Then Des had his arm around me again and was ushering me out of the pub and saying to Bob, ‘That’s cool, mate. But give it a few weeks; we’re away until the end of January.’
Once outside, I hugged Des and didn’t let go until I’d stopped shaking.
‘Thank you so much for that. You should have been an actor.’
‘It wasn’t such a difficult role to play, babe.’ He kissed the tip of my nose, and we went home to build a snowman.
Chapter 21: The Night Before Christmas
The office closed at lunchtime on Christmas Eve. Everyone was going out for festive drinks, but I didn’t join them. Instead, I raced home to soak in the bath for an hour and get ready for the Alley Kat gig and the meeting with Josh Greenwood’s agent. I was as nervous as a schoolgirl. I knew I wouldn’t be meeting Josh that night. Angela had explained during a phone call the day before that he never spoke to anyone on gig nights because he needed to focus on his performance.
‘You know what men are like, especially rock stars. He can’t cope with multitasking.’
‘Do you go to all the gigs?’ I wasn’t sure quite what an agent did. I’d never given it much thought.
‘No, I just make the bookings and organise publicity and so forth. This one’s an exception because it’s in my home town. Anyway, we’ll talk tomorrow.’
Trudi arrived at four o’clock to calm me down. At least, that was her story, but I think she just wanted to be involved in some capacity, so she took on the role of wardrobe advisor. I sat on the bed while she explained why I shouldn’t wear the blue trouser suit I’d picked out.
‘It’s too dressy for a rock gig.’
‘But I’m trying to look like a journalist …’
‘From a fanzine, not the Sunday Times. You need to go for something more in keeping with the music scene. You know – the rock-chick look.’
‘I’m too old to be a rock chick, and too fat. What do rock hens wear?’
We finally agreed on a black skirt that was above the knees but not quite short enough to be called a mini, with black tights and a close-fitting, V-necked sweater. I pulled on my ankle-length boots and allowed Trudi to hot-brush my hair and do my make-up. I was almost scared to look at myself in the mirror, but when I did, I was satisfied that at least I didn’t look ridiculous. Any lingering doubts I had were dispelled when Des arrived at five-thirty. I’d left the door on the latch so he walked straight in. He stopped in his tracks when I stood up to greet him and just stared at me, saying nothing.
‘What’s up?’ I asked, suddenly self-conscious. ‘Do I look awful?’
‘I’m speechless, Lyd.’ He walked around me. ‘They haven’t invented the words yet for how good you look. Wow!’
Relieved beyond measure, I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him.
‘You say the sweetest things.’
‘I almost wish we were staying in,’ he said, laughing. ‘We could celebrate Christmas early. Tomorrow’s going to be a dull old day.’
‘Oh, but you’ll be partying with Tess and her cronies, won’t you? I’m sure you’ll have a whale of a time.’ I’d been trying not to think about it, but all my unease was returning.
‘No. I called her today and said I couldn’t make it after all. I’d rather be on my own than join the desperate and dateless club for the day. Besides, it’s not like I’m trying to hook up with anyone.’
I couldn’t help smiling. Tess wouldn’t get a chance to latch onto him after all.
It’s now or never; I’ve got to ask him.
‘You could join Trudi and me, you know. Of course, we’re also desperate and dateless …’
‘I was beginning to think you’d never ask.’
‘That’s settled then. We’ll be eating at three-ish.’
Angela had done us proud. We checked in at the box office to collect our tickets and there was an envelope containing two backstage passes and a note with instructions to join her in the green room after the show. We had half an hour before curtain-up, so Des steered me towards the bar. The only seat available was a high bar stool which Des insisted I should take. Those things weren’t designed for a woman of my height in a short skirt and I struggled to get onto it, trying to arrange myself gracefully – never an easy task. Des found it highly amusing.
‘I’ve never seen you so edgy before. You weren’t this nervous before your audition.’
‘It’s the skirt; every time I move, it rides up. I’m showing far too much.’
‘That’s a matter of opinion.’ He winked. ‘Hey, look who’s behind you.’
I swivelled round and gasped as I found myself staring straight into the sexy brown eyes of Josh Greenwood. Well, a life-size cut-out of him I’d failed to notice earlier. I almost fell off the stool but Des caught me. He was laughing and I wanted to be mad at him.
‘That was evil,’ I said.
‘I was doing you a favour,’ he protested. ‘If it’d really been Josh, you could have fallen into his arms instead of mine. I’m sure you wouldn’t be complaining then.’
‘Hmm. There’s a thought.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Ten minutes. Shall we go in?’
Des put his hands on my waist. ‘Jump down then. Pretend I’m Josh if it helps.’ There was something strange in his expression.
‘You’re not just the teeniest bit jealous, are you?’ I couldn’t resist teasing him.
He didn’t meet my eyes. ‘Do I need to be?’ He offered me his arm and we made our way into the auditorium.
The gigs I’d attended as a teenager had been in much bigger venues, where most of the audience would be standing, screaming their heads off. It’s a bit different when your rock gods are pushing sixty and the fans are all middle-aged. The Alley Kat concert was in a ‘proper’ theatre where everyone was seated. The front row was reserved for the press, and that was where Angela had placed us, right in the centre. As we sat down, an usher approached and gave us our complimentary ‘press pack’, which included a souvenir programme and a special edition CD containing preview tracks from the band’s forthcoming album.
‘I feel like a fraud,’ I whispered as I leafed through the glossy programme which was retailing for £10 in the foyer. ‘We’re being treated like real reporters. What if we get found out?’
‘We are real reporters, to all intents and purposes. Luvsik Memories is a real website. We have some genuine subscribers and as long as you write up your interview with his Lordship we’re doing exactly what we set out to do.’
The house lights dimmed and the curtain rose. The supporting band played for twenty minutes, failing to captivate the audience with a mediocre performance of a number of songs they classified as ‘Celtic rock’. They left the stage to polite applause. Des took a notepad out of his pocket.
‘What’s that for?’ I asked.
‘Well, one of us should really post a review on the website within the next few days, and I’m guessing that’s going to be me.’
‘You think of everything, you clever thing.’
‘I do my best.’ He smiled and licked the tip of his pencil. ‘You just relax and enjoy the show and I’ll play “music journo”.’
The auditorium was plunged into total darkness and a voice announced:
‘Ladies and gentlemen – Alley Kat!’
The music started and I recognised the opening riff straight away. It’s All About the Music had been my favourite song back in the day. As the stage lights came up to reveal the band it was almost like being fifteen again. Josh Greenwood strutted to the front of the stage, took the microphone from its stand and started singing. From somewhere near the back of the auditorium there were a few screams and soon everyone was rocking and clapping to the beat of the old familiar songs of Luvsik Kitten and later the new material produced by Alley Kat.
Des leaned towards me. ‘Are you having a good time?’ he asked.
‘Are you kidding? It’s amazing.’ I could hardly sit still. ‘Are you?’
‘If you’re happy, I’m happy. T
onight’s for you, babe.’
I turned my attention back to the stage. Josh’s hair was streaked with silver now and he wore it shorter. Gone was the eye make-up, but his eyes still seemed to sparkle from a face whose once boyish prettiness had matured into rugged good looks. Des was right about the music too; the new songs were good; maybe even better than the old ones. I wondered if Josh thought so as well. I made a mental note to ask him at the interview.
All too soon the show came to an end. Des put away his notepad as the house lights came up. He asked for directions to the green room, explaining that we had an appointment, and the house manager checked our passes and pointed us in the right direction.
Angela was waiting for us. ‘Lydia, how nice to meet you. And this is …?’
Des shook her hand warmly. ‘I’m the editor and webmaster of Luvsik Memories. Call me Des.’ He smiled broadly. ‘I must say, you look far too young to be the agent for such a prestigious band.’ His eyes were twinkling and I could see that his deliberate charm was working on our hostess. She blushed and simpered as she led us to a comfy seating area where two sofas faced each other across a low table.
‘I’ve arranged for tea and coffee, but we can get you something stronger if you prefer,’ she said as she sat down and waved a hand for us to do likewise.
‘Tea’s fine for me, thanks.’ I sat on the other sofa and was a little disappointed when Des chose to sit next to Angela. She didn’t look that young; maybe thirty or thereabouts. She was tall and slim with rather sharp features and she wore a pair of those glasses that are almost invisible. She produced a desk diary from her large shoulder bag as we drank our tea.
‘Did you enjoy the concert?’ she asked.
‘It was fantastic. Thanks for looking after us so well,’ I said.
‘My pleasure. Now let me throw some dates at you and see when we can arrange this interview. Josh is a very busy man, as you know, but he’s back in this area in February and we can fit you in then, if that suits.’
It’s really going to happen. I’m going to meet him. I’m so excited I can’t speak.
Des took control, thank God. ‘We discussed this earlier. We appreciate Mr Greenwood’s generosity in agreeing to the interview, so we decided that Lydia will accept any date that he’s available and will cancel her other engagements for that day.’
‘That makes life easier. Let’s say lunch on February 12th. I can call you with confirmation of the details.’
‘That’s perfect, isn’t it Lydia?’
‘Yes, perfect,’ I managed at last.
Des drove me home, but didn’t come in with me. He said he had things to do, so we kissed goodnight at my front door just as the church clock across the way chimed midnight.
‘Hey, do you hear that? Merry Christmas, Des.’
‘Merry Christmas, Lyd.’ One more kiss and he was gone.
Chapter 22: ’Tis the Season
Trudi came early on Christmas morning and we played festive CDs as we started the preparations in the kitchen. She was quite magnanimous about the fact that Des would be joining us.
‘I was half expecting it, actually. You couldn’t really let him spend the day on his own.’
‘You don’t mind then?’
‘Of course not. I’m getting used to the idea that you two come as a package these days. Now, tell me all about last night.’
I didn’t need any further encouragement, so I filled her in about the concert and the meeting with Angela while she prepared the vegetables and I got to work on making special Christmas stuffing to go with the capon that was slowly roasting in the oven. As I finished my tale, she looked at me.
‘You do realise you’re totally obsessed, don’t you?’
‘So what’s new? I’ve been obsessed with Josh for thirty years.’
‘Oh dear! You really don’t know, do you? I’m not talking about Josh. I’m talking about your “good friend” Des.’
I was confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Last night you went to the gig of a lifetime to arrange a lunch date with your teenage idol, right? So how come, when you’re telling me about it, every other sentence is about Des? What he said, what he did, what he thought … I tell you, girl, you’re obsessed.’
I thought about it for a minute and then nodded. ‘Well, maybe just a little. I mean, I am very fond of him.’ I knew I was blushing, but I also knew there would be no point lying to Trudi. She knew me too well.
‘And has he fallen for you too?’
‘I didn’t say I’d fallen for him.’
‘You didn’t have to. Well, is it mutual?’
‘I don’t know. I know he likes me and we’re good together in so many ways – but we never talk about our feelings.’
We adjourned to the living room with a couple of glasses of sherry to chill out until it was time to start cooking. We sat in silence for a few minutes, but Trudi couldn’t let the subject rest.
‘You should tell him. It isn’t healthy to keep things bottled up, you know.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I snapped. ‘Things are just fine as they are. If I say anything he’ll probably run a mile. We’re having a good time at the moment; I don’t want to spoil it.’
‘I’m sorry, Lyd. I didn’t realise it meant that much to you.’
‘Neither did I, until recently. I’m trying not to make an idiot of myself here. Des and I have something going on, but don’t ask me what it is because I don’t know. Now, let’s change the subject before he gets here, OK?’
‘OK. Have you started rehearsing for your next audition yet?’ Sometimes best friends know when it’s time to do as they’re told.
‘Not yet. We’re going to work on it tomorrow; well at least we’re going to think about possible songs.’
‘When you first started on this mission I thought you were crazy, you know.’
‘And now?’
‘I think you’re fabulous and I’m proud of you. Going after the things you want is great.’
The atmosphere lightened up and we hugged as the doorbell signalled Des’s arrival. Trudi let him in. He was wearing a Santa hat and carrying a bag from which he produced a sprig of mistletoe.
‘Who’s first?’ He held the mistletoe above his head and closed his eyes, so we both gave him a peck on the cheek.
My guests succeeded in burying their usual animosity and we spent the afternoon in the traditional British manner. We ate too much and left the washing-up piled up in the sink so we could stretch out in the living room and drink too much. We’d decided to leave exchanging gifts until later. Trudi sprawled in the huge armchair and Des sat on the sofa.
‘Come and sit down now, Lyd. You’ve been on the go for hours, and you’ve been the perfect hostess. Time to relax.’
‘Are you sure you want me to sit next to you?’ I teased. ‘In the green room last night you preferred to sit next to Angela.’
Des spluttered with laughter and almost spilled his coffee. ‘I did, didn’t I? And you couldn’t work out why?’
‘I thought you were trying to impress her or …’
‘Or that you fancied her.’ Trudi added.
‘Aha! So it was OK for you to get all hot and bothered watching Josh onstage, but you didn’t like it when I sat beside Angela? A pattern is emerging here, my dear.’ He was mocking me gently. ‘Ah, Lydia, you’re such an innocent at times. Isn’t she, Trudi?’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Trudi responded. ‘But why don’t you tell us? Then Lydia can stop fretting about it and I can go to sleep for half an hour.’
Des laughed again and addressed his reply to Trudi. ‘It’s simple really. The two sofas were facing each other; sitting with Angela I got a much better view of Lyd. Last night was only the third time I’ve seen her wearing a skirt and she has great legs.’
‘You’re such a sexist,’ Trudi began, then she started to laugh. ‘But your logic is faultless. You’re also a wind-up merchant.’
&nbs
p; ‘So you were ogling my legs?’ I tried to sound shocked.
‘Well, if you have to put it so bluntly, yes. Can you ever forgive me?’ His pretended contrition was hilarious.
‘OK, you’re forgiven.’
He put his arm around me and I leaned against him. He kissed the top of my head and we sat in comfortable silence for a while. A few minutes later I realised that Trudi had fallen asleep. Des noticed too and whispered, ‘Come closer.’ He didn’t wait for an answer before his lips found mine and I savoured the now familiar taste of his kiss. ‘I’ve been dying to do that all day.’
‘Me too,’ I said, kissing him again. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’ He held me close and whispered in my ear. ‘Do you know what I’d like to be doing with you right now?’
‘Tell me.’
Then the man who couldn’t write an erotic story a few weeks ago spent the next twenty minutes describing in detailed whispers what he’d like to do, and what he’d like me to do. It was the hottest thing I’d ever heard. I almost forgot that we weren’t alone in the room ‘Can I stay here tonight?’ he asked.
‘Yes please,’ I gasped. ‘Now I think I’d better do the dishes before I explode.’
Des let out a sigh. ‘Later, then. I’ll help you with the dishes as soon as I can stand up.’
By the time Trudi opened her eyes, we’d done the washing-up and Des had made a pot of tea and cut some slices of fruit cake. We weren’t hungry, of course, but overeating on Christmas Day is traditional. We decided it was time to exchange presents.
I gave Trudi a bottle of her favourite perfume and Des gave her a box of chocolates.
‘I wasn’t expecting anything,’ she said, although she was clearly delighted. ‘Sharing the day with you was enough.’ She reached into the bag she had brought with her and produced a bottle of wine for Des and a blue silk scarf for me.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, draping it around my neck.
‘It brings out the colour of your eyes.’ Des was smiling.
I went to my desk and took out an envelope, which I handed to Des.
Always Something There to Remind Me Page 9