Mattie found the first entry in the diary and read:
Saturday, 7 January 1956
Am on a train heading to London. Can’t remember ever being this excited about anything before, even Christmas. Father very proud when he waved me off at the station. ‘You’ll come back a man,’ he said. Here’s hoping.
Have written to Bill Godfrey with new address, asking the old hand at London living to take pity on this poor country lad. Hopeful he’ll respond – we always got on so well when we were younger. I will make friends. I always do. Captain Chummy strikes the Capital!
Can’t wait to get started. Watch out, London – Joe Bell is on his way!
Mattie traced her finger over the confident pencil strokes, feeling a rush of love for the young man about to embark on his dream.
‘Hello, Joe Bell of 1956,’ she said, her throat tight with approaching tears. ‘You and I are going on a journey together.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘It’s Just a Matter of Time’ – Brook Benton
An alarm call at four a.m. brought Mattie from the little sleep she’d managed to steal during the night. But she felt alive – buzzing with what lay ahead. Pulling on a hoodie to ward off the early chill, she scrambled her remaining things together and headed outside to where Rusty had been languishing under an old blue-and-white-checked travel rug to ward off the worst of the early autumnal frost.
Climbing inside, she inhaled Rusty’s unique aroma – old leather, Flash liquid and biscuit crumbs. She could see her breath illuminated by the light from the porch of her house, the windows beginning to fog from her body heat. Pulling a torch from under the pack-away sink, she consulted her checklist, methodically marking off each item. There would be opportunities to buy anything she missed on the journey, but she wanted to check everything now, before the demands of the schedule took over.
Stowing her boots, extra layers and jacket behind the back seat, she took Grandpa Joe’s 1956 diary from a side pocket in her well-packed holdall and moved it to her handbag. He could ride metaphorically in the front seat with her and Reenie. Grandpa Joe had considered himself one of life’s front-seat passengers – always at the sharp end of everything, wanting to lead rather than be led. On the few occasions he’d travelled in Rusty for family holidays, the front seat had been his natural choice. He admired the raised view from the front of the van, falling into comfortable quietness as Mattie drove him through Shropshire and over the border to Wales. She thought now about the border-crossing the Silver Five road trip would make soon – her first foray into Wales since she and Grandpa Joe had stopped talking. She’d always had such happy memories of Bell clan gatherings in Barmouth, Criccieth and Harlech over the years, but the prospect of being in Wales without any of her family made her sad. She shook the thought away. This was going to be amazing.
Confident everything was in order, she clambered back out of Rusty and tiptoed back into the house. The brief return of heat flushed her cheeks and she caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror. What she noticed was a bright sheen of hope in her brown eyes, something she hadn’t seen for many months. Maybe the future beyond the road trip and resulting reunion would see her hope fixed permanently. Even now, with all the excitement and challenge lying in wait, Mattie found herself looking forward to discovering what her world would look like at the end. She remembered one last thing: going upstairs to her bedroom, she took Grandpa Joe’s silver sixpence tiepin from its home on her bedside table and pinned it to her hoodie as she returned downstairs to the hall. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at her reflection a final time, then turned off the lights and locked the front door.
The morning had still to begin, a ghosting of dawn mist guarding the surrounding fields as Mattie escorted Reenie across Beauvale’s gravel drive to the waiting vehicle.
‘That’s it?’ Reenie said, pausing to stare at Rusty. ‘That’s our tour bus?’
‘Not exactly a tour bus,’ Mattie smiled. ‘But an excellent travelling companion.’
‘No wonder you’ve insisted on booking taxis when you’ve taken me out before. I hope that thing’s got a heated rear windscreen to keep our hands warm while we’re pushing it.’ Reenie clicked her dentures as she climbed shakily into the passenger seat. ‘Good job I took care of the accommodation. You’d have me kipping in a yurt, judging by this hippymobile.’
‘Trust me, it’s very comfortable.’ Mattie closed the door, wishing she wasn’t quite so skilled at lip-reading as Reenie flipped her pashmina over her shoulder and said exactly what she thought.
‘I do hope you know what you’re doing.’ Gaynor arrived by Mattie’s side. ‘Miss Silver isn’t an ideal passenger.’
Mattie was getting that sense already. Could she really endure Reenie’s sharp opinions for ten days? ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, the firmness of her resolve more forced than instinctive. It has to be fine. We’ve come this far . . . ‘Honestly, Gaynor, don’t worry. Reenie wants to make this trip as much as I do.’
Gaynor didn’t smile. ‘You have her medication? And the schedule for it all?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you understand that a lady of her age and medical challenges will require more comfort breaks than you will? Don’t smile, Mattie, this is a major consideration.’
‘It’s all worked into our itinerary. And we can accommodate any unexpected issues, too.’
Gaynor sighed. ‘I shouldn’t be letting you go. It’s highly irresponsible of me. I lied to my boss, for heaven’s sake! He thinks she’s visiting her niece in Weston-super-Mare for a fortnight, taking it easy. If Dr Lancaster finds out where she’s really gone, I can kiss my career goodbye.’
‘Gaynor, this is really important. It isn’t a daft whim.’ Seeing her charge impatiently tapping her wrist through the passenger-door window, she pressed on. ‘I realise she isn’t easy. Please believe me, I know what I’m letting myself in for. But I believe in this trip and what it’s trying to achieve.’
‘You’re making it sound romantic.’
‘It is romantic, isn’t it?’
Kicking the gravel with a platform toe, Gaynor nodded. ‘So go. Before I think better of it.’
They had arranged to meet Gil at Shrewsbury station, half an hour’s drive away from Kings Sunbury through the most glorious Shropshire countryside. The first pinking of dawn was illuminating the horizon beyond rolling fields, throwing the trees lining the tops of gentle hills into dark silhouette. Mattie loved this time of day, but this morning her mind was too packed with considerations and plans for what lay ahead to fully appreciate the beauty surrounding them.
‘I still say he didn’t need to come,’ Reenie said, as the camper van pulled into the station car park.
‘He’s right, Reenie. Our case will be a lot stronger if we have the promoter with us. Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s going to be fun.’
‘It’d be more fun if he left us to it,’ Reenie muttered, staring out of the window.
In only thirty minutes Reenie had proved just how difficult she could be, and Mattie was relieved to leave her in Rusty as she walked over to the station. It’s early days, she assured herself, we’re both still getting used to each other. She could imagine Jack’s face, though. He’d have jumped out of the van mid-journey like something out of a Bond film by now, if he’d had to put up with Reenie’s constant complaints.
I have to keep focused on the end goal, she told herself as she waited on the platform. Ten days wasn’t a long time, in the grand scheme of things. She could survive ten days if it meant her heart was finally at peace. Anything was better than living life with regret.
Eight minutes late, the train slowly pulled into the station, and Mattie scanned the faces of the alighting passengers to find Gil. He wasn’t hard to spot, standing a good half a foot taller than his fellow travellers. He carried a large leather weekend bag on one shoulder with a folded grey jacket tucked between the handles and was casually dressed in an olive-green jumper over a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans and grey
trainers. His blond hair was wavier than she remembered, but the knotted seriousness of his expression was the same. Even as he approached he appeared to be thinking better of it, a slight shake of his head revealing more of his thoughts than he intended.
When he raised his head, Mattie waved back, rewarded by the lightest of smiles.
‘Here I am,’ he said, and for a moment Mattie thought he was going to kiss her cheek. He didn’t, the lack of any action making their greeting awkward.
‘Here you are. Ready for a road trip?’
‘I guess I am. Are you?’
It was a relief to see him as uncertain as she felt. ‘I think so. It’s really special, what we’re doing, you know.’
‘You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.’
They had started to walk towards the car park, Gil bumbling a little in letting Mattie go through the door first. She considered attempting a joke, but very quickly dismissed the idea. She didn’t know him well enough to know what might be appropriate. Why did she suddenly feel so awkward around him?
‘So – there’s my van.’
‘Really? That’s our ride?’
Excellent. Trust the only thing to bring a smile to Gil’s face to be mockery of Mattie’s vehicle. She’d endured enough moaning from Reenie already.
‘Yes, really. Problem?’
‘Won’t be a problem for me, but I expect it is for you. How old is that thing?’
‘Fifty-two years.’ If Mattie could have hugged Rusty at that moment, she would have. ‘He’s served me well for ten of them. And he has a clean bill of health from my mechanic, as a matter of fact.’
Gil chuckled. ‘He?’
‘She talks to this rust-bucket.’ Reenie had wound down the passenger window and was leaning out like a super-glamorous trucker. ‘It even has a name.’
‘Wow. Do people do that?’
‘Some people do. I do. Rusty is my faithful friend.’
‘Rusty? Oh, this is too good . . .’
‘Rusty is the word,’ Reenie grinned. ‘Nice to see you, Gil.’
‘You too, Miss Silver.’
Still smarting from her passengers’ bonding over their dislike of her camper van, Mattie stared at them both. ‘Rusty and I have been through a lot together.’
‘Roadside rescues, towing, mechanical failure . . .’ They were laughing now as Gil slid open the side door, threw his bag onto the back seat and climbed in.
Mattie walked around the front of the van and gave its headlamp a surreptitious pat. She loved Rusty, regardless of what anyone else thought. She’d bought him after finishing university, fulfilling an ambition from her early teens to own a classic VW camper van. In truth, he’d seen better days and, she suspected, worse owners, but Mattie loved him as much as anyone can love a cantankerous vintage automobile that costs a fortune to run.
‘Right. Is everyone ready?’ she asked, settling into the driver’s seat and adjusting the satnav she’d bought under duress after Jack insisted it was safer than printing off reams of internet route-planner directions for the epic journey ahead.
‘As we’ll ever be.’ Reenie winked at Gil in the sun-visor mirror as she reapplied her lipstick. ‘Let’s go!’
Chapter Fifteen
‘My Feet Hit the Ground’ – Cliff Richard
One thing very quickly became clear about Mattie’s passengers: they were as different as it was possible to be. Reenie filled every available moment with chatter, her stories and anecdotes peppered with judgements on just about everything she saw, from place names on motorway signs to the dress of other road users in the surrounding lanes as they made steady progress up the M1 towards Northumberland. Gil, meanwhile, sat in silence behind them, an amiable statue that occasionally broke his stillness to drink from a bottle of water. Arms folded, head slightly turned, his eyes impassively tracked the passing landscape through the camper van windows.
Both of her passengers unnerved Mattie. She hadn’t been naive enough to expect a relaxing journey, but trying to keep both of them happy was proving an extra burden. After unsuccessfully trying to engage Gil in conversation (while holding back the crushing tide of Reenie’s verbal flow) for the first few hours of their journey, she gave up and retreated into the familiar rumble of Rusty’s engine. Putting on the radio only served to set Reenie off on a tirade against ‘dreadful things that pass as music nowadays’; switching to a CD of 1950s hits she had brought from her shop prompted rolled eyes from Gil in the rear-view mirror and even more dubious reminiscences from Reenie.
Catching sight of her reflection, Mattie finally understood the strange, glazed expression she’d seen on her teachers during school trips. She felt as if she was holding back two powerful forces of nature while still having to concentrate on driving. As an exercise in multitasking it was nothing short of epic – and thoroughly exhausting. Her level of respect rose considerably for her sister, who had regularly spent summer holidays corralling two warring children during long drives to France. How did anyone do this and remain sane?
Eventually, Mattie resorted to James Taylor’s October Road album because it was her favourite. If anyone challenged her, she decided, she would claim driver’s prerogative. Thankfully, nobody did, Reenie nodding appreciatively until she started to snooze and Gil visibly relaxing as soon as the old lady was asleep. Congratulating herself on having successfully navigated the first hurdle of the road trip, Mattie settled into her seat and let the soothing music carry her along.
They made a stop at Tibshelf services on the M1 for supplies and coffee. Mattie welcomed the break to stretch out the knots from her shoulders as Gil headed to the motorway service station’s coffee shop to order. Meanwhile, Reenie disappeared for ‘a breath of fresh air’ which, judging by the smell attached to her clothes when she joined them later, also contained large amounts of nicotine.
‘So how’re you liking it so far, sunshine?’ Reenie grinned up at Gil, who was drinking a huge black coffee with surprising speed.
‘It’s the adventure of a lifetime,’ he replied flatly.
‘Well, if you think this is exciting, wait till you hear about my many, many years on the cruise ships . . .’
‘It’s good to have you with us,’ Mattie’s interruption was firm. It was fine for Reenie to have her joke, but not if it jeopardised Gil’s involvement in the reunion. ‘Both of you.’
‘Yes, it is. Forgive me, Gil. Your grandad would have been very proud of you, doing this trip and arranging the gig. He would’ve liked that.’
Gil looked up from his coffee cup, and for a moment a glimmer of respect passed between Mattie’s fellow travellers. ‘Thanks.’
‘Don’t mention it.’ The slightest wink from Reenie made Mattie brace herself. ‘Although you’ll likely be joining the old fella soon, if you carry on drinking coffee like that. My second husband necked his smokey Joe all day, every day, and he was dead by the age of forty-five.’
‘Is this what it’s going to be like for the whole trip?’ Gil addressed his question to Mattie with a smile, as though she was in charge of the elderly lady. Like that was even possible . . .
‘You wanted to come,’ Reenie was unrepentant. ‘This is the deal, sonny.’
Fearing the trip was already descending into bedlam before it had properly begun, Mattie put down her coffee mug. ‘No, Reenie, the deal is that the concert won’t happen without Gil. It’s great that he’s with us. So show him some respect. And Gil, a thousand miles is going to feel very long and tiresome very quickly if you don’t join in. I am not prepared to chauffeur World War Three in my van. Understood?’
‘Your van’s more likely to be Armageddon than carry it,’ Reenie muttered, as Gil laughed.
It wasn’t an ideal subject to bond over, but Mattie concluded it was better they find common ground mocking her camper van than be at odds with one another for the entire journey.
She left the pair of them milling around WHSmith and headed back outside, giving Rusty a sympathetic pat when she reac
hed his parking space. ‘Don’t listen to them,’ she whispered. ‘You’re a superhero in my eyes.’ Taking the opportunity of five minutes to herself, she brought out Grandpa Joe’s diary from its safe place in her bag and turned to the next entry.
Saturday, 21 January 1956
Made my first visit to a London nightclub with Bill tonight. Mother would be horrified. Great night, music from the best bands and plenty of pretty girls happy to dance. I think I might be made for the London life after all . . .
Chaps at the office are good sports. I’ve taken to joining them after work for a pint at the Duke of Northumberland pub just around the corner from the office. Last week I met Len, a lad my age, originally from Leeds. We’ve become really quite good friends. I like him. We disagree on football but he laughs at my jokes – a good sign! Len reckons the best place to dance is the Palm Grove in Soho, but getting in can be tricky. His sister works there sometimes as a dancer, apparently, so hoping she’ll stump us tickets sometime soon. Would be good to see it. Tommy Steele and the Steelmen are playing next Saturday night. Fingers crossed!
Mattie smiled at young Joe’s enthusiasm. She remembered her grandfather being horrified at Tommy Steele becoming a song-and-dance entertainer, refusing to watch Finian’s Rainbow at Christmas even though it was Grandma’s favourite musical film. ‘He was a rock ’n’ roller,’ he’d protest, changing the channel in disgust. ‘I don’t want to see him prancing about as a leprechaun.’
It amused Mattie and Jack that Grandpa could so easily forgive Elvis for Blue Hawaii and Cliff for Summer Holiday, but couldn’t get over Tommy Steele with a dodgy ‘Oirish’ accent in Finian’s Rainbow. But Grandpa Joe was often like that: a walking contradiction when it suited him.
Seeing Gil and Reenie weaving through the parked cars towards her, Mattie quickly pocketed the diary. It felt good to keep it as her secret. Driving back on the motorway in a decidedly calmer atmosphere than before, she smiled as the carriageway opened up before her. It was as if tiny fragments of Grandpa Joe were beginning to return to her with his new words, painstakingly restoring the picture she’d felt she’d lost since their falling-out.
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