him inside.

  “You need to get that under cold water or it’ll swell.”

  He obeyed meekly and she was holding his wrist in the sink, the cold water running over his red knuckles. She lifted his other hand up to compare. It was definitely swelling. She could feel his pulse beating in his wrist.

  “This should keep the swelling down,” she said. “It’s good if you get it early. An ice pack would probably be better. I’ll sort one out for you.”

  She looked up and found him gazing at her with a silly grin on his face.

  “We keep bumping into each other,” he said.

  She nodded and smiled. “That’s the gods. What the hell happened there?”

  “Oh, just musical differences.”

  She laughed. “Musical differences? Okay.”

  “Yeah, the difference between not having fifty quid and having your band mate steal it.”

  “Blimey,” she said. “Between you and me, though, I always thought he was a bit of a prat.”

  Martyn laughed. “Yeah, me too.”

  He stopped smiling.

  So did she.

  He was looking at her all funny, with a sudden seriousness, his eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips.

  This was it.

  This was the moment they would kiss.

  She leaned in a little and felt her eyes closing.

  — 42 —

  RACHEL RAN DOWN THE corridor and screamed, “No!”

  Everyone stopped their chatting and followed the drama.

  Esther did a double-take as she passed the bathroom door. “So that’s it, is it?” she yelled.

  She was feral, crazy.

  Rachel tried to grab her but was too late.

  Esther launched herself into the bathroom.

  Rachel heard the bottle smash and Lorna scream. She reached the door.

  Lorna had fallen into the bath, her legs hanging over the rim, and was trying to push herself up. Martyn had fallen back against the toilet.

  Esther raised the bottle, its jagged green barracuda teeth flashing.

  Lorna gripped the shower curtain and it popped from the railing, rings exploding, and she fell back as Esther swiped at her.

  The shower c
urtain slashed.

  Rachel glanced around. She was looking for something to smash on Esther’s head. But there was nothing. She felt people crowding in behind her.

  Esther slashed again at the shower curtain that now draped Lorna.

  Then she cannoned against Rachel, knocking her back into the corridor.

  They all fell back.

  Martyn had launched himself at Esther’s waist. She was winded, but she brought the bottle down on him.

  Someone caught her hand. Slammed it back against the wall.

  She was screaming, “I’m gonna kill you, you bitch!”

  The man banged her hand against the wall again. The bottle fell to the floor.

  Martyn slumped back.

  Esther towered over him, spitting hate. “I’m gonna kill her!”

  More men rushed to hold her back. Three of them had her now.

  Martyn tried to scramble to his feet.

  Lorna appeared, pulling the slashed shower curtain off herself, staring at Esther’s screaming face.

  Martyn stood between them, turned, relieved to see Lorna safe. He held her close to him.

  Esther’s screams rocketed, piercing, drowning out the frantic yells of everyone around.

  “Get away from her, you mad cow!” Martyn shouted.

  Rachel felt a fleck of spittle hit her face as Esther was dragged down the corridor.

  One of the men shouted, “That’s it! You’re leaving!” and she realized he must be Vince.

  Rachel saw the pain on Martyn’s face: alarm and terror and the realization that he’d almost made a terrible mistake, woken from a trance and found himself at the altar with a psychopath.

  Rachel followed the scrum down the corridor. Some girls were screaming. Esther was still shouting out obscenities. It was terrifying, but Rachel couldn’t help smiling at the wonderful sight, as she glanced back, of Martyn holding Lorna close to him, protecting her, her face buried in his chest.

  She followed the scrum out onto the landing and watched them bundle mad Esther out of the door. A few of them followed her out onto the street. Vince was telling her to get lost. She wasn’t coming in again.

  Rachel ducked back into the front room and rushed to the window, where a crowd of people were looking down at the entertainment.

  Esther was waving her arms around, crying now, still screaming.

  “What did she do?”

  “Just attacked a girl with a bottle.”

  “In the shower!”

  “My god. Is she all right?”

  “Think so.”

  “It was like Psycho, I’m telling you.”

  A few of them mouthed the Wuh! Wuh! Wuh! Wuh! music and laughed.

  Esther ranted for a while but then walked off. A car only just swerved and missed her as she marched across to the village green, past the toilets on the corner and across to the line of taxis by the Bulls Head.

  She climbed into one, slamming the door behind her and it sailed away and out of Rachel’s life forever.

  — 43 —

  “I’M TELLING YOU,” SAID Martyn. “It’s the next big thing!”

  “What? Guys playing records?” said Lorna. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “Bands are finished. Trust me.”

  Mark laughed. “I’d better sell my druuuuum kiiiiit.”

  “He’s right, you know,” said Rachel.

  Lorna gave her a curious look, wide-eyed. Really?

  “When you think about it,” said Martyn. “The cult of the individual, and all that. It’s about as individual as you can get.”

  “But it’s just playing other people’s records,” said Lorna.

  They passed the bottle of wine between them — Mark’s stash of wine — sitting on an old sofa in the bay window. Martyn had his arm around Lorna.

  Rachel glowed inside to see it, her triumph only tempered by the fear that Mark might be about to put his arm around her.

  “I mean look at the alternative,” said Martyn, indicating the other end of the flat with a wave of his hand.

  A dull wave of synth noise was bubbling down the corridor from the back room where Glen Gr[a]e and Paul Nuevo were plodding through an impromptu set, trying to play without Martyn Heinz and Mark Haze. Glen had recovered his dignity and insisted the show had to go on, even though he looked like he might cry at any second. With no bass and no rhythm, not even a drum machine to replace Mark, their songs had seemed like some awful ambient set with inexplicable shouty vocals and an even more inexplicable presence of a full drum kit with no drummer. It had the look of clumsy performance art, and the room had quickly emptied.

  Rachel felt the soothing wine flow through her, blissful. She was shaking. The whole thing had nearly backfired. She’d been dealing with the Parkers for a hundred years. The whole family. She had hated them, loved them, helped them, thought about killing them. Amy and Maddy and Esther. And it had all come to this night and murderous Esther ranting and trying to kill Rachel’s mother.

  Did people who only existed as a result of a time travel error — much like time travellers themselves — turn into murderous psychopaths?

  It was as if that chance mistake — her life being wiped out because Amy Parker hadn’t died in 1912 when she should have — was fighting to maintain itself, fighting for its own life. Chance was fighting against Fate, and fighting dirty.

  The sight of Lorna falling back into the bath as Esther slashed at her with a broken bottle. The speck of froth from Esther’s crazy, screaming mouth hitting Rachel’s face. That grand mistake, that anomaly, had raged against its own deletion.

  Rachel shuddered. Someone walking over her grave.

  But it had worked.

  It had scared Martyn right into the arms of Lorna.

  Her mother and father were together, and a hundred-year mistake was corrected.

  The booming synth noise from the other end of the house finished and left only the sound of proper music coming from the middle room where people were dancing.

  After a while, Paul Nuevo walked in, holding a can of lager, saw them and nodded.

  Rachel saw Martyn’s face. Would there be some showdown?

  Paul walked across the room and stood over them. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” said Martyn.

  Mark gave him a thumbs up.

  “How did it go?” said Martyn.

  “Terrible,” said Paul. “I just thought I’d say, I don’t blame you. For not playing. Probably right.”

  Martyn nodded. Mark shrugged.

  “He said he’s really sorry and he’s gonna pay you back. He just got embarrassed and started telling lies to cover it up.”

  “Why isn’t he telling me that?” asked Martyn.

  Paul shrugged. “Too ashamed?”

  “So he should be.”

  Paul nodded and drank some beer.

  “What you gonna do?” Martyn asked.

  “Think I’m going solo,” said Paul.

  They all nodded.

  “He’s an idiot,” said Paul.

  They all laughed.

  Paul held out his can of lager and Martyn chinked it with the wine bottle.

  “Listen. I’m going in to listen to Vince DJing. He says he’s got a promo disk of the new Visage single. He’s gonna play it now.”

  “Brilliant,” said Martyn. He turned to Lorna. “Shall we go and have a listen?”

  “Yeah. Great,” she said.

  They all got up and pushed into the middle room. It was rammed with dancers gyrating to Iggy Pop’s The Passenger.

  Glen was standing alone on the other side of the room, pressed against the wall looking like a glum drunk about to face a firing squad. He turned his back on them and sucked on a cigarette.

  Vince nodded to them and smiled and held up the 12” picture sleeve with Steve Strange’s face on it. There was a buzz of excitement around the room. He must have told everyone it would be unveiled tonight. Someone cheered. Vince caught Martyn’s look and winked. He let Iggy Pop fade out and
cross-faded the new Visage single.

  A low rhythm machine that seemed too quiet and gentle to please the crowd. But then a stronger synth pulsed and gave it bite, and a bass drum kicked in. A woman said something no one caught, and Steve Strange started singing about a man on a lonely platform.

  Heads were nodding all around. Most of the room started dancing. It was good. It was really good.

  The chorus hit and Rachel recognized it as Fade to Grey and thought, oh, that’s really famous. This is a really big hit. And then the woman on the record was speaking some more and it was clear she was speaking in French.

  Martyn laughed.

  Glen, on the other side of the room was glaring at Vince. He flapped his arms out in a You have got to be kidding me! gesture. He shouted something at the room. No one paid him any heed. He stormed out.

  Martyn laughed again. He put his arms around Lorna and they swayed together as the music played on.

  Rachel stepped back into the shadows. It was looking very much like Mark was going to copy Martyn and put his arms around her, anyway. She stepped out of range and watched from the edge of the crowd.

  Lorna glanced around, looking for her, smiling and gesturing her over to dance. Rachel shook her head. Their smile lit the room with love. Mother and daughter. Best friends.

  As soon as Lorna turned back to Martyn, Rachel slipped out of the room. She was down the stairs and opening the front door in moments. She paused before letting the door close. It would lock her off from this life. She would go back to 2014 and a world where she had been born. Her father, Martyn, would recognize her and welcome her home again. Her nan, Olive, would be there. Rachel would be a student at the university again, being looked at askance by the likes of snobby Jessica, Stacy, Tyrone and Ben. Her mother, Lorna, would be dead, having been taken by cancer when she was too young to remember her face, but she would have had this time with her. She’d been her friend for a few precious days, and that was something. It was time to return to her old life.

  She let the door close.

  The music boomed against the windows and she hummed Fade to Grey to herself as she turned and readied herself to walk across the road, uncertain if she should go back from the flat or walk to the churchyard and use the touchstone.