Searching for a Silver Lining

by Miranda Dickinson

  ‘We need to celebrate!’ Reenie exclaimed as she, Mattie and Gil gathered back in their hotel bar later that day. ‘I feel fantastic! I haven’t felt this good in years.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Mattie smiled, still buzzing from the extraordinary reunion she had witnessed.

  ‘And I want to say thank you – to both of you. If you hadn’t tricked me into that meeting, the gig would have been very different. So: I am taking you out on the town tonight.’

  Mattie’s horror mirrored Gil’s as they exchanged looks. ‘Reenie, I don’t think . . .’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t be repeating my karaoke session, kids. I had a chat with Rachael on reception and she recommended a place not far from here. Come on, trust little old Reenie, will you?’

  An hour later, in a pretty former Methodist church hall, Reenie led a very worried Mattie and Gil into another world. Before them were whooping, whirling couples dressed in Fifties’ circle-skirts and sharp suits, dancing for all they were worth to music by Eddie Cochran, Bill Haley & His Comets and Jerry Lee Lewis. It was as if Reenie had transported them back in time to the very beginning of her solo career, the excitement and energy impossible to resist.

  ‘They call it the Shoo-wop Shindig,’ Reenie called over the music. ‘Most of these kids are students at the university. Rachael said it started as a dance club and then turned into a whole Fifties lifestyle thing. Who would have thought this old stuff would be back in vogue?’ She beamed up at Mattie. ‘Better than drunk karaoke?’

  Mattie squeezed her shoulder. ‘Much better.’

  ‘Shall we sit down?’

  Slowly they made their way between the tables laid out around the edges of the room, finding space near the bar. Mattie helped Reenie to her seat and for a while the three of them watched without speaking, feet involuntarily tapping to the irresistible rock ’n’ roll beats.

  It was only when she took a photo on her mobile phone to send to Joanna that Mattie realised Reenie was crying. She lowered the camera and stared as Gil reached for Reenie’s hand and quietly held it.

  She wasn’t imagining what she saw: Gil was genuinely moved watching Reenie’s reaction to the spectacle. Reenie acknowledged it with a brief nod, but didn’t pull her hand away. Mattie couldn’t take her eyes off them. It was as surprising as it was intriguing. Could this road trip mean more to Gil than he’d said?

  The song ended and the couples on the dance floor applauded as if a live band had just entertained them.

  Reenie cleared her throat. ‘If you’re getting the beers in, Kendrick, mine’s a double brandy.’

  ‘Right. Okay. Mattie?’

  ‘Orange juice, please. I want a clear head for driving to Bath tomorrow.’ Gil nodded and headed over to the bar.

  ‘These kids have more energy than I did,’ Reenie chuckled. ‘One of the reasons I became a lead singer: you leave all the jumping and twisting to the dancers behind you. I reckon Gil likes this place.’

  ‘Me too,’ Mattie said, her gaze following Gil momentarily until she caught Reenie watching her. ‘You should be very proud of what you did today. That wasn’t easy.’

  Reenie scratched her chin. ‘Wasn’t exactly my finest hour. But – I think we did a good thing there.’

  ‘You did. You did an amazing thing.’

  ‘June Knight was never going to give me an easy ride, was she?’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘Serves me right for making her my mortal enemy all these years.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know, kid. We’ll never be bosom chums, but I think we can both be happy there’s a line drawn under it.’

  ‘Stupid Cupid’ by Connie Francis began to play, and the floor filled with strutting, twirling dancers again.

  ‘Reenie?’ Mattie asked.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Why did you leave The Silver Five?’

  Reenie blinked. ‘I had my reasons.’

  ‘So you keep saying. But you’ve never told me why you left that night.’

  ‘Where’s my brandy? The service round here is shocking . . .’ She made a hammy show of looking over her shoulder, careful to keep her gaze away from Mattie.

  ‘Stop avoiding the question.’

  ‘Matilda, I’m thirsty and I want a drink. I’m not avoiding anything.’

  ‘Liar.’

  Reenie looked at her then. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything. All you need to worry about is making this gig happen.’

  It was another slammed door. The question remained stubbornly lodged between them: in all their meetings and planning for this trip, Reenie had refused to broach the subject. What could have been so terrible that she didn’t want to talk about it, sixty years after the event? She certainly didn’t shy away from talking about anything else, even the failure of her marriages. So what was it about that event, that night, that she couldn’t say?

  Gil returned, and Mattie let her mind wander as Reenie launched into her ‘the time I met Connie Francis’ story. Rico had to be behind what had happened. She knew from what Reenie had confessed to Tommy and now June that she’d been romantically involved with the Svengali – despite him being married to someone else at the time. Reenie had admitted during their meetings at Beauvale that she’d loved him and stayed with him for a year after the breakdown of his marriage – yet a few months after that, she had married someone else, a drummer from her backing band. Had the reality of a real relationship with Rico been a disappointment? Had it always been his plan to single Reenie out from the group? Was he possessive of her?

  Save for admitting she’d been in love with him, Reenie had only talked of Rico in terms of his effect on her career: the doors he had opened, the promises he had made and (mostly) kept, and the confidence he had given her in her ability to become a star.

  Had Rico known Reenie wasn’t going to appear at the Palm Grove that night? Had he been waiting for her outside, leaving the rest of the group behind?

  ‘Okay, okay, a bit of hush, please.’ Reenie was tapping her brandy glass with her acrylic nails. ‘I’d like to propose a toast.’ She gave Gil a sly glance. ‘To Mattie.’

  Gil raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh?’

  ‘And you. But mainly this lovely girl. I wouldn’t be sitting here now if she and Hugo hadn’t set me and June up today. And if I’d known what was being planned, I’d’ve staged a sit-in in the hotel car park this morning. But our Mattie was right: it was bad air that needed clearing. So –’ she raised her glass – ‘thank you, Mattie. You’re not always right, but this time you were.’

  It was only later, when Mattie left the celebrations to go back to her room, that she understood the significance of Reenie’s toast. She had stood her ground – and would have fought harder if Reenie hadn’t agreed to go ahead with the meeting at Riverside Mews. And she had walked with the two former bandmates, gently leading their conversation towards the reconciliation. Ultimately, it had been Reenie and June’s decision to apologise and forgive: but without Mattie’s determination to make it happen, it simply would not have been possible.

  She had stood her ground. Mattie’s eye fell on Grandpa Joe’s diary, lying on the teak-effect bedside cabinet. What if . . . ? She winced as her stomach contracted. What if she had refused to let him disown her? What if she’d marched into his hospital room and demanded her share of his last precious days?

  It was a new thought, sitting awkwardly within her as if there wasn’t quite enough room to accommodate it yet. All along, she had been telling herself that Grandpa Joe had been right to doubt Asher and that she had been wrong to follow her heart. But at the time, it had been what she’d wanted more than anything: more, even, it turned out, than Grandpa Joe’s love. Why hadn’t he allowed her to follow her heart like he had done all his life?

  She picked up the diary, opening it to the now-familiar youthful handwriting of the headstrong Joe Bell, following his heart in the bright lights of London.

  Tuesday, 8 May 1956

  Len reckons I should be apprenti
ced to an escapologist, not an accountant. He said he’s never met anyone who can sneak out of a locked house as easily as I can. But I have my scheme now – and Uncle Charles has no idea. A chap I met playing snooker at the Duke showed me how to pick a lock. It’s surprisingly fast when you know what you’re doing. So when Uncle C locks the front door at night I wait till he’s gone to bed, do my little trick and walk out of the house like a lord. Who needs to shin down drainpipes when you can leave by the main entrance?

  I can lock it, too, when I get back. It takes a little longer, but I’m gradually getting the hang of it. Thankfully Uncle C is a creature of habit, rising every morning at a quarter to seven. Mrs Johnson the housekeeper wakes at six, so as long as I’m back by five o’clock I’m home safe. The only time I forgot to lock the door, Uncle C assumed Mrs J had unlocked it early – and Mrs J is so old and forgetful that she assumed he must be right.

  I’m tired, though. Don’t think I’ve ever been so weary in my life. I’m at my desk by eight o’clock, remaining there with the ledgers until six in the evening. But all I can think about is the PG and who I’m going to see there. Last night it was Ted Farnsworth and his Orchestra. Cracking girl singer, too. Her voice was the kind you think you’ve heard somewhere else. When she started to sing the first number the crowd stopped dancing to watch. I’ve never seen that happen before. Una likes to dance. And Len doesn’t seem to mind now if I dance with her.

  I think I might be falling in love . . .

  Picking locks? Defying his uncle? But what intrigued Mattie more was the act Grandpa Joe had seen at the Palm Grove. Did Reenie know Ted Farnsworth’s Orchestra had played there, months before The Silver Five were due to appear? She had never mentioned whether or not she’d kept in contact with Ted after leaving him to join The Silver Five. Did she know about her replacement who had so impressed Grandpa Joe?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘That’s Amore’ – Dean Martin

  ‘Can this traffic go any slower?’ Reenie slumped in the front seat. The journey from Cambridge had started well, bright and dry with easy-flowing traffic. But as they joined the M4, the vehicles around them began to bunch up, the tell-tale red of brake lights making Mattie’s heart sink.

  The Cambridge leg of the journey had taken considerably more time than they’d allocated and now they were chasing the clock. They were already a day late – and the road ahead suggested further delays.

  ‘It’s like having a kid in the front seat,’ Gil said, adopting a whining voice. ‘Are we nearly there yet?’

  ‘We should have brought her some colouring books,’ Mattie replied, enjoying the joke. ‘Or would you like to play I Spy?’

  Reenie laughed. ‘Fine. I’ll go first. I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with cheeky B . . .’

  Gil laughed. ‘You asked for that.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What I want to know,’ Gil said, tapping Reenie’s shoulder, ‘is if you really met the Beatles.’

  ‘I did, several times. First time, at a party in Soho. Had no idea who they were, mind. They were with their weaselly little manager, and him and Rico fell out over a card game. So I ended up hunkering down with them in a corner, hiding from the fracas. Nice lads. Obviously, coming from Liverpool, we had a bit in common.’

  ‘I don’t know whether to believe you, but I like the story.’

  ‘Well, it’s a good job you do, Gil, because there are plenty more where that came from . . .’

  The traffic eventually cleared and the rest of the journey passed with a surprising lack of drama – for which Mattie was extremely grateful. The last thirty-six hours had been a rollercoaster ride of celebration, disappointment and relief, and she was in no hurry to repeat it. Reenie spent most of the drive reminiscing, while in the back Gil slept.

  Just before two p.m. Rusty descended a steep, curving hill to bring them into the historic city of Bath. The sun that had lurked behind a thick bank of grey cloud for most of their journey chose the best time to appear, bringing a sparkle to every building they passed.

  They had booked rooms at a large pub, and as they turned into its car park Mattie heard a collective sigh of relief from her passengers. They piled out, the routine of unloading bags now feeling familiar to Mattie.

  ‘I tell you what, why don’t we all head into Bath once we’ve settled in?’ Gil suggested. ‘It would be good to get out for a while.’

  ‘Definitely.’

  An hour later, the group reconvened in the cosy bar of the pub. Mattie felt brighter after a shower and change of clothes, the creases of the journey finally removed. Just before she’d left her room to join the others she’d transferred Grandpa Joe’s silver sixpence tiepin to her new clothes, fixing it carefully to the collar of her shirt. It had certainly witnessed some amazing scenes over the last few days – and now it was about to see the lovely city of Bath, which had always been one of its former owner’s favourite places.

  In the courtyard by Bath Abbey in the centre of the city, they agreed to spend the next hour exploring. Reenie declared that what she most wanted was to find a comfy chair in a nearby restaurant and ‘just watch the world go by’.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Gil asked Mattie when she had gone.

  ‘I fancy a walk around,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been here for years and I want to stretch my legs after all the driving I’ve done.’

  ‘Mind if I tag along?’ His smile was warm, and the offer more than tempting.

  ‘Not at all. Have you been here before?’

  ‘Never. So you can show me the sights. Believe it or not, I’m excited to see the city. Reenie makes me feel like I’m the curmudgeonly old person on the team – I’ve been suffering strange cravings for a pipe and slippers in the back of that van.’

  ‘You are a bit of an old git, you know,’ Mattie laughed, dodging his hand as he mimicked a swipe at her. ‘Come on, you are! Sitting in the back seat, all grumpy.’

  ‘Grumpy? I prefer aloof.’

  ‘Nope. Definitely grumpy. You’re not eloquent and Darcy-ish enough to be aloof.’

  He laughed. ‘Oh, charming. And there was me thinking I could bowl you over with my unattainable allure.’

  Was he flirting? Heat prickled the back of her neck. ‘There’s a pretty square somewhere near here. I think it’s this way . . .’

  She caught his smile as she glanced back. ‘Okay. Maybe we can find somewhere to fuel my unhealthy caffeine habit, too. It’s been at least three hours since I indulged.’

  Mattie’s instincts proved correct, and at the top of the next street they entered a small square surrounded by restaurants and cafés. At its heart was a marketplace, the skeletal frames empty of stalls now, beside a tall elm tree whose leaves arced gracefully over the honeyed stone paving. Mattie remembered having lunch with Jack here one day, during a Bell family weekend to celebrate their grandparents’ ruby wedding anniversary. It had reminded her of a Parisian square then and it did today, too, the effect enhanced by the chairs and tables set outside the cafés and restaurants. It was a pleasant afternoon with a refreshing breeze, and the sun shone through dappled cloud. It was as if the whole of Bath was taking a long, leisurely breath, and the tension of the last few days ebbed from Mattie’s shoulders as she settled at a table outside a coffee house while Gil went inside to order.

  She needed this – time out to think and absorb what had happened during the past week. Nothing had gone to plan, and yet, as she reflected now, it had all felt right. Reconciliations were never going to be as easy in reality as they had been on paper. Life wasn’t quantifiable in lists and schedules. It was a huge achievement to have three of The Silver Five signed up for the concert – and significant barriers had been broken in the process. With the meeting with Chuck tomorrow already something Reenie seemed to be looking forward to, and then only one more meeting to negotiate, Mattie was optimistic about the outcome. The concert was going to be wonderful; five old friends reunited in the restored former glory of G
il’s grandfather’s club.

  Her fingers instinctively touched the smooth, cool silver pin on her collar and she smiled. One step closer to taking you back there, Grandpa Joe. Remembering his diary in her bag, she reached for it. She’d intended to find a quiet place to read it this afternoon, excited by the thought of being in his favourite place with his words. She hadn’t reckoned on having a companion – lovely though it was to spend time with Gil – but seeing him waiting in a considerable queue inside the coffee shop, she seized her opportunity and opened the diary.

  Thursday, 21 June 1956

  I kissed her.

  Nothing will ever be the same again.

  Len doesn’t know. He thought I’d left early, but I came back after he’d gone. Una and I met behind the PG and we couldn’t keep our hands off one another. She’s got me, hook, line and sinker. I’m utterly lost.

  I have to see her again. Alone . . .

  ‘What’s that?’

  Startled, Mattie snapped the diary shut and threw it into the bag at her feet.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Her head was spinning from what she’d just read and she didn’t know what to make of it. The passion in Joe Bell’s words had shocked her.

  ‘Doesn’t look like nothing to me.’

  Mattie looked up at him and he instantly relented.

  ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure if you wanted cake, but I brought some anyway.’

  ‘Oh. Thanks.’ She reminded herself to smile, torn between enjoying Gil’s company and wanting to be alone so that she could read on. ‘What do I owe you?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. My treat. It’s the least I could do after you’ve put up with my back-seat grumpiness.’

  ‘It’s no problem, really. I’m starting to find it endearing.’

  ‘Endearing?’

  ‘Mm-hmm. Like Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets, commentating on everything from the theatre box.’

  ‘So, let me get this right: I’m the equivalent of two grumpy old men?’ The playfulness was back again, and his green eyes twinkled in the afternoon sun.