Those Mid-Life Blues
By
Caroline Campbell
Copyright by © Caroline Campbell 2006
All rights reserved
This book is copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.
Printed and bound in the United Kingdom
Typeset in Verdana 10/16
This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
In this work of fiction, the characters, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or they are used entirely fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Published 2017 by Eagle Eye publishing
www.eagle-eye-writing-services.co.uk
ISBN 978-0-244-60066-2
dedication
Thank you God for life; for life is an inspiration.
I would also like to dedicate this book to the memory of my brother Norman East who sadly passed away in 1996.
My friends, Angela Bryant, Jonathan Campbell, Pauline Noble, Michael Gordon. You’ve been great friends. Ella Yeshin, who helped me through so much during my younger days; I appreciate you. Greater appreciation goes out to my dearest mother, beloved husband and my children. Thank you so much for your patience.
About the author
Born in the East End of London, Caroline Campbell is a poet and a creative writer. She is married with three children and lives in Birmingham. Those Mid Life Blues is her first novel.
She is currently working on her second.
table of contents
dedication
About the author
Chapter 1- I’ve got the blues
Chapter 2- Tell me this isn’t happening
Chapter 3- Taking the first step
chapter 4- You’ve got it bad
Chapter 5- What next?
Chapter 6- It’ll get better, I hope
Chapter 7- Crisis
Chapter 8- Keeping it real
Chapter 9- What have I done?
Chapter 10- It’s a good game
Chapter 11- Any love
Chapter 12- It’s all systems go
Chapter 13- Test of true love
Chapter 14- New beginnings
Chapter 15- The test of time
Chapter 1- I’ve got the blues
Name: Tony Manning
Height: 6ft 2ins
Age: 39
Stature: Medium build
Ethnicity: White British
Occupation: Celebrity Interior Designer
Personality: Eccentric, funny most of the time but now increasingly moody
Desires: Peace of mind.
Dislikes: Mussels.
Residence: Six bedroom Edwardian style house in Stafford.
Drives: State of the art Lexus
It had been four days since Tony had arrived in England and he was glad to be back. Designed 4u, America’s number one interior design show, cornered him for an interview. Macy Gray’s home, featured on Celebrity Cribs, was a slam and the producer of the show, Ross Edwards, was impressed by the clever interior designs executed by Tony for the superstar’s nine bedroom house.
Designed 4u you was the mini spin-off from Celebrity Cribs. Ross certainly knew how to turn the wheels of success in his direction. Essentially, the tried and proven way of boosting ratings was to have a celebrity on the show and of course award winning interior designer, the illustrious Tony Manning, fitted the bill.
Tony had a love–hate relationship with the press. Sure enough, they had put him on the map and given him the spotlight he needed in his early days, but there was a price to pay for fame, and that meant that the media could pull his strings any time they wished. They didn’t care about his emotions or whether he was having a bad day. They weren’t paid to be sensitive. On the contrary they were paid to expose and critique his work – and that was fine. By prying into his personal life at every opportunity, well they overstepped the line.
Most celebrities he knew of felt exactly the same. Their personal life was just that – personal, private and definitely not up for discussion, so when a smarmy reporter hounded him for a story about Macy Gray and what he knew about her love life, he made his feelings known. It was none of his business what she did and who she did it with.
It had taken some time for him to get used to his celebrity status. Everywhere he went fans spotted him, especially having created the BBC’s latest interior design series, Fabulous Rooms Made for You – and of course his dashing good looks didn’t go amiss either. He was tall, virile and attracted a massive following of female admirers, but today he looked tired and it was obvious from his facial hair stubble that he hadn’t shaved in over a week.
It was a warm day and dark glasses shielded his sore eyes from the sun as he walked towards Lorenzo’s Café Bar. Carter Davies, Editor of the Daily Mirror introduced him to Lorenzo’s a year ago and ever since then, whenever his schedule allowed, he hung out at the quaint spot for a couple of hours with two of his closest friends, Martin Truman and Mark Richards.
Lorenzo’s, situated in Kensington, had become Tony’s haven of escape, if only for those few hours. It was the place where he could relax, have a latte and not be disturbed or sought after by fans. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the attention, he welcomed it. He loved his fans but there were times when he felt stifled. The café gave him the space he needed so he could come up for air then breathe in the face of life again.
He developed a good relationship with the owner Lorenzo Emanuel and his wife Maria. They treated Tony as their son and he loved them dearly. Both in their mid-sixties, Lorenzo Emanuel and Maria successfully built their twenty-five-year business from nothing. But in recent months Maria had been suffering from arthritis in her legs. She was in a lot of pain, and therefore not as steady on her feet, so Lorenzo made the consecutive decision to appoint his eldest daughter Paulette to run the business.
Paulette was a smart woman with a generic drive for success. She brought a new spark to the place with the introduction of modern chairs, contemporary art on the walls and jazz music. It wasn’t surprising that with the changes made, Lorenzo’s had become renowned as exquisitely tasteful and indeed the place to be if you wanted good lattes and patisseries.
Tony knew what it was like to succeed. He was a celebrity in his own right. His wife of twenty years adored him and he was blessed with two children, Raymond, aged nineteen and Christine, eighteen. He owned a glamorous home in the suburbs and a penthouse in the Bahamas. He had it all, or so it seemed; only the way he felt right now, it didn’t matter what he had and what he owned, he felt lousy.
He pulled open the large glass doors leading into Lorenzo’s, took a seat by the table nearest the window and carefully placed his coat across his chair. Sitting with his arms folded, he peered over his shades and looked out at the masses of people pacing the streets. It was the lunch hour, which explained why a small crowd had congregated at the café bar waiting to be served.
Tony wondered if there was anyone out there feeling as miserable as he was. He doubted it very much. Within minutes of him taking a seat, Paulette walked over to his table.
‘Tony, is that you?’
‘Hello Paulette.’
‘How’s it going? I
hardly recognised you with the shades and the stubble. Is that a new look?’
‘You could say that.’
Paulette sensed something was wrong. He wasn’t his usual self; he had a larger than life persona and so it was duly noted that on this occasion he was quite subdued to say the least.
It was totally out of character for him. He always made his presence known whenever he was in the house. He’d come and find her behind the bar then give her a big squeeze, then he’d ask her for her parents but today was very different. He sat by the window, looking sullen.
‘Shall I get you your usual, Tony?’
‘Thank you, Paulette.’
‘Would you like something to eat, a sandwich maybe?’
Tony didn’t respond. He appeared to be in a daze and hardly blinked when Paulette returned with a large cup of latte and placed it in front of him along with his favourite clubhouse sandwich just in case he was hungry. It was standard for Tony. He always ordered a club sandwich, consisting of chicken and bacon in mayonnaise, garnished with spring onions and grated cheese nicely arranged in a wholemeal roll. Today he didn’t really didn’t care for anything.
Paulette walked away from the table. She wanted to sit down and talk to him for a few minutes, but she had appointed two new girls recently and much to her displeasure they were nervous using the espresso machine, despite being shown five times so until the two new trainees mastered the technical invention, she’d have to stand over them.
After fifteen minutes of staring at the bustle of bodies walking past the window, Tony hadn’t drank his cup of latte. He wasn’t even aware when another man sat down next to him until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Tony flinched for a moment but then continued to stare into space.
Name: Mark Richards Height: 6 ft
Age: 33
Stature: Medium and in great shape
Ethnicity: African Caribbean (born in the USA)
Occupation: Freelance writer, single with no children
Personality: Fun loving
Desires: Women with huge breasts and long legs. Loves his mother’s Caribbean cooking
Dislikes: Walking and feet
Residence: One bedroom flat in Bromley.
Drives: A sporty MG, much in keeping with his image
‘What's the matter with you?’ said Mark. ‘Have you lost something? And for crying out loud, why haven’t you shaved? Bro, listen up, if you’re not going to devour that scrumptious looking sandwich staring at you, just begging you to tantalise it with your taste buds, then I’ll have it.’
Mark sported that certain bad boy naughtiness about him and his wide smile alluded to the strong possibility that something or someone had aroused his loins.
He quickly snapped up the sandwich and was just about to take a bite of it when a third man made a grand entrance.
Name: Martin Truman
Profile:
Age: 43 Height 6ft 1in
Stature: Medium
Ethnicity: Caucasian (born in Dulwich, England)
Occupation: Graphics designer, single, no children
Personality: Caring, funny
Desires: Women, Chinese food and sleep, lots of sleep
Dislikes: Dogs and detests skinny women
Residence: A one-bedroom apartment in Hammersmith
Drives: An old Fiesta, not in keeping with his image
‘And what’s tickled you, Mr Truman?’
‘Mark, it’s a beautiful day, lots of women – beautiful women may I add, oh and they’re out there Mark, pacing the streets in their little short skirts and pert tops. Do you know why Mark? It’s April and that’s when it all begins.’
‘That’s when what begins?’
‘That’s when they all parade the streets. I mean real women with the greatest bodies. Well, then again maybe not but that depends if you like skinny because I don’t do skinny, give me the curvaceous fuller figured woman any day of the week.’
‘It’s calm, Martin, it’s calm.’
‘I take it that’s street slang for it’s all good, right. Anyway, where’s Tony?’
Mark pointed in their friends’ direction and rolled his eyes. Tony sat very still and was oblivious to the banter between Mark and Martin.
It was as though he were cocooned in his own little world.
‘If you’re looking for Tony, he’s right here.’
Martin leaned across the table and peered over the top of Tony’s shades.
‘Is that you, Tony? What have you done to yourself and why on earth haven’t you shaved?’ There was no reply.
Martin pulled up a chair and sat beside him. Mark sat in between them, crossed his legs and wondered what the hell was going on. He gave Tony the head-to-toe fashion examination. Ok, so he was wearing an Italian designer suit, blue loafers and a crisp white shirt but what on earth was going on with the face. Where was the polished look?
Martin spoke quite calmly and in a measured fashion. ‘Tony, you’re staring into space. You ok buddy?’
Mark’s approach was very different and much less tactful. ‘I know what it is; you’re losing your hair right?’ He patted Tony on the back. ‘Isn’t that right my old friend? It’s getting you down?’ Tony was approaching forty. His hair was thinning on top but he didn’t need Mark to remind him of the fact.
‘A good haircut and you’d look a lot better.’ Mark looked smug. In robotic fashion, Tony turned his head and eyeballed him.
‘Is that supposed to be funny? Is it Mark, because it’s not funny, it’s not funny at all.’
‘I’m just fooling around. Lighten up, for heaven’s sake.’ Mark paused for a moment. ‘But you are losing your hair, right?’
‘Maybe it’s about time you quit fooling around,’ snapped Tony.
‘Touchy.’
‘I’m not being touchy. Mark’s an idiot and yes I’m losing my hair. So what? Is that such a big deal, is it?’ Tony’s temples were now throbbing.
‘You go right ahead and laugh Mark, that’s right laugh, because one day it’ll happen to you, and we’ll see who’ll be laughing then!’
Martin nudged Mark, then whispered in his ear. ‘Have a little tact and decorum Mark. Do try and be a little sensitive. You know we’re not as fortunate as you to have the whole package, you know the sexy lick-my-lips look.’ Mark smiled in agreement but Martin nudged him again and then proceeded with the Truman glare which basically meant, you apologise right now or I’ll wipe that smile off your face real quick. Mark acknowledged the look and a feeling of contrition came over him.
‘I’m sorry, Tony, it was just a joke,’ but Tony ignored him.
Tony was on edge, thought Martin. Maybe he was working too hard. He knew Tony had a few major projects to deliver but it was nothing he couldn’t handle and it wasn’t as though this was the first time Mark had made jokes about his receding hairline.
Just like Tony, Martin’s hair was also receding, only he’d come to accept it. But sensing Tony’s reaction and how upset he was, Martin turned to his friend in an attempt to console him.
‘Tony, look at me. I’m losing my hair, it’s no big deal. As a matter of fact I read an article last year. The article said women find men with bald heads more attractive than men with hair.’
‘Yeah right,’ laughed Mark and again Tony didn’t respond, instead he reverted back to his seemingly ‘zombie state’.
‘Look at me Tony.’
Tony placed his hand on his jaw and looked at Martin but he wasn’t impressed.
‘Seriously, Tony, I was on a business trip to Oxford last year and I was reading this magazine. It was the photo on the front cover and the caption that caught my eye. The photo on the front cover showed a middle-aged man having his bald head kissed by this attractive woman with an ample bosom. I must admit the model on the front cover had a great pair. Seriously guys, it was the breasts that stood out for me.’
‘And why doesn’t that surprise me, Martin,’ said Mark.
‘I’m kidding, anyway, as I was
saying guys; the caption on the front cover said, “Lose your hair, and gain a woman for life.” Anyway the article reported that 89 out of a 100 women interviewed preferred men with bald heads. The report concluded that women find bald men more sexually attractive than men with hair.’
Mark shook his head in disbelief.
‘It’s true, guys, I read it in a magazine.’
‘Oh yeah and which magazine was this, Martin?’ questioned Mark.
‘Who cares which magazine, it was just some magazine.’
Mark looked at Tony and noted his blank expression. There was definitely something troubling Tony. Martin’s acceptance of his own fading hairline appeared to be of no consolation to him right now and it showed when Tony shrugged his shoulders, lifted his sunglasses and rubbed his sore eyes.
‘What’s wrong Tony?’
‘Who cares, no one cares.’
‘We care Tony. Did you have a bad start to the day?’ Tony looked at Martin and shrugged his shoulders again.
For a few moments there was silence while Martin and Mark weighed up the situation. It wasn’t long before a waitress made her way over to their table. She was quite attractive but was no more than eighteen, thought Mark, and far too young for him to prey on.
‘Can I take your order please?’
Martin smiled at her. ‘I’ll have a cup of cappuccino. How about you Mark?’
Mark looked up at the waitress, smiled, and then made his request.
‘I’ll have a diet coke, please, plenty of ice and no lemon. Oh and I’ll have a slice of your pecan pie with whipped cream, lots of cream.’
Martin turned to Tony. ‘What about you Tony would you like a drink?’ There was no reply.
‘O … K then! My friend here will have a latte.’
Tony didn’t move an inch and remained exceptionally quiet. Mark and Martin exchanged puzzled looks. They glanced at Tony who was still staring at the bustle of bodies walking by.
‘Tony, was it my joke about your hair? Is that why you’re so quiet?’ asked Mark, although he sensed it was nothing to do with his banter. There was something eating away at Tony and the fact that his pristine and debonair friend hadn’t shaved in over a week was evidence enough. Today Tony Manning wasn’t just quiet, he actually appeared to be depressed. It wasn’t a side to him that his friends were used to seeing.
Those Mid-Life Blues Page 1