Before long, though, my eyes were closing and I was drifting off, dreaming about Ray; about the dark eyes that looked as though they hid so much, about the dark hair that blew about in the wind, about the stubble that gave him a dangerous, sexy look. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to think about anything else again.
Because I knew, without a doubt, that I was in love. And it felt great.
I also knew, even then, that my life was about to take a very different course. And I couldn’t wait.
6
1975–1976
I lay back on the beach, pebbles digging into my back, sand burrowing itself into my hair, and watched the stars above me, the sky stretched out like a dome of twinkly lights to infinity. The moon stared back at me like a belligerent child, challenging.
A hiccup erupted from my throat and it made me giggle. I sat up and the world tipped with me, until the stars and the moon were replaced by a straight line where the sea and the sky met, the rippled surface of the water the only way to tell the two apart. Every now and then the line tipped, before tipping back the other way. I rubbed my eyes.
‘Oops, I think I might have had one too many.’ I put my hand over my mouth as I felt another hiccup emerge, and suddenly I was flat on my back again, Ray on top of me, my ribcage squashed into the firm sand beneath his weight. His face loomed over mine, the stars twinkling on either side of his face, his breath warm on my skin. His hair flopped forward, the gel clearly no match for gravity, which pulled it down towards the earth to tickle my forehead, and it made me giggle again.
‘Hey, I can’t breathe, you big bully!’
His weight lifted from me slightly and I gasped in some air, but he stayed where he was, his face serious.
‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Just looking at you. I’m allowed, aren’t I?’
‘I suppose so.’
He went silent again and slowly, agonizingly, he moved his head downwards and sank his lips onto mine. They tasted of salt and beer and the outdoors, and they were warm and dry. I responded hungrily, and wriggled underneath him as he pressed his body into me. Then as suddenly as he’d arrived, he rolled off me and hunched forward to light a cigarette in one smooth move, cupping his hand round the flame to stop it going out.
I sat up again and snatched the cigarette from his hand and sucked in a lungful of nicotine. I was still new to this, and my head swam and the stars blurred into one in the black sky. He just grinned, plucked another one from the packet and carried on.
I loved being here on the beach at night, when it was quiet and peaceful and the sky was lit up like a ballroom, like our own private show. I watched as the smoke from my cigarette floated up into the sky, the ash dropping from the end onto the sand and glowing for a few seconds before dying out.
I glanced across at Ray, who was smoking quickly as though his life depended on it, his cheeks sucking in greedily and blowing smoke out in little ‘o’s. I watched the profile of his face outlined against the lights from the promenade behind us: the straight run of his nose, the full lips, the chiselled cheekbones, accentuated by each in-breath, the sprinkle of stubble that always formed on his chin by the end of the day. It was a face that had become so familiar to me over the last three months I could have drawn it with my eyes closed. Our love affair had spiralled quickly since that very first date on his motorbike, and now my life had become entirely about this man, who, although I was getting to know him better, was still an enigma. But for me, it was a challenge. I liked the idea that there was something to discover; it made life more fun.
We spent most days together when I wasn’t at work, and when I was he would wait for me at the end of my shift, leaning on his motorbike across the road, puffing on a cigarette and looking like my very own James Dean. My heart swelled with love and pride every time, and as I climbed on the back of his bike and wrapped my arms round his chest I hoped other women were watching with jealousy. I knew I would be.
Ray still hadn’t told me the exact reason he’d come to Norfolk – maybe there wasn’t one, not really – but he did admit he didn’t have anywhere proper to live, that he’d been bunking down on friends’ sofas and floors.
‘You can stay with me whenever you like,’ I said, just a week after we met. I didn’t ask Sandy in case she said no, and by the time he turned up, rucksack in hand, that first evening, it was too late. His toothbrush became a permanent fixture in our little flat and his clothes hung from the back of the chair in my bedroom, and, although I knew Sandy wasn’t thrilled, she didn’t say anything. She’d never tell him to leave. She knew I was happy and that was all that mattered, and I loved her for that. He slept in my single bed with me, our limbs entwined, but fully clothed. I wasn’t ready to sleep with him, not yet, however much I longed to.
He didn’t have a job but seemed to keep himself busy most days. ‘I’ve got meetings with people, you know, who might have some work for me,’ he explained. But even though the work never seemed to materialize, he always seemed to have just enough money for whatever he happened to need – running his bike, buying food, taking me for dinner.
‘But what exactly do you do?’ I asked one night, as I served up a dinner of pork chops, boiled potatoes and peas. He tucked in, cutting his chop up roughly and shoving it into his mouth. I waited while he chewed and swallowed, then he put his knife and fork down carefully on the edge of the plate and rested his elbows on the table.
‘I just buy and sell a few things, that’s all. It’s nothing major, just enough to keep me going, just until I find a proper job. You know. So I can keep taking you out.’ He took a swig from his glass of beer and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. ‘Lovely pork chops, thanks.’ And that was that, end of conversation. He was good at closing things down when he didn’t want to say any more.
I didn’t push him for any more details of how he earned his money. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. As long as he had some money and wasn’t in trouble, it didn’t seem to matter.
Most nights we stayed in, snuggled up in bed, the bedroom filled with a fug of smoke that hung like a mist swirling round the lampshade. Other nights we sat in the lounge with Sandy, watching a bit of TV or listening to records: David Cassidy, Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac. But some nights we went out, just me and Ray, and they were the nights I liked the most. Like tonight, when we’d been to watch Ray’s band play in a pub near Norwich.
‘You were brilliant tonight,’ I said now, the air in front of me filling with smoke from my cigarette as I spoke.
‘Thanks. Aren’t I brilliant every night?’
‘Ha ha. You know what I mean.’
‘Yeah. Well. Thanks.’
‘What was that song you played at the end?’
‘It’s a new one, only just learned it. “Killing Me Softly”, it’s called. Did you like it?’
I nodded. ‘I loved it.’
‘Good. I hoped you would.’
I paused, tracing a love heart in the sand with my finger. ‘I think those girls at the front liked it too.’
There was a beat of silence before he spoke. ‘Which girls?’
‘You know which girls. The ones with the faces full of make-up and the tiny skirts who were standing at the front of the crowd practically salivating over you.’
‘Huh.’
I snapped my head round. ‘What does huh mean?’
He shrugged. ‘It just means huh. I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Really.’
He nodded. ‘Really. Well I mean, I saw them, obviously. But I saw a lot of people. There are always girls hanging around. It doesn’t matter. Not to me.’
‘I see.’ My voice was cold and I turned away and looked back out towards the horizon, my eyes threatening to fill with tears. I sniffed noisily and felt Ray’s head turn towards me.
‘You don’t have anything to worry about, you know.’
I kept my gaze trained resolutely out to sea.
‘Don’t I?’
‘No.’ His voice was softer now and he shuffled across the sand until his hip was touching mine, and held his hand up to my cheek. I turned to face him finally, and saw his eyes were dark, intense. My stomach flipped over. ‘I’m not interested in anyone else. Only you.’
‘Only me?’ My voice was a whisper in the dark.
He nodded. ‘Yes.’ His eyes flicked down to the sand, and then back to meet mine. ‘I love you, Jan.’
I felt a gasp form in my throat and I coughed to cover it up. He loved me! He loved me! I thought I was going to faint.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything? You just going to leave me hanging like a lemon?’
‘Sorry, I—’ I cleared my throat and forced the words out. ‘Oh gosh, Ray, I love you too.’ Blood rushed to my face and I was glad it was dark so he wouldn’t see me blushing as he pushed me back onto the sand again and kissed me, my world filling with nothing but him.
Like most things, the first few months of excitement soon settled into something more normal. I introduced him to my friends, and they all loved him.
‘You want to hold onto that one,’ Pamela said, grinning.
‘Yeah, I’m not sure I’d want him hanging round with other women in pubs all the time if he was my boyfriend,’ said Shirley, giving me a look that said she thought I was mad.
And I knew what they meant. Most women seemed to love Ray; he was like a magnet, girls swarming round him wherever we went, hanging on his every word. But it didn’t matter because, as he’d assured me, he really did seem only to have eyes for me, his gaze meeting mine over the tops of bouffy hairdos, his mouth tipped into a smile.
Besides, most of the time he was with me anyway. When we were together we spent our days zooming along the coast on his motorbike, eating chips on the beach when the sun shone, sheltering in pubs when it was cold and wet outside. Some days we’d just go to the end of Cromer pier and watch the fishermen catching oysters, and I loved sitting there on the old metal bench with the wind blowing my hair, just being with Ray and watching the waves dance and crash over each other way out to sea. It felt like a glimpse into the future, at the long-married old couple we could one day become, even though deep down I doubted Ray was the marrying type.
When it rained we’d go to the pictures, buying tickets for the latest James Bond or whatever was on, and huddle on the back row kissing, only watching half the film as Ray slipped his hand underneath my blouse and cupped my bra, making me gasp.
Some evenings we went out with the girls, tripping down the pier to the arcade, shovelling money into slot machines, the lights whirring round our heads and making us dizzy, the sound of coins tumbling onto metal trays, music pumping, voices shouting.
Other nights I went to watch him playing in pubs. We’d go on his bike, just the two of us, or I’d take the coach with the girls, piling on in our high heels and hot pants at the bus station in town, piling off again excitedly an hour later in Norwich.
I felt so proud as I watched him up on stage playing his guitar, the bright lights highlighting his dark eyes as he lost himself in the music. But the best part was when the band took a break and came to sit with us at the bar. I knew it was pathetic but I loved the envious looks on the other girls’ faces as they made their way towards us and Ray planted a kiss on my lips. I’d never been that girl before and it felt great.
There was one girl in particular who caught my eye, though – someone I’d noticed had been at Ray’s concerts on more than one occasion. She was always on her own, standing at the front by the stage to the right, the side where Ray usually played. She danced, her hair swishing from side to side, as she sang along to the songs, her arms in the air. And if you hadn’t been looking for it you probably wouldn’t have noticed, but it was clear to me that she was only there for Ray. She hardly took her eyes off him, and as he walked towards me at the end of the night and wrapped his arms around me she was always standing on the other side of the room, watching, before picking up her coat and walking out of the door.
One night I decided to mention it to Ray as he came off the stage, his face slick with sweat, his hair flopping forward into his eyes.
‘She’s here again.’
‘Who’s here?’ He pushed his hair back with one hand and wiped his other hand on his jeans.
‘That girl I always see. Over there.’ I nodded across to where she was standing, sipping her drink. She averted her gaze when Ray looked round, but he knew who I meant.
‘Oh, her. Yeah, she comes to most gigs we do.’ He took a sip of the beer I’d bought him, tipping his head back quickly and righting it again.
‘Don’t you think it’s weird?’
He shrugged. ‘Not really. Maybe she just likes our music.’
I nearly spat my vodka and orange all over him. ‘Oh come on, Ray, you know it’s more than that. She stands and watches you the whole time you’re on stage, then watches us when you’re with me. Maybe she thinks she’s being subtle but it’s creepy.’
‘Just ignore her. I do.’
I glanced over to where she was standing, pretending to look for something in her bag. She was tall and slim, and tonight her dark hair was piled on top of her head, her tiny skirt tugging at her slim thighs. I glanced down at the flares I’d thought were so cool when I’d chosen them, their lack of sex appeal obvious to me now, and grimaced.
‘I worry, though, Ray.’
‘What about?’
‘Well . . . ’ I fiddled with the buttons on my blouse. ‘What about the nights I’m not here? I know you said you’re not interested, but she clearly is, and if she persists, then . . . ’
Ray took hold of my chin and gently pulled my head round to face him. ‘Listen to me. I don’t know who she is and I don’t know why she’s here but you have to believe me, I’m not interested in her. Not at all. Not ever. You have to trust me.’
His face was close to mine and I could smell his breath, a mix of beer, cigarettes and something else, something musky, and I breathed in deeply. I had to stop this. I had to trust him. I knew he loved me, he’d already told me; what else did I want?
I let out a breath of air. ‘I’m sorry.’ My voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘I know. I do trust you. I just—’ I didn’t trust her, but I didn’t say it. Instead I leaned forward and planted a kiss on his lips, and when I pulled away and looked across the bar, she’d gone.
On a rare night when Ray was out and I hadn’t gone with him, I plonked myself down next to Sandy on the sofa where she was watching television, tucked my legs underneath me and said: ‘Right, who is it you fancy, then?’
She whipped her head round quickly. ‘What?’
I grinned. ‘Come on, I know you, you’ve been mooning round here for weeks now. There’s clearly someone.’
Sandy’s face reddened and she looked away, picking at a non-existent hole in her sock. ‘I haven’t been mooning.’ Her voice was cross but I knew she didn’t mean it.
‘Oh, OK. Sorry, my mistake.’ I stood and smoothed my trousers down and started to walk to the door.
‘OK, so there might be someone.’
I swivelled round, triumphant. ‘Ha, I knew it!’ I sat down next to her again and pulled my knees up. ‘Come on, then, tell me.’
Sandy’s face was even redder and she cleared her throat. I’d never seen her so unsure of herself. But then I’d never seen her interested in a man before either. I was excited.
‘Um. Well.’ She ran her hand across her face and looked at me. ‘It’s Mal, OK?’
I gasped. ‘Mal? As in Ray’s Mal?’ Mal was the drummer in their band. I’d had no idea Sandy was interested in him. He was so quiet, thoughtful, hardly spoke to anyone, least of all to Sandy.
She gave a tight nod. ‘But you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Ray. Especially Ray.’
‘Ha, I knew there was someone. But why can’t I tell anyone? Mal’s lovely, he’s bound to like you too. Ooh, just imagine it, we could go out on double dates, go away together . . . ’ I
trailed off.
‘No.’ Sandy’s voice was sharp. ‘You can’t tell him.’
‘But why?’
‘I just—’ She pushed a stray hair behind her ear. ‘If he hates me I’ll never be able to come out with you again. It will ruin everything, Jan.’
‘But he won’t hate you, Sandy. How could anyone hate you?’
She shrugged. ‘I just – it’s too embarrassing.’ She looked at me, her eyes pleading. ‘Promise me?’
I looked at her for a minute. I was shocked to see Sandy so unsure of herself, so scared. It wasn’t like my best friend at all. But I realized as I looked at her that actually, in the four years I’d known her, she’d never been out with anyone, never even shown any interest in anyone. This was clearly a big deal for her.
‘OK, I promise.’
‘Thank you, Jan.’ She stood then, and walked out of the room and into the kitchen, and moments later I heard her close her bedroom door and go to bed.
I meant to keep my promise to her, I really did. But I thought I was going to burst if I didn’t tell Ray, so I did. And a few nights later, when we all got dolled up to go to a dance at the local youth club, I knew straight away that he’d told Mal too.
‘How could you?’ I hissed. ‘You promised.’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, you promised Sandy and look where that got us.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, it’s fine. He likes her too. And if you’re going to drag us all to the sticks to go to a dance then we might as well have some fun.’
I punched his arm playfully. ‘Well, you’d better not have ruined everything or I’ll kill you.’
He grinned. ‘We’ll see.’
I’d been excited about this for weeks. It was just a dance at the youth club, but Ray had promised to come, and it was the first time I’d ever taken a boy to something like this. Usually I spent the night huddled in a corner with the girls, trying to avoid the attention of the local boys on the other side of the room. Now, though, I was arriving with Ray, a man three years older than me, and I felt so proud. Even better, he’d convinced his bandmates to come along as well – Mal, the drummer, Tom, the singer, and Ken, the guitarist. For the first time in my life I felt like one of the cool ones.
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