'Til I Kissed You

by Pam Howes

  (‘TIL) I KISSED YOU

  By

  PAM HOWES

  ***

  Published By

  YOU WRITE ON

  (‘Til) I Kissed You

  Copyright © 2010 by Pam Howes

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction

  DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY

  OF

  SUSAN FRANCIS HOOPER

  (‘TIL) I KISSED YOU

  CHAPTER ONE

  ASHLEA VILLAGE, CHESHIRE. APRIL 1984

  ‘Nick, where are you?’

  Silence.

  ‘Nick, for God’s sake stop pissing around.’

  The corridor was dark, long and narrow. She could smell him. Cigarette smoke and leather. Why wouldn’t he answer? She crept down the corridor, one hand against the wall the other outstretched. She could hear him breathing now.

  ‘Nick, you’re scaring me. I don’t like this game.’ Then she was falling and Nick was shouting.

  ‘Hold on tight, Jess.’

  Down, down, down like Alice in the rabbit hole, and then thump.

  Her eyes flew open and she let out a sharp breath. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ She was in her bed – alone, drenched with sweat and tangled up in the duvet. That bloody dream, again. How many times was that now? What was it all about? She dashed a trembling hand across her face. Tears. She’d been crying in her sleep.

  Was she going nuts? Was it the spliff she and Nick shared last night? Surely not? Nick’s mate wouldn’t sell them dodgy gear and anyway, she’d had the dream before.

  She looked at her bedside clock. 7:30. ‘Shit!’ The Cantellos were picking her up at 8:00. She’d never be ready at this rate. She leapt out of bed and hurried into the en-suite. Still shaking, she turned on the shower and stepped in. The soothing hot water relaxed her and she remembered last night’s date with Nick, when his eager hands and lips had had the opposite effect.

  She grabbed a towel, wrapped it around her middle and sat in front of the dressing table mirror to dry her hair. She rubbed the dark circles under her eyes; she must start going to bed earlier, but then there was the bloody dream. Nick laughed the first time she told him about it. Said she had an overactive imagination. She hadn’t told him the next time.

  She dragged a brush through her long hair, blasted it with the dryer, then slapped blusher on her cheeks and rimmed her eyes with kohl. Her half-packed case was by the bed. She threw in her toilet bag and a packet of contraceptive pills, pulled on jeans and a tight white T-shirt, pushed her feet into Doc Marten’s and clomped downstairs.

  ***

  Sammy Cantello checked her watch: they were going to be late picking up Jess. She called up the stairs, ‘Roy, for the last time, get a move on – and give Nick and Jason a knock. It’s after seven. We promised Jess we’d pick her up at eight.’ Sammy hurried back into the kitchen, poured a mug of coffee and loaded the toaster. Her boys were hopeless at getting up and her husband was even worse. She’d packed for them. All they had to do was shower and dress.

  They’d been roped in to help clear out the house in Brighton that their friends Eddie and Jane Mellor had recently inherited from Eddie’s Aunt Celia, but unless they got a move on, the first day would be wasted.

  Clad in boxer shorts, dark hair glistening from the shower, Roy walked barefoot into the kitchen and bent to kiss the top of his wife’s head. ‘Morning, Sam.’

  ‘About time, too. Sit down and I’ll pour you a coffee. Any sign of the boys?’

  ‘They’re styling their hair. Give ‘em half an hour. Nick’s bog-eyed after his late night. I guess he was out with Jess?’

  ‘You guess right.’ She handed him a mug. ‘Help yourself to toast. It’s probably cold now.’

  ‘I’ll do without. Pass me a fag, love.’

  ‘Those boys take longer than I do over their hair.’ She handed Roy his cigarettes. ‘The bags are in the hall. Will you load the car when you’ve finished, please?’

  ‘I’ll have to put the roof-rack on.’ He lit up, took a lengthy drag and coughed. ‘I really must give up.’

  ‘You say that every morning.’

  He took another long drag. ‘I need to take the keyboard and guitars. Ed’s taken a couple of amps and Jess’s bass with him.’

  ‘Are you and Ed planning on doing some serious work then, or just jamming?’ Sammy wiped up toast crumbs from the worktop and tossed the cloth into the sink.

  ‘Both, if we’ve time. We’ve a couple of new songs to run through while we’ve got the kids under one roof.’

  ‘You alright, Roy?’ Sammy asked as his dark eyes narrowed and he stared out of the window. ‘You look miles away.’

  ‘Yeah – just thinking. Shame Livvy Grant’s not coming with us. One of the songs is a real rocker and I wrote it with her in mind. It needs a stronger voice than Jess’s.

  ‘You won’t stand a chance if you say that to Jess. She doesn’t want Livvy in The Zoo. She thinks the girl fancies Nick.’

  ‘Nah, she doesn’t – does she? Fancy Nick I mean?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I heard Jess having a go at him last week for being over friendly.’

  Roy stubbed out his cigarette and went to stand beside Sammy. He gazed into her eyes and kissed her. ‘I fancy you, Mrs C.’

  ‘Do you now?’

  ‘You can feel I do. How about a quickie while the lads have their breakfast?’

  ‘Roy, for God’s sake, do you ever think about anything else? Get dressed.’

  Nick and Jason appeared; both yawning, dark hair blown and gelled to perfection.

  ‘Grab some toast,’ Sammy said. ‘Then you can help Dad load the car. Get the roof-rack out of the garage.’ She was conscious of Roy hiding behind her, hands strategically placed over his boxer shorts.

  ‘That was a bit too close for comfort,’ he muttered as the boys headed for the door.

  ‘Serves you right for walking around half-naked. Now get ready and load the car.’

  ‘One kiss and I will.’

  ‘Roy, it never stops at one kiss with you.’ She pulled away. ‘Go, now, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

  ‘Tonight then, promise?’

  ‘If I’m not too tired.’ She jumped as the phone rang.

  Roy grabbed the receiver and pressed her against the cupboard. His free hand caressed her back through her linen shirt. ‘Roy Cantello. – Ah, the lovely Mrs Mellor. And how are you this fine morning? – Good. Just a mo.’

  ‘Jane.’ He handed Sammy the phone.

  ‘Hi, Jane. Saved by the bell,’ Sammy said as Roy left the kitchen.

  ‘What bell?’

  ‘The phone. Roy’s like a tom on the tiles, as usual, while I’m getting more and more agitated – as usual! Your timing is perfect.’

  ‘Put him off his stride, did I? Not that much ever does. I’ve forgotten my locket. Can you get it when you pick up Jess, please? I’ve tried calling her but there’s no answer. She must be in the shower.’

  ‘Of course, anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s it. It’s in my jewellery box. Thanks, Sam, see you in a few hours. Safe journey.’

  ‘Thank you, see you soon.’

  ***

  Roy glanced out of the bedroom window and shook his head as he watched Nick and Jason struggling with the roof-rack. He opened the window and yelled, ‘Leave it – you’ll scratch the bloody car! I’ll be down in a minute.’ He checked his hair in the mirror and winked at his reflection. ‘Not bad for forty-two, Cantello.’ He picked up his leather jacket and car keys.

  Hand on the doorknob, he paused for a minute. Sammy’s earlier comment about Livvy Grant fancying Nick bothered him and he wondered why. Roy wanted her in The Zoo. Her voice
had a strength the band needed. Not only that, she was a good-looking kid, didn’t give lip and he liked having her around. He’d have to call a serious band meeting next week. There had to be a way of persuading Jess that it would be a very sound move to have Livvy on board.

  ***

  Jane smiled as she dropped the receiver back onto the cradle. In the lounge her husband Eddie was reading the Daily Mail and her stepson Jon, fiddling with a portable cassette recorder, trying to retrieve a jammed tape.

  ‘I called Sammy,’ Jane said. ‘Roy’s giving her no peace. He never changes.’

  Eddie folded his newspaper and laughed. ‘Don’t suppose he ever will now.’

  ‘Want a ciggie, Dad?’ Jon held out a packet of Silk Cut.

  ‘I’ll have one later, son.’

  Jon plonked his feet on the coffee table, lit up and blew a perfect smoke ring.

  ‘Don’t get too comfy,’ Jane smacked his feet down. ‘So, what’s the plan of action for today?’

  ‘Well first off, me and Jon will go to the solicitor’s to sort out Celia’s will,’ Eddie said.

  ‘Okay.’ Jane nodded. ‘I’ll have a wander around The Lanes; see if the bric-a-brac shops will be interested in any of the furniture and stuff.’

  ‘I’ll be sorry to see it go,’ Eddie started to say, but something caused his voice to crack. Jane stepped in.

  ‘End of an era, love, isn’t it? I’m sure it will all find a nice home. Right, I’ll have a tidy round and get the rooms ready. The boys can have camp-beds in with you, Jon. Jess can sleep in the attic. While you’re out you can pick up some groceries for tonight. I’ll write a list.’

  ‘I’ll cook,’ Eddie said. ‘I’ll do Beef in Beer. Roy loves that.’

  ‘So do I.’ Jon was fiddling with the cassette recorder again. ‘Especially when you cook it and not Mum.’

  ‘Thanks very much, Jon. I’ll remember that the next time your father’s in London and you have to eat my burnt offerings, which, incidentally, you never refuse – or leave.’

  ‘Even your burnt offerings are preferable to starving, Mum. Dad just happens to be the better cook, that’s all.’

  ‘Pity he didn’t realise that years ago,’ she said, only half joking.

  ***

  Sammy knocked on the door of Hanover’s Lodge. Jess answered, looking bleary-eyed.

  ‘Morning, Jess. You look tired. Not had much sleep?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Jess said, smiling.

  ‘Well, if you’re ready, put your case in the boot. Your mum forgot her locket. I’ll nip upstairs and get it.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  ‘It’s okay, love. You get yourself settled in the car. I’ll lock up as I leave.’

  As Sammy climbed the familiar staircase a million memories flashed through her mind. She passed Jess’s bedroom door. The room had been hers and Roy’s when they’d all lived together during the sixties, and Eddie and Roy had been members of chart topping group The Raiders. She opened the door next to Jess’s room and peered in. The music room – walls adorned with souvenirs of the group’s heyday. Awards, framed photographs and gold discs. A corner of the room had doubled as her studio when she’d started her own fashion design business. She smiled as she closed the door and walked along the landing to Jane and Eddie’s bedroom.

  She found the locket, dropped it into her bag and hurried out to the car. Roy slumped in the front passenger seat, his earlier friskiness gone. Jess was sitting between Nick and Jason, Nick’s hand resting possessively on her knee.

  ‘Alright now, Jess?’ Sammy climbed in.

  ‘She’s fine, Mum,’ Nick answered for her.

  ‘Right then. We’ll stop at the services in a couple of hours.’

  She started up the engine of the sleek BMW saloon and drove down the rutted, private lane towards the main road.

  Jess chatted non-stop. She was very much her mother’s daughter in that respect, whilst Nick, nodding and grunting only when he had to, was very much his father’s son first thing in the morning.

  Roy glanced at Sammy with pleading eyes that said, “Can’t you shut her up?” Sammy smiled. She enjoyed Jess’s chatter.

  ‘Did you have a good time last night, Jess?’

  ‘We did, thanks, Sammy.’

  Sammy looked in the rear-view mirror. She saw Jess squeeze Nick’s hand and he winked at her.

  ‘Go anywhere nice?’ Roy asked.

  ‘Pub in Didsbury with some mates,’ Nick replied.

  ‘So, they’ve started all night opening in Didsbury, have they?’

  ‘Roy, stop it. You’re embarrassing them.’ In the rear-view Sammy saw Jess’s cheeks flush.

  ‘Sorry, kids, just envious. I wish I were your age again. Don’t you, Sam?’

  ‘Sometimes, but knowing what I know now.’

  ***

  Jon dashed upstairs to get changed. Make an effort for seeing the solicitor, he thought. While he dressed he mulled over what he would spend his inheritance money on. A new car maybe, depending on how much Great Aunt Celia had left him. Jess had already spent hers a million times over in her head. He slapped on the cologne she’d given him for Christmas. She’d told him she loved the musky scent on him.

  He felt a twitch as he thought about her then immediately felt guilty. She was beautiful and he ached to grab hold of her and drag her off to bed. He shouldn’t be having such thoughts about his sister, even though they only shared the same dad. It’s not right, he told himself, but the feelings had started soon after she began dating his mate Nick Cantello, and he couldn’t seem to stop them. Nick was a lucky bastard and nowhere near good enough for his little sis.

  He grimaced at his reflection and ran his hands through his thick, dark curls. In the mirror he didn’t see his own green eyes, but the alluring blue of Jess’s. Eyes you could fall into; eyes that you could fall in love with. ‘Get over it, Jon,’ he muttered. ‘It ain’t gonna happen.’

  ***

  Jane called her mother to enquire after her and Eddie’s younger children, Katie and Dominic, and Lennon the dog.

  ‘They’re fine, Jane,’ her mum reassured her. ‘We’re enjoying having them to stay. Have a nice holiday. See you soon.’

  ‘Hardly a holiday, Mum,’ Jane muttered as she wandered from room to room. ‘There’s so much to do.’ Aunt Celia’s Victorian home was packed with stuff. She looked at the array of ornaments, wondering why anyone could possibly want so many glass brandy balloons. They were on every surface, in every colour imaginable.

  Apart from the glass collection there were many family photographs. Eddie’s late parents, Dad, smart in military dress, and Mum, smiling up at him with large dewy eyes, a little fox-fur round her neck.

  Photos of a very young Eddie, neat in his school uniform with no hint of the leather-jacketed rebel to come. Jane ran her fingers over his face, and lovingly traced the dimple in his chin, leaving a trail through the dust on the glass.

  She flopped down on the sofa next to the old radiogram and smiled as memories of her 1964 Bank Holiday trip to Brighton flooded back. It was the same sofa she’d sat on with Eddie, Roy and Sammy, smoking her first joint, whilst the Mods and Rockers riots raged on outside. She shook her head, thinking how her trusting Mum would have had a holy fit if she’d known half of what her daughter got up to once she became involved with The Raiders.

  ***

  Jess leapt out of the car and rang the bell. ‘Hi, Mum,’ she said as Jane threw open the door.

  ‘Hello, darling.’ Jane hugged her daughter. ‘It’s good to see you all. You did well for time.’

  ‘We did,’ Jess agreed as Jane stepped aside to let them in.

  Roy and the boys carried the bags. They dumped them in the hall and followed Jane into the lounge where Eddie was sitting on the sofa. He jumped up to greet them.

  ‘Blimey, it’s exactly the same.’ Sammy’s gaze swept the room. Celia’s house was a time warp, decorated in shades of orange, purple and brown. ‘God, this takes me back a fe
w years.’

  ‘Twenty to be precise.’ Roy stood behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. ‘It’s a shame to sell it, Ed. It’s like a sixties museum.’

  ‘It’s in need of a major refurb,’ Eddie replied. ‘I haven’t the time to be dealing with it. Right, grab some wineglasses, Jane.’ He uncorked a bottle of red. ‘Let’s have a drink before dinner. It’s nice to be here again, even though we’ve got the kids under our feet this time.’

  ‘Cramping your style, are we?’ Jon walked into the room and gave Jess a hug.

  ‘Son, believe me, you always did.’

  ‘We’ll leave you in peace after dinner,’ Jess said as Jon winked at her. ‘I fancy a dance.’ She wiggled her slender hips at the boys. ‘There’ll be good clubs in town.’

  ***

  ‘Bring another bottle of wine through, Jane,’ Eddie called as he and Roy tuned up the guitars in the lounge.

  ‘Yes, your Lordship,’ Jane laughed and topped up the glasses. She sat down on the sofa next to Sammy.

  Jess sauntered into the room, her black leather jeans and white cropped top, fitting where they touched.

  ‘For God’s sake, Jess,’ Jane began. ‘That top leaves nothing to the imagination and those jeans look as though they’re cutting you in two.’

  ‘Mum, quit criticising. I bet Gran never gave you a hard time about what you wore when you went out. Anyway, Nick likes my tight pants.’

  ‘I bet he bloody does,’ Jane said. ‘And believe me, your Gran always gave me a hard time about my short skirts, you ask your dad.’

  Eddie caught his breath as Jess flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulders and planted herself in front of him. She was the image of Jane at eighteen, except for her eyes. Jess’s were blue as forget-me-nots and Jane’s brown and soulful.

  ‘Yes, Jess, what can I do for you?’

  ‘Daddy,’ she wheedled, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

  ‘Can I borrow some money?’ he finished.

  ‘How did you know I was gonna ask that?’

  ‘Because you usually kiss me when you want something: and it’s either my money or my car keys. Am I right, or am I right?’