Searching for a Silver Lining

by Miranda Dickinson

  Mattie glanced at Reenie, who pulled a face. ‘Hugo? She called her kid Hugo? Well, I’m not surprised. I heard her second husband was a lord, or something.’

  ‘Let’s just – play nicely,’ Mattie replied, wincing a little. How many things could she say like her mother today?

  Joanna had been highly amused by Mattie’s transformation in Reenie’s presence. ‘You’re just being protective,’ she’d said last night when Mattie called her. ‘And by the sound of it, she’s eighty-four going on sixteen. I don’t know how you’re handling her.’

  ‘She’s just scared. Only for Reenie being frightened comes out as laying siege to local karaoke nights and ribbing Gil.’

  ‘How is the man himself?’

  Mattie considered the question now as she followed Gil’s tall frame into a stunning octagonal conservatory overlooking an expanse of perfectly cut lawns framed by blood-red maple trees and elegant weeping willows. She’d had a glimpse of a different man in the Cambridge café yesterday and she was still piecing together a clear picture of who he really was.

  The link with her life back home boosted Mattie’s spirits. She had been excited to set off on the trip with Reenie, but her new-found sense of family in her rented house was a pull on her heart she hadn’t expected. How were Ethan and Ava coping with being away from home and away from their father? Were they missing their aunt?

  ‘You worry too much,’ her sister had scolded gently, but there was warmth in her laughter that meant the world to Mattie. ‘The kids are okay. We’re working through the yucky stuff when it happens and enjoying the bits where we feel more like normal. They love the house – and Ava’s taken to reading in that old wicker armchair in your room. She calls it her “happy chair”. We’re getting there, M. And we love you.’ Joanna had then assured her that all at Bell Be-Bop was running smoothly and that Jack had managed to pop by most days. Mattie wasn’t concerned about the shop, but it all helped to hear of life continuing in her absence when so much of this road trip felt likely to change at any moment.

  Gil turned back. ‘Have you seen her? I can’t believe she’s older than Reenie.’ He gave a surreptitious nod towards the French doors.

  There was June Knight, reclined at an elegant angle across a velvet chaise. She could have sashayed straight out of the pages of Vogue, a star in her twilight years blessed with phenomenal bone structure and dewy-fresh skin. Swathed in a camel-coloured pashmina over a crisp white shirt, three-quarter-length white denim crops and dainty cream ballerina pumps, her hair, once honey-blonde, now fell around her shoulders in elegant, pure white waves. Simple pearl earrings and a double string of pearls around her neck all contrived to give her the appearance of a mythical mermaid, beautifully beached on a bed of mink-hued velvet.

  ‘Bleedin’ Queen Bee,’ Reenie muttered as Mattie nudged her elbow.

  ‘So, where is she?’ June asked, her voice a lilting song of benevolence.

  Reenie stepped forward, professional smile on full brilliant show, holding out both arms. ‘June Knight, as I live and breathe!’

  They didn’t move towards one another, but maintained the poses of welcome as if waiting for the gathered onlookers to slowly push them together into an embrace.

  ‘Can it really have been sixty years?’ June asked.

  ‘Neither of us looks old enough,’ Reenie replied, adopting a theatrical accent somewhere between Celia Johnson and Cilla Black.

  ‘You’ll forgive me, darling Reenie, for not getting up? I had an operation on my knee four weeks ago and I’ve been given strict instructions not to make any unnecessary movements.’ Her dark eyes dipped on the word, as if dismissing Reenie.

  Mattie saw Reenie’s shoulders tense.

  ‘It’s so wonderful to see you back together,’ she rushed, nodding too enthusiastically at Hugo, who followed suit. The air in the conservatory seemed to crackle as everyone watched the two former friends.

  While their smiles were steady, Mattie was suddenly aware of her nerves standing to attention. She looked over at Gil, who was a short distance away, his arms folded.

  It’s going to be okay, she told herself. They’re getting on well. You’re just being paranoid.

  ‘June, I understand. At your age you really should be taking it easy.’

  June smiled again, the muscles in her cheeks flexing. ‘Oh, I know. But the work keeps coming in, so what am I to do? I never expected to be popular in my later years. Gracious me, where are my manners? Sit, please, all of you. Hugo, darling, ask Consuela to bring in the tea.’ She blushed a little. ‘I know it’s dreadfully decadent, but I wouldn’t swap my housekeeper for anything. Consuela is an angel. So wonderful to be in my own home, at my age. Anyway, enough about me. How is life in sheltered accommodation, Reenie, dear?’

  Gil gave a loud cough and looked out at the garden.

  ‘Exclusive retirement village,’ Reenie corrected. ‘And they are so kind to give me a darling cottage of my own, when I am one of their major shareholders. The house in LA and my Cheshire mansion are bringing in an absolute fortune in rent – not that I need any more money.’

  ‘Tea, everyone!’ Hugo was ushering in a tiny, nervous-looking woman carrying a tray stacked with so many things Mattie could barely see her face. ‘Consuela makes the best tea in the whole of Cambridgeshire.’ He winced as June cleared her throat. ‘Or, quite possibly, England.’

  In the middle of the forced politeness, Grandpa Joe popped into Mattie’s mind. She remembered him laughing about the previous incumbents of St Lawrence’s vicarage, long before Rev. Phil and his family arrived. Reverend Enoch Williams was, according to Grandpa Joe, ‘a whirlwind in the pulpit and a woodlouse in his home’, on account of his fearsome wife, Margaret. She insisted everyone in the parish call her by her family’s pet name of Min-Min, but was anything but as cuddly as the name suggested.

  ‘Have you ever seen anyone scared into having fun?’ he used to say, the familiar crinkles appearing in his face as he grinned. Grandpa Joe had a face that seemed to lift several inches when he smiled. Grandma, when she was alive, often said he was the only man she’d ever met who could ‘smile from the back of his neck’. ‘You should have seen poor Enoch at afternoon tea. I swear he arranged the petits fours into HELP ME messages on the plates as he smiled frantically at everyone.’

  Did the June Knight of The Silver Five bear any resemblance to the feisty lady now engaged in covert battle with Reenie? What would Grandpa Joe have made of the unfolding scene? Mattie looked across to Gil, who now hid his obvious amusement behind a cup of Consuela’s finest. Her grandfather would most likely have been sitting with Gil, the pair of them stifling laughter.

  Mattie pulled herself up at the unexpectedly warm image. Why did she think of that, now? It was obvious that lack of sleep was getting to her. She would turn in early tonight, she decided, to avoid any more confusion . . .

  ‘Do we all have tea? Good.’ June turned towards Reenie and asked the question everyone had been waiting for. ‘Now, Reenie, was there something you wanted to say?’

  ‘You have a beautiful home,’ Reenie purred. Mattie couldn’t see her face from where she sat, but she knew exactly what expression the old lady was wearing by the fleeting disappearance of June’s smile. If she was going to go down, she clearly intended to delay the moment as long as possible.

  ‘Well, that’s kind of you to say. It’s just my little abode. Six bedrooms – all en-suite – are more than enough for me. But I digress. Tommy said—’

  ‘Ah, Tommy. Y’know, he was always sweet on me. When we saw him this week he was just as flirty as ever. He spoke very warmly of you.’

  ‘We were always close. We’ve remained so ever since . . . well, I think you know from when.’

  ‘Rico loved him, of course.’

  That shot hit its target as June stiffened. ‘Poor Rico. So much talent. Such a shame, to lose it all and then be branded a criminal.’

  ‘He made a few errors of judgement, that’s all,’ Reenie snapped, m
omentarily abandoning her composure.

  ‘He made more than he was ever prosecuted for,’ June fired back. ‘You were one of the lucky ones. No surprise that you got off scot-free.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘You hung on to him long enough after you abandoned us. I wonder, did the fraud squad ever look into your accounts?’

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  Missile landed, June relaxed back into her velvet throne, a steely nerve revealed. ‘Let’s not go over old ground, shall we, dear?’

  Reenie sat bolt upright on the edge of her seat – and suddenly all Mattie could hear was alarm bells going off in her head. ‘No, let’s. We all know what this is about. You think you should have been lead singer.’

  ‘There’s no think about it: I know I should have been. Everyone tells me “Violetta” was our best song. The song I sang lead on. If there’s one question I’ve been asked the most at my public appearances it’s “Why weren’t you the lead?” Perhaps it was best we did end the group. Eventually we would have lost fans because Alys and I would never have had the chance to shine. And look at that little girl from Caerphilly now! A national treasure both sides of the border! And I have it on good authority that the Yanks love her, too. But of course, you’ll know that. Tell me, whatever happened to your Vegas shows?’

  ‘I left on a high. Left them wanting more, as any true star should.’

  ‘That’s not what I heard. But then, American divorces and bankruptcy can be so costly.’

  ‘Mum – your heart . . .’ Hugo began, but was hushed by a glare from his mother. ‘Miss Silver, I think it would be best if you told us why you wanted to visit now . . .’

  ‘I didn’t sabotage the group and neither did Rico!’ Reenie growled. ‘Face it, June, we were over and heading down the hill long before the Palm Grove gig.’

  ‘You decided! You, who slept your way into Rico’s good books . . .’

  ‘How dare you!’

  Mattie was on her feet and between the two snarling ladies, her earlier sense of danger confirmed. ‘Reenie, Ms Knight, please . . .’

  ‘Slept your way in and stole my place!’

  ‘Ohhh, so there it is! What took you so long to admit it, June? Too busy working on your second-rate vocals instead?’

  June was struggling to her feet, pashmina flicking furiously around her shoulders. ‘At least I’ll be known for my voice, not my ability to drop my knickers when I want something! You’re a flake and a hussy, Reenie Silver. Always were, always will be!’

  They squared up to one another, Reenie all in black and June in camel and white, like gunslingers at high noon.

  ‘Enough! Ladies, please, this isn’t getting us anywhere.’

  June stood her ground. ‘I’m saying what we all thought, Miss Bell! All of us, including Tommy. For years we met up and we cursed you, Reenie! Tommy and Alys and Chuck and me. We met in hotels around the country and we talked for hours about what you did. And you not coming? It was a gift! Because, finally, we could all say what we really felt. You haven’t come here to apologise. You’ve come to fool us all into one last opportunity to feel good about yourself.’

  Reenie grabbed her handbag – and, for a horrible moment, Mattie thought she might take a swing at her former bandmate. Instead she turned on her heel and began to leave. ‘This was a mistake. We’re done here.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right,’ June shrieked in her wake, ‘walk away! Just like you always do! Can’t drop your knickers to win this one, can you, Miss Silver? Because nobody cares what you do anymore!’

  ‘You can forget the chance I was offering you, you washed-up, has-been also-ran! Forget it! I’ll do the gig myself.’ Reenie was out of the door before anyone could stop her.

  Mattie looked at Hugo, who had paled to match the magnolia paint on the conservatory’s window frames. ‘I’ll bring her back. Just give me a moment . . .’

  ‘Get out! All of you!’ June tottered back, sitting heavily on the chaise. ‘Hugo! Tell them.’

  ‘It’s best you leave,’ Hugo said, apology filling his puppy-dog eyes. ‘I’ll see you out . . .’

  Mattie felt she was walking through a precariously constructed house of cards, now collapsing in her wake as the party left the house. Reenie didn’t even stop to say goodbye to June’s son, stomping woodenly across the drive towards Mattie’s camper van. Gil turned to offer Hugo a helpless shrug and handshake before following the old lady, a gesture Mattie found some comfort in. But without June and Reenie’s reconciliation, The Silver Five’s reunion would be incomplete. And if the remaining members felt the same as she did, what hope was there?

  ‘I really am sorry,’ Hugo said, placing both hands over Mattie’s. ‘I truly thought she would welcome Reenie. You’ll probably not believe this, but she talks about The Silver Five all the time. The places they played, the stories from the dressing rooms and being on the road. And the other members – all of them. I felt sure she would accept Miss Silver’s apology and all would be well.’

  ‘Not that we ever got to the apology,’ Mattie replied. ‘I thought Reenie could do it, too. But maybe some things are just impossible to forgive after sixty years. Will your mum be okay?’

  Hugo rolled his eyes and Mattie wondered just how easy it was for him to live with a woman so used to getting her own way. ‘She’ll survive. My mother isn’t the easiest to live with. And when she sets her mind, she’s pretty much immovable.’ He lowered his voice. ‘This house isn’t hers, you know. It’s mine. My wife and I moved her here after she broke her hip last year. She refused to go into sheltered accommodation, so this was the only option. My family are away this weekend, otherwise you would have had children, dogs and nannies bouncing around the place. And Consuela is mother’s carer, not her housekeeper. I’m sorry we weren’t straight with you. Sometimes it’s easier, in the long term, to give in to their whims.’

  Looking at Reenie now, stabbing the expensive driveway with her cane and demanding to be let into Rusty, Mattie was filled with sympathy for June’s long-suffering son. But her heart was heavy, the prospect of an un-reunited group meaning only one thing for her: that she had failed to keep her graveside promise to Grandpa Joe.

  She had to try to wrestle this back from the gaping jaws of defeat. ‘Is there any chance – any hope at all – that your mum might change her mind?’

  Hugo’s instinctive nervous laugh made Mattie’s hopes crumble. ‘Sorry,’ he said, clamping a hand to his mouth. ‘It’s just – well, you saw how she was . . .’

  ‘It’s such a shame, that’s all.’ Mattie wasn’t really speaking to Hugo now, the huge weight of disappointment causing words to flood out of her. ‘It would have been a wonderful thing to show the world, you know? That even after sixty years of misunderstanding and hurt, problems can be solved and people can be forgiven. There’s just too much grudge-keeping in this world and I’m sick of it. It’s why I’ve always loved the 1950s – it always seems like such a hopeful time. Although the more I learn about The Silver Five, the more I’m thinking I was completely naive to believe that.’

  ‘That’s the way Mother talks about that time. Despite everything that happened in ’56. If it helps, I think the years she spent with The Silver Five were some of the happiest of her life.’

  Mattie smiled at June’s son. They had a lot in common, both trying to move forward with headstrong elderly ladies determined to push in the opposite direction. At least she only had to live with Reenie for the next week or so: Hugo was stuck with his mother for the rest of her life. ‘Thanks – for agreeing to see us. I imagine you had more than a small part to play in it.’

  Her guess was confirmed as Hugo’s neck reddened. ‘More than you know. Tommy and I spoke about it for a long time before I dared inform my mother. I accepted on her behalf. Only told her last night that you’d be visiting, actually. And I think I will be held accountable for that for some years to come. I’m sorry we didn’t succeed.’

  That was it, wasn’t it? The fi
nal word: the meeting between Reenie and June hadn’t succeeded. There were to be no eleventh-hour changes of heart, no sudden races to bring about the reconciliation that on paper had seemed so achievable. Mattie could see Gil doing his best to talk to Reenie, but her expression said it all: We’re done here. Get me back on the bus and let’s go.

  Mattie handed Hugo a business card. ‘My mobile number is on there, if you ever need it.’

  ‘Thanks. Safe journey.’

  ‘Finally!’ Reenie wrestled open the passenger door when Mattie unlocked it, batting away her attempts to help as she struggled inside. ‘I was beginning to think you’d pulled.’

  ‘No, as a matter of fact. I was trying to save the gig. Not that you care about that.’

  ‘I told you she’d be difficult. But did you listen to me? Oh no. You said she was ready to talk. Like hell she was! Sitting there like the Aga Khan, looking down on me because she thinks she’s oh-so far superior – and did either of you stick up for Reenie Silver? Did you heck!’

  ‘That’s not fair, Reenie,’ Gil said. ‘From where I was sitting you were as ready for a fight as she was.’

  ‘Shut up, Kendrick, what do you know?’

  ‘I think I know a wind-up merchant when I see one. I take after my grandfather in that respect.’

  ‘Listen, kid, if you knew what I know about your grandad you wouldn’t be plaguing me. Matilda! Turn this rust-bucket around and get us out of here, will you?’

  Mattie had heard enough. Gil was right: Reenie was far from the innocent party in the fiasco they’d just endured. And how dare she try to call the shots now?

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Even as she spoke the words, Mattie was shocked at how easily they had left her mouth.

  Reenie glared over at her. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I will drive us back to the hotel when I am ready. What were you playing at in there? You said you were serious about apologising to June. About persuading her to perform at the reunion gig.’