Stand by Me

by Judi Curtin

  ‘I have mislaid my wallet and I urgently need to make a phone call. I wonder if you could possibly …’

  Before he’d even finished his sentence, the woman opened her funny pink cube-shaped handbag and pulled out a few coins.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ said Graham. ‘So kind of you.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said the woman. ‘Happy to help.’ Then she walked off with her pink high heels tip-tapping on the footpath.

  I looked at the coins Graham handed me. ‘Are you sure this is real money?’ I asked turning the huge brown coins over in my hand. ‘I mean I love the cute hens and chickens and all but …’

  ‘Trust me,’ said Graham. ‘It’s real. I remember it well.’

  ‘How much is this one worth?’ I asked, holding up the biggest coin I’d ever seen.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Graham. ‘That’s on old penny. I’m not exactly sure, but I think it might have been worth about a cent.’

  ‘A cent!’ I repeated. ‘I guess you’d have needed a bucket full of them to buy a bar of chocolate.’

  ‘Things were cheaper back then,’ said Graham. ‘And I could talk about that all day, but I’d much prefer to go ahead and make that call.’

  The three of us squashed into the phone box, and Graham put some of the coins into the slot.

  ‘What are these for?’ asked Beth, pointing at two big buttons labeled ‘A’ and ‘B.’

  ‘If someone answers the phone, you push button A.’ he said. ‘But if there’s no answer, you push button B and get your money back. Now stop distracting me please – I need to make this call.’

  He took the paper with the number out of his pocket and picked up the receiver. Beth and I watched as he turned the dial for each number and then let it roll itself slowly back to the beginning. (Luckily phone numbers were short back in the day!)

  ‘Quick, put it on speaker,’ I said as he dialled the last number.

  ‘Ha, no speaker in 1969,’ he said. ‘This’ll have to do.’

  He held the receiver towards us and no one said anything as we listened to the beep-beep sound of the phone ringing. After what felt like half an hour, the beeping stopped and we heard a woman’s voice. ‘Good morning. Green Oaks Private School for Blind Girls. Mrs Jenkins speaking.’

  Graham pushed button A and there was lots of rattling as the coins dropped down.

  ‘Hello,’ said Graham, sounding posher than usual. ‘So sorry for bothering you, but I am calling about one of your former pupils – Jeanie Cottrell-Herbert.’

  ‘Ah, Jeanie,’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘Such a charming girl – a little ray of sunshine – everyone here loved her. Now, how can I help you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Graham. ‘Jeanie is a very dear old friend of mine, and I’ve lost touch with her. I was wondering if you could tell me where she went after she left your lovely establishment.’

  ‘I cannot possibly divulge that sort of information.’ Now Mrs Jenkins didn’t sound so friendly. ‘We have to respect the privacy of our girls.’

  ‘Please,’ said Graham. ‘It’s so very important for me to see Jeanie again.’

  For a second all I could hear was the rumble of the noisy old buses going by and the voice of a newspaper man shouting something about a war in Vietnam.

  ‘Please?’ said Graham again. ‘Please can you help me.’

  I could see the beginnings of tears in his eyes, and maybe Mrs Jenkins could hear the change in his voice.

  ‘All I can tell you is that we have a number of cottages in the grounds of our school,’ she said.

  ‘And did Jeanie move to one of those? Is she still …?’ Graham’s posh voice was gone, and he sounded like a hopeful little kid.

  ‘If I told you where Jeanie is, I would very likely lost my job.’ said Mrs Jenkins. ‘All I can say is that several of our former pupils live there. Now I really must go. Thank you for calling Green Oaks Private School for Blind Girls.’

  ‘Goodbye – and thank you so very much,’ said Graham as he hung up.

  Then he turned to us. ‘Do you girls think that Jeanie might be in one of those cottages?’

  Beth and I laughed. ‘Well, duh. Of course she is,’ said Beth. ‘Mrs J didn’t want to break the rules, but she was definitely telling you where Jeanie was.’

  ‘It’s called a hint,’ I said. ‘A big fat hint. Now I love you two very much, but I think I’ve spent enough of my life squashed into this phone-box with you. Let’s go – let’s go find Jeanie.’

  ‘But …’ began Graham.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ said Beth. ‘We’ll find Green Oaks school, and you can spend some time with your old friend. That’ll be totally cool. And you can find out what Molly and I told you already – that it’s not your fault that Jeanie’s blind. Soon you’ll be able to throw away all that guilt you’ve been dragging around with you since you were a little boy.’

  ‘That sounds very nice indeed,’ said Graham. ‘But there’s just one teeny-tiny little problem. Green Oaks School is in Maynooth – and that’s nearly twenty miles away – and we haven’t got any money to pay for the bus.’

  ‘Twenty miles is nothing,’ said Beth. ‘When Molly and I were in 1984 we—’

  ‘No way!’ I said. ‘There’s no way we’re walking twenty miles.’

  ‘Or we could—’ said Beth.

  ‘And we’re not trying to trick our way onto a train or a bus either,’ I said. ‘We’ll never get someone else to fall for our “electronic ticketing” story. All that stuff is much too scary for me. Why does Rico make things so hard for us? Why doesn’t he ever land us right where we need to be?’

  ‘I guess it’s like when we went to look for my mum, said Beth. ‘It’s sort of a quest – a mission.’

  ‘But I don’t like quests,’ I said, blinking my eyes quickly so the others couldn’t see the tears that were starting. ‘Why does it have to be so hard?’

  ‘It’s not hard,’ said Beth. ‘It’s fun!’

  ‘That’s not what you said when we nearly starved to death in 1984,’ I said. ‘We could have—’

  ‘Now, now, girls,’ said Graham. ‘No point squabbling about the past – or the future or whatever 1984 is. Leave it to me. I think I have an idea.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘You’re sure this is a good idea?’ said Beth.

  ‘Sure I am,’ said Graham. ‘It’ll work like a dream – I hope.’

  We were standing outside a hairdressers shop. The front was painted in swirly patterns of mauve and purple, and looking at them made me feel a bit dizzy.

  ‘Kevinz Kool Kutz,’ I said. ‘That’s a really lame name.’

  ‘Not in 1969, it wasn’t’ said Graham. ‘Back then it was considered very fancy.

  ‘And tell us again how you know Kevin,’ said Beth.

  ‘He was in my class at school,’ said Graham. ‘He never passed an exam in his life, and the teachers said he’d never amount to anything. He trained as a hairdresser and moved up here to open this place. It took a year or two to take off, but by 1975 he owned twenty branches of Kevinz Kool Kutz.’

  ‘So how come we’ve never heard of them?’ I asked.

  Graham smiled. ‘Kevin was a hippy at heart – and he was never comfortable with all the trappings of money and success. He sold the business and donated much of the proceeds to charity. Then he travelled to India, and set up a home for abandoned children.’

  ‘Is he still there?’ asked Beth.

  ‘No. He died at the age of forty.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ said Beth.

  ‘Indeed it is – but Kevin’s was a brief, glorious life. He was the most generous person I ever knew – always ready to help all kinds of waifs and strays.’

  ‘Reminds me of someone,’ I said, looking at Graham, but he shook his head.

  ‘Kevin was a better man than I could ever hope to be – that’s why I’m so sure he’ll help us. Now let’s—’

  ‘Hang on a sec, Graham,’ I said. ‘Don’t forget, Kevin can’t know the truth about w
ho we are – and how we got here. I know you’re nearly fifty years older than you’re supposed to be, but still, aren’t you afraid he’ll recognise you? Your face has probably changed a small bit, but maybe your voice?’

  Graham smiled. ‘Don’t you worry about that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a plan.’

  * * *

  Graham pushed open the door, and a bell jangled loudly. In the corner there was an old-fashioned record player, playing Hey Jude. (For a second I felt sad – that’s one of my dad’s favourite songs.) A man looked up from sweeping the floor. I blinked as I stared at him and started to wish that I was wearing sunglasses. He was wearing a tight purple polo-necked jumper and flared check trousers. Over the jumper he had a weird leather waistcoat with strings that swayed as he moved. On the waistcoat were loads of badges saying things like ‘peace’ and ‘love’ and ‘flower power.’ Wrapped over and over around the neck of his jumper he had a long string of tiny beads in all kinds of bright colours.

  ‘OMG!’ I whispered. ‘I think that might be one of The Beatles.’

  ‘I’m guessing that’s Kevin?’ whispered Beth.

  ‘That’s him,’ said Graham.

  ‘Customers!’ said Kevin. ‘Three lovely customers. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Och, we’re tourists,’ said Graham in a very bad fake Scottish accent.

  Beth looked at me and rolled her eyes. I tried not to laugh. This was important – if Graham didn’t manage to get money from Kevin, Beth was going to start talking about going for a very, very long walk.

  ‘Dig your groovy threads,’ said Kevin, looking at Beth and me.

  I had no clue what he was trying to say, but Graham laughed. ‘He means he likes your clothes,’ he said.

  I had to laugh. The words were so funny – and Beth and I were still wearing our school uniforms, which are so not cool.

  ‘Er … I like your … er …’ I was trying to be polite, but Kevin’s clothes were so weird, I didn’t know where to start.

  ‘Your beads are lovely,’ said Beth, helping me out.

  Kevin smiled. ‘They’re love beads,’ he said. ‘All the rage in America these days.’

  ‘Love beads,’ I said. ‘That’s a great name. Are you supposed to give them to someone you love?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Kevin. ‘Love beads aren’t just about love. They are also a symbol of peace and friendship. It’s about communing with your fellow man.’

  ‘Love beads,’ sighed Graham. ‘I loved love beads. I wore them around my neck and on both wrists. I gave them to nearly everyone I knew.’

  I smiled. I could easily imagine Graham handing love beads out to random strangers passing him on the street. He wants to be friends with everyone.

  Now Kevin put down his sweeping brush and was looking at Graham’s long hair.

  ‘I could do you a wonderful mop-top, sir,’ he said. ‘And you young ladies, how about a nice beehive hairdo for each of you?’

  I had no idea what a beehive hairdo was and I was fairly sure I didn’t want one.

  ‘Och, you’re very kind, so you are,’ said Graham. ‘But it’s not haircuts we’re after at all, at all, at all.’

  I’m not an expert on accents, but I think his accent had taken a holiday from Scotland and ended up somewhere in Kerry.

  Kevin was looking closely at him. ‘You remind me of someone,’ he said. ‘But I can’t work out who it is.’

  ‘Och, I have a common face, so I do,’ said Graham. ‘The world is full of people who look like me.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Kevin, who didn’t look convinced. ‘Anyway, if you don’t want haircuts, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Graham. ‘I mean, och – myself and these two lovely lassies are visiting from Scotland – and we need to get to our friend’s house in Maynooth – but I’ve lost my wallet – and we were wondering if you have any jobs we can do – to cover the cost of the busfares.’

  That sounded like a very dodgy story to me, not helped by the fact that Graham’s accent sounded like it was going on a grand tour of Europe – but Kevin didn’t seem to notice anything odd.

  ‘You poor things,’ he said. ‘Of course I’ll find something for you to do. Maybe you two girls could man the phone for a while?’

  ‘But we’re only thirteen,’ said Beth. ‘I’m not sure that …’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Kevin, who didn’t seem to notice that Beth didn’t sound like she was from Scotland – or any of the other places Graham’s accent had taken him to. ‘The phone probably won’t ring – it hardly ever hardly does. I’ve only been open for a few months, and I have to say business is very poor. I might have to consider closing down if …’

  ‘But you can’t close down,’ I said, thinking of the twenty hairdressing salons that were in Kevin’s future. ‘Just keep going, and I’m fairly sure things will work out for you.’

  ‘You should listen to Molly,’ said Graham in a weird French accent. ‘It’s uncanny how that girl’s brain works – it’s almost as if she can see right into the future.’

  ‘Let’s hope she’s right this time,’ said Kevin. ‘Anyway, I didn’t catch your name.’

  ‘Oh, I’m Grah––’

  I had to kick him really hard. Kevin already half-recognised him, and if he said his name …

  ‘Grey?’ said Kevin. ‘That’s an unusual name.’

  ‘It’s short for … Grey Wolf,’ said Graham. ‘My parents read a lot of books about Native Americans. My little sister is called Shining Star and my brother …’

  Now Beth kicked him too. Graham was laying it on way too thick, and by now Kevin must have thought the three of us were crazy. Luckily Graham was right though, Kevin was a really nice man. He ignored all our weirdness and acted like it was perfectly normal for a man with a funny accent and two kids to wander into his salon, asking for jobs to make money for a bus-trip.

  ‘I always have so much to do,’ he said. ‘I’m a lucky man that you three angels showed up when you did.’

  * * *

  For the next few hours, Beth and I sat next to the silent phone and looked at magazines full of brightly-coloured ads for weird things we’d never heard of.

  ‘OMG!’ said Beth, after a bit. ‘Look at this, Molly. You can buy a screen to stick on your black and white tv so that it looks like colour.’

  I looked at the picture she was holding in front of me. ‘That’s so lame,’ I said. ‘It’s just a bit of plastic with blue at the top and green at the bottom. Everything on TV will end up looking like a little kid’s drawing. I’m so glad I don’t really live in 1969.’

  ‘Yeah, but you’ve got to admit that some of the jewellery’s kind of cool,’ she said, pointing at a picture of a woman wearing huge diamond-shaped yellow and pink earrings.

  ‘I guess,’ I said. ‘And look at her eyelashes, I love the way they’re so black and spiky – they make her eyes look huuuge.

  ‘Twiggy,’ said Kevin, looking over our shoulders.

  ‘What’s Twiggy,’ I asked. ‘Is that another word Beth and I don’t know because …?’

  Kevin laughed. ‘What planet have you two been living on?’ he asked, pointing at the woman with the crazy earrings. ‘That’s Twiggy – one of the most famous women in the world. She was “the face of 1966”, you know. Actually, with the right haircut, maybe one of you two girls could be the face of 1976.’

  ‘That’s OK, thanks,’ said Beth. ‘But I’m not going to be a model – I’m going to be a software developer.’

  ‘What’s a …?’ began Kevin, but then he stopped himself. ‘I don’t know where exactly you two girls are from, but it must be a million miles away from here.’

  ‘It sort of is,’ said Beth. ‘I guess it sort of is.’

  * * *

  While Beth and I were busy not answering the phone, Graham cleaned out the small room where all the hair-dyes and shampoos were stored, and lined up all the bottles in alphabetical order.

  After a while a customer came in, and
Kevin welcomed her like she was a princess or something

  ‘Give me an hour and I will have you looking like a film-star,’ he said.

  The woman started with beautiful, shiny hair, and when Kevin was finished, it was all puffed up like an ugly, furry football was stuck on her head. He held the mirror so she could see the back of her hair.

  ‘What do you think of my creation?’ he said.

  ‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ said the woman as she put her hands over her face. ‘You’ve made me look like Dusty Springfield.’

  ‘Poor Dusty Springfield – whoever that is,’ whispered Beth. ‘She’s got a strange name and I’m guessing she’s got totally strange hair too.’

  ‘OMG!’ I whispered back. ‘No wonder the poor woman’s crying. I’d totally die if I had to go out into the street looking like that.’

  But then the woman jumped up from her seat and hugged Kevin and I could see that she hadn’t been crying at all.

  ‘I LOVE what you’ve done to my hair,’ she said. ‘This is the best day of my life. I’m going to tell all my friends to come here.’

  ‘Weird,’ whispered Beth. ‘The 1960’s are so, so weird.’

  Next a man came in for a haircut and a shave. Kevin worked for ages, and then he stepped back, ‘Ta-da,’ he said. ‘I think this is some of my best work. What do you think, everyone?’

  ‘I think maybe Kevin needs glasses,’ whispered Beth to me.

  ‘Agreed,’ I whispered back. ‘He completely forgot to shave those clumps of hair on the side of the man’s face. I get sideburns and everything, but this poor guy looks like he’s got two fat black caterpillars crawling out of his ears.’

  ‘They’re having a race, to see who can get to his chin first,’ said Beth.

  ‘How’s Kevin ever going to make his business work if he does stupid things like that?’

  ‘You’re right. If he goes on like this we won’t make it to the end of his first year. You’ll have to tell him, Moll.’

  ‘Me! Why me?’

  But suddenly Beth was very busy looking at the magazines, and Graham was still out the back. The customer was turning his head from side to side, like he couldn’t make out what had happened. If I didn’t say it, no one was saying it.