Car doors slammed, followed by the sound of men's feet on the pavement. The two girls huddled together beneath the steps, hoping they wouldn't be spotted in the dark.
'Evening all!'
'Aiden.' Camellia breathed again. She couldn't see his face, but the voice was unmistakable.
John's white jeans appeared next to Aiden, his fair hair shining in the street lighting. 'I heard there was a party here,' he said.
It was then Camellia noticed John was holding something white over his arm. 'Is that my coat?' She wanted to laugh and cry all at once.
'Yours and Bee's,' John's gruff London voice had never sounded so wonderful. 'And Bee's bag. I checked it out and found two tampons, a lump of dope and some unidentified pills. What do we get for its safe return?'
'Anything,' the girls said in unison.
Once they were in, Camellia turned to Aiden. 'Coffee,' she asked. 'Then you can tell us how you escaped.'
'Coffee?' Aiden pulled a face. 'Show 'em what we drink, John!'
John pulled out a bottle of brandy from his coat. 1 nicked it.' He smiled shyly. 'While everyone was watching you two.'
Camellia took her coat and stroked it lovingly. 'Thanks Aiden, it would've broke my heart to lose this.'
'You can pay me back in kind,' he said, wide mouth curving into a delicious naughty smile. 'Me and John wouldn't say no to another show!'
'Bollocks,' Camellia grinned. 'We don't do encores.'
'You two are full of surprises,' Aiden smiled, sitting down and stretching out his legs while John opened the bottle. 'Striptease, mountaineers, if we'd come along any later I expect it would have been breaking and entering too.'
'How did you get away?' Camellia giggled. 'Come on, tell us?'
'Well, we guessed you was planning to leg it,' John grinned, his narrow face alight with pleasure. 'So we found your coats and Bee's bag over by the window. I just happened to glance out and saw the pigs arriving. We ducked out the front door and up the stairs to the next flat.'
'Where I chatted up the young ladies to offer us shelter,' Aiden smirked.
'He knew them already,' John looked sideways at his friend with barely disguised pride.
'Anyway we heard the police rampaging down the stairs and someone saying something about the bathroom window. So we put two and two together, got the girls to escort us down the stairs, kissed them goodnight and here we are.'
'But what about all those other people?' Camellia asked.
Aiden didn't look concerned. 'Down the nick by now,' he said. 'And in court on Monday morning to be sure. I dare say some of the towel-heads have diplomatic immunity. They wanted a slice of swinging London. I just gave them the whole cake.'
'That was without a doubt the best fuck ever!'
Camellia giggled at Aiden's deep brown Irish voice and snuggled closer to him. I bet you say that to everyone,' she said, biting his shoulder.
It was a week since the party. That night the four of them had smoked dope, drunk brandy and of them had smoked dope, drunk brandy and finally passed out. When Camellia woke later in the day she found herself on the couch tucked under a blanket, and Bee on cushions on the floor, equally well tucked-in. John and Aiden had gone.
All week Camellia had hoped Aiden would drop by, though Bee was less enthusiastic about seeing John. Then finally on Sunday afternoon just as she'd decided his interest in her was an illusion, he telephoned and asked if she would meet him for a drink that evening.
Bee had been quite relieved not to be included in a foursome and said she'd watch TV and go to bed early.
It was a wonderful evening. Aiden was a complete entertainment, mixing wild stories about his spell in the army and his time in prison, with gentle sweet ones about his large family in County Clare. He admitted having a wife, but avoided saying where home was. He was loyal enough to admit she was beautiful and long-suffering, laughingly calling her 'the shrew'. Whenever Camellia asked how he made a living his eyes twinkled and he invented something – anything from pimp to surgeon – but with enough conviction to make her believe he could in fact be anything he chose.
Camellia sensed that for all his charisma, he was a lonely man, disappointed by a cold, childless marriage which religion and upbringing prevented him from leaving.
He was even reluctant to make love, once they got back to the flat. He told her that he was forty, not the young man she'd supposed and asked if she was sure that was what she wanted.
But it was. Aiden fascinated her, bewitched her with his dark blue eyes, talk and ready laughter. From the first gentle kiss which expanded into wild passion the moment he crushed her into his arms, she knew there was no turning back.
Now he turned her face to his and kissed her on the nose. 'Sure I've said such things to other girls, but I don't remember meaning it before. Though why a girl like yourself, with all that beauty, intelligence and blarney, should waste herself on an old reprobate like me, that's really got me beaten.'
'Just practising till a big fish comes along.'
Aiden sat up in bed, pulling her with him and reached out for a cigarette.
The small table lamp on the bedside table cast a harsh light across his face. Dressed in a dark suit, he passed for thirty, but tired and naked his real age showed: a puckering of the skin around his mouth and eyes, a few grey hairs amongst the jet black, a stomach that was losing its tautness.
'Don't be a gold digger,' he said as he flicked his lighter. 'Settle for love, babies and suburban bliss. Money alone won't make you happy.'
'I was going to insist on a big cock too,' Camellia laughed, but something in his tone made her uneasy. 'Are you trying to tell me you are about to disappear?'
'If I could go back ten years I'd never leave you,' he said with surprising tenderness. 'But you aren't in love with me, Camellia.'
He was the wisest man she'd ever met, and when he wasn't telling huge, outrageous lies, the most honest. She sensed that deep down he was much like her, that even when surrounded by people, and the centre of attention, he too had the same lonely feeling as she did sometimes. Maybe that was why the lovemaking was so special. Somehow they had touched on this shared raw chord.
He was right of course: she wasn't in love with him. He was wonderful, probably the nearest thing to love she'd found in Chelsea, but it wasn't going to be forever.
'Don't go right out of my life, Aiden,' she whispered, playing with the long black hairs on his chest.
'I have to go away soon,' he said. 'And you've got to find another way of living before things catch up with you. I thought I felt that devil on horseback around here during the night.'
Camellia didn't answer. He had used that expression earlier in the pub, referring to something in the past. Now she felt the menace of it without knowing its meaning.
'Me Mam used to say that,' he smiled. 'Me Da was a devil for the drink and when I was little I thought she meant him. One night there was a terrible storm and she said it looking out the window. The next morning they brought me Da home on a cart. A tree had fallen on him on the way home and his back was broken.'
A shiver ran down Camellia's spine.
'What happened to him?'
'He died a day or two later. It was pneumonia, not the injuries. He'd been out there helpless in the rain all night, chilled to the bone.'
'Don't,' Camellia put one hand over his mouth.
'Just a word of warning,' Aiden grinned impishly and stubbed out his cigarette. 'I know how it is when you're young, you think good luck lasts forever. But everything in this life has to be paid for sweetheart. Like now this old man has to go to sleep or he'll drop dead later from exhaustion.'
Aiden had been in Chelsea for a month, but now, two days into the New Year of 1970, he was leaving the next morning as he claimed to have business in Sheffield. It had been a wild month. Camellia's twentieth birthday, Christmas and New Year had been an orgy of drinking and drugs, parties and clubbing and even John had deserted them tonight, too exhausted to face any mor
e crazy scenes.
'So what do you want to do on your last night?' Camellia asked.
'Would you be prepared to do anything?' Aiden grinned wickedly at both girls.
Camellia laughed. Aiden was absolutely unique. A real man through and through yet with such a childlike sense of fun. He was irresistible and whatever he wanted to do she was prepared to do it.
'As long as I can do it sitting down,' Bee answered. She had spent most of the day lying on the settee nursing a hangover but now after half a bottle of vodka she was beginning to perk up.
'What about you, Camellia?' He put one arm round her and squeezed her tightly. 'My dearest wish?'
It was the way he looked at her that told her what he wanted, a little hangdog, but wicked lights in his blue eyes. He'd mentioned this fantasy on several occasions.
Camellia wanted him to leave happy, whatever it took, but she was also afraid of being jealous. Yet Bee liked Aiden almost as much as she did, and it would be sad for her if she was left alone on Aiden's last night in the flat.
'I guess so,' she said hesitantly. 'But only if Bee agrees.'
Bee looked from one to the other, clearly puzzled.
'Well Bee, are you going to join me and Camellia and make an old man happy on his last night in London?'
Bee's blue eyes shot open. 'You mean both of us?'
'Friendship's all about sharing,' he said nonchalantly, sitting down and taking a packet from his pocket. 'A little cocaine might loosen us all up.'
Camellia winked at Bee to reassure her she didn't really mind. The way she felt about Aiden it was probably a good idea. Alone with him she just might have started wanting more than he could give.
Only Aiden could have made it wonderful. They snorted two lines of coke apiece, then he led them into Camellia's bedroom holding them by the hand, lay down with an arm round each of them and kissed first Bee then Camellia until they were totally relaxed.
It was a delicious game. Camellia unbuttoned his shirt, Bee undid his trousers and together they slowly. stripped him, kissing his neck, his chest, even his legs and feet.
His penis reared up like a barber's pole. Bee who had seen it many a time in a flaccid state stared in amazement at its size and ripped off her dress and underwear in record time.
When Bee bent over to take it in her mouth, Camellia slowly took off her clothes, watching Aiden's face. His blue eyes were on her, one big hand caressing Bee's neck. He held out his free hand to her and drew her down beside him, covering her mouth with his. Aiden's kisses were yet another thing that set him apart: all the enthusiasm and passion of a teenager, yet with a sensitivity and tenderness. He teased with his tongue, turning it into something astonishingly intimate. When Camellia opened her eyes to find that Bee had moved round and his fingers were gliding in and out of her, her arousal became stronger. It fascinated her to watch Bee writhing under his touch. Camellia slid down and joined Bee, licking at one side of him as she licked the other, their fingers touching as they caressed his balls. Aiden's fingers slipped into her too, groaning with delight at their joint effort.
The cocaine was having the desired effect, their inhibitions forgotten as they each took what they wanted. First Bee moved away, sitting astride his face and the sound of Aiden's lapping tongue and her friend's moans of delight increased the pleasure from the fingers inside her.
Camellia knelt between Aiden's legs, rubbing his penis against herself. Bee was crouched over him now, her plump white bottom moving up and down, revealing the tongue running against her.
The visual impact was too great. Camellia knelt over Aiden and with a groan of pleasure lowered herself onto him, masturbating frantically. Her own cries mingled with Bee's and she came almost instantly, screaming out with such ferocity Bee looked round in alarm.
'Oh shit, that was wonderful.' Camellia disengaged herself, crawling up the bed to Aiden, leaving Bee to take over. She smothered his face with kisses, undeterred by the musky smell that could only be from her friend.
Together they watched Bee come, her head thrown back, her mouth open as she moved up and down on Aiden. Her big breasts wiggled and swayed, her fingers rubbing herself. Aiden's mouth moved to take Camellia's breast, his fingers running over her nipples while he kissed her deeply.
'Let me kiss your pussy,' he whispered hoarsely as he began to buck fiercely. 'Don't stop Bee, I'm nearly there.'
Camellia came again seconds after she heard Bee shout out and then there was just wild grunting from Aiden as he finally came too.
Three damp, sticky bodies lay entwined, Camellia sighing deeply and Bee giggling.
'That's just about the rudest thing I've ever done,' she said. 'What on earth would my mother say?'
'Brazen hussy, get to bed without any tea.' Aiden's voice seemed extra deep, his laughter directed only at himself. 'I suppose I shall have to confess this too. "Father I have sinned. I took two young ladies at the same time and it exceeded my wildest dreams."'
They had tea later, the three of them sitting up in bed laughing at everything and anything.
'I must go,' Aiden said eventually, turning to kiss both of them in turn. 'If I live to be ninety you two will always be my favourite dream. Look after one another.'
Camellia slipped on her dressing gown and went with him to the door.
'Come back soon, Aiden,' she said, reaching out to hold him one last time.
'Remember me fondly,' he said, stroking her hair back from her face. 'I wish,' he stopped short and just held her.
'What do you wish?'
'You know,' he said softly.
She knew. That he was younger, that he was different and that tonight didn't have to be the last.
'I love you, Aiden,' she whispered.
'Watch out for that devil on horseback,' he said, faltering for a moment, then turned away.
She watched as he bounded up the stairs to his car, biting back tears.
A sigh behind her made her turn. Bee stood in the doorway in her pink dressing gown, her hair rumpled, her face sweet and girlish.
'Now there was a man!' she said. 'He'll be a hard act to follow.'
Chapter Nine
May 1970
'Hi! I'm Camellia. Would you like some company?'
'Sure, honey!' The fat American's shoe-button eyes swept down her silky dark hair, lingered at her breasts bubbling out of her red chiffon cocktail dress and came to rest on her long slender legs. 'Sit down why don't ya. Let me buy you a drink.'
Camellia's professional fixed smile concealed dejection as she slid into the seat beside him. She'd drawn the short straw. It was only eight in the evening, the club wouldn't fill up for hours and this guy looked awful. It could be the longest night in history.
Camellia put her forearms on the table and turned towards the man as if he was the most important person in the whole world. 'Now what's your name and what part of America are you from?'
'Hank Beckwith, from Detroit.' He held out a podgy hand. 'Sure is swell of you to spend some time with a lonesome American.'
Camellia was repelled by the wet handshake, but fluttered her false eyelashes from force of habit. 'You do understand I work here as a hostess and I have to ask for a fee?'
He didn't reply and for a moment Camellia hoped he'd refuse. Instinct told her he wasn't a regular nightclub punter.
Then to her surprise he pulled out his wallet. 'How much?' he asked.
Twenty pounds,' she said quickly, doubling the normal charge. It wasn't ethical of course, but Bee was at home in bed with the flu, and somehow Camellia felt justified in taking her share too.
The American frowned as he pulled out two new ten-pound notes and put them on the table.
That's the worst part over.' Camellia folded the money and slipped it down the front of her dress. 'Now let's have some fun.'
Fun was the last thing she expected to have with this Hank Beckwith. He didn't look like he had it in him. Fat, red-faced and balding, his forehead was already glistening with perspirati
on. His big splayed-out nose, his wet, sloppy mouth and his loud checked suit appalled her. Without looking under the table she knew he was wearing her other pet hate: white socks.
'So tell me all about yourself,' she asked once the drinks he ordered arrived. Her first vodka and lemonade was real and she sipped it appreciatively, knowing the ones that came later would be just lemonade. 'Are you on holiday or on business?'
'Holiday? Do you mean vacation?' He stared stupidly at her. 'No honey, I'm here to work. My company makes packaging machines. I'm over here checking out your factories.'
In eighteen months of working in clubs, Camellia had met men in almost every line. But what could she say about packaging machines?
Unprompted, Hank began to reel off facts and figures: the targets he'd soared above and how much his company valued his expertise. Camellia fixed her eyes on him and pretended to listen avidly, letting her mind wander off.
She didn't want to work as a hostess anymore, it was becoming a drag. The thick carpeting, the chrome rails, plush booths and intimate lighting couldn't disguise the inherent sadness of nightclub life. How many more potted family histories would she have to listen to? If one more man told her his wife didn't understand him she felt she might just kick him in the balls and tell him he was lucky to have one at all!
It was all very well having nice clothes and plenty of money, but where was the romance, the thrills?
Aiden was partly responsible for this change in Camellia's outlook. His words about getting married and having babies seemed to have stuck in her head. Since the New Year everything had seemed a little phoney: the dressing up, the showing off, the so-called 'good friends' who came round to their flat for meals, but rarely bothered to ask her and Bee back to their place. Even the Beatles had disbanded back in April. Their songs had charted her life and emotions right through her teenage years and it seemed vaguely ominous that they should split up just when she was feeling it was time to move on.
Camellia was tired of one-night-stands, of hearing the same old glib chat-up lines. Aiden had made her want a real, meaningful relationship with a man, someone who just wanted to be around doing ordinary things.
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