by Mae Temson
“Oh mio Dio. Non può essere? Sei tu? Sto diventando pazzo! Delta?” a woman yells.
Hearing my name makes my heart lurch and my guard go up. Fearing a fan ambush I turn slowly to the source of the voice. I come face to face with a slim, tanned woman. She is wearing jeans, a classic white shirt and a very expensive looking leather jacket. Her eyes are hidden behind oversized shades. Her hair is cropped short, white blonde. She is laden with various bags which she dumps unceremoniously as she comes towards me with her arms outstretched,
“Is it you Delta? Really? Is it you?” She lifts her sunglasses and places them on her head.
There were those eyes. My stomach turned gymnast and my heart near enough packed up instantly.
“Wow it is you!” She takes me by the shoulders and plants a continental kiss of greeting on each cheek before stepping back to arms length to look me up and own again. “It is you.”
Abrielle.
“Let's get inside. I haven't packed the coffee machine yet. She unlocked the door and I helped with the bags up the ornate wooden staircase inside. Her parents apartment took up the whole top floor of the building. It was cool, light, airy. I imagined it would have been a comfortable family home but it was bare now. A few boxes still took up one corner and as we crossed to the kitchen I noticed a bed still made up in one of the rooms.
“What on earth are you doing here?” She said. There was was an edge of New York in her accent. “Cat got your tongue?” She teases as I realised I had not uttered a word yet. I pulled myself together and explained how I had gone home, picked up the letter and gone to the gallery.
“Oh, you met Julietta then?”
“Yes, “Ms Falcone” she's quite a character. She did save me from a fan mob though.”
“She's efficient, I'll give her that but I think she has a crush on me. She gets possessive.” She smiled as she put on the coffee machine and rummaged around in a box for cups.
I have all kinds of questions to ask this beautiful woman in front of me but it just doesn't seem right to bring it all up now. We have literally just reconnected after all. Abrielle made the coffee and we chatted for a while. We kept it light. She told me which tracks she liked on which album. I couldn't say I liked her other work other than the stunning portrait of her Grandmother because I had only seen the pieces in London.
“Falcone?” I ventured, not really wanting to hear the answer, “Where does that come from? No wonder I have never found you in any search.”
“Oh,” her eyes sparkled, “you have looked me up then?” She laughed, “Don't look so terrified Delta. I am teasing you. Again. My Grandmothers maiden name was Falcone. I took it in respect of her and shortened to Abbey to keep the public and private persona’s separate.” She looked at her watch, “Damn, sorry Delta I have to run. Papers to sign. Can we meet later? How long are you here?”
On the way out I explained that I had only booked one night at the hotel in case I didn't find her here and that I didn't have to be in Rome for two more days.
“Okay, great.” She gave me a card with her details on and wrote a name of a restaurant on the back. “Dinner? Yes? 7pm.”
She planted more continental kisses on me and was gone. As quickly as she had appeared.
From the Album “Viper Moon”
Track Two.
Lunar Love.
You came to me rising,
a star in ascent.
I fell for you. Total.
You said it was destined.
You said we were meant.
Written in stardust
meant for all time
written in star dust.
Lover of mine.
My heart. You possessed it.
Captured me whole. I fell for you. Total.
You said it was destined.
The hostage? My Soul.
Written in stardust
meant for all time
written in star dust.
Lover of mine.
Your love it eclipsed me,
a meteor tempest.
I fell for you. Total.
My heaven sent temptress.
Written in stardust
meant for all time
written in star dust.
Lover of mine.
© Delta Di Noia
15
I walked back to the hotel via the square and this time I went in to the Cathedral. It is stunning. There is no other way to describe it. So beautiful. So peaceful. I need peace all right. My head is spinning and I swear my heart has not regained its composure since I turned to find her there. That vision before me. I sat in a pew at the back and drank in the architecture, the sounds, the smells. Incense takes me back to squirming in church. Wanting to be outside playing with my friends, riding my bike. Wanting to be listening to records or cooking with my mother. Wanting to be anywhere other than there. My father was, actually still is, devout and insisted we attend. He implored with us every Sunday until one by one we became too big for him to make us go. Until outside influences drew us to other Sunday pursuits.
A small group of children are being given a tour. Their muted chatter is almost musical as it echoes high in the rafters. Various people come and go. Locals and tourists alike I imagine. Most of them genuflecting in front of the statue of Mary or under one of the stations of the cross before finding an empty pew and spending time in contemplation or prayer. I have never subscribed to religion. Yes, when I was very young I sat beside my Father terrified of the man in the pulpit but I can see how the peace and tranquillity of such an impressive place as this would give you time and space to think, would give you hope. Do I have hope? I feel like my confidence, my composure have been shaken. What was I expecting? Honestly? Right now I truly couldn't tell you. If I am honest I feel like the teenage Delta again. Confused. Unsure.
She is stunning, Abrielle. She always was, to me, but maturity has given her an edge. A confidence she did not have when we were younger. I have held her in such esteem all these years. My mind and my memories have created perfection. Ultimately I know she was the love of my life and I am terrified that I wouldn't or don't live up to her expectations. Whatever they may be. Indeed she may not even have any at all. She may be involved with someone, married even and totally happy with the life she has. There is so much I don't know about her or she about me. We are still those young girls from all those years ago but life has inevitably changed us in ways we are not even aware of ourselves.
There are still four hours to go until dinner. I am off to see what Grosseto can offer in the way of my go distraction when I am stressed or lost somehow, retail therapy. I will then go back to the hotel and change. I didn't pack smart (I don't really do smart I just do me.) so I hope that what I have will be okay.
16
The restaurant is small, tucked away down a pretty side street. It doesn't look too fancy. There are some tables outside and the balconies all around are awash with flowers. Geraniums, petunias, pelargoniums, lobelia, the effect is stunning and takes me back to my grandmothers and my mothers garden. They were and are incredibly talented gardeners. The colours are breath taking. I love flowers but whether I have inherited the family green fingers remains to be seen. I have never had a garden of my own.
The menu, which I have read and re-read while waiting, also looks impressive. I realise that I am suddenly hungry. I haven't eaten all day.
“The Ribollita is incredible.” Abrielle's voice cuts my reverie. “or the Supplì. Hey it's all great. Depends on how hungry you are.”
She too has changed her clothes and looks incredible in in leather trousers and a chequered military style jacket over a tight black top. I feel shabby in comparison.
“Hey, again.” She grins, leaning in for the continental kisses once more. I smell flowers and sunshine in her perfume, just like so long ago.
“You look incredible.” I manage lamely. (Charm School is clearly still over subscribed)
“Thank you. You too. You know you haven't cha
nged one bit in all these years. Come on, lets eat.”
Inside the restaurant is traditional. Brick wall covered in old photographs and paintings. Wine bottles fill shelves and every crevice. The ceiling is curved, also brick but painted white. There are one or two people eating already and Abrielle seems to know them all. Stopping to chat to some and waving at others as we make our way through the tables towards the back of the room.
“Did you book?” I ask, curious as to why no waiter or waitress had approached us.
“No need, no need. This is my cousins place. He keeps a table for me whenever I am in Grosseto.”
With that a slightly older man appeared, beaming broadly, arms out stretched as seems to be the way here,
“Abrielle! Mia bellissima cugina. Mi stai di nuovo visitando e con un amico. Che meravigliu. Il tuo tavoto è pronto per te. Invierò Marco a breve.”
More Kisses.
We took our seats at a table for two right at the back of the place.
“I wasn't sure if you'd appreciate anywhere more public.” She said, almost apologetically. The fact that she had thought about it touched me.
Abrielle was right. The food was outstanding. Marco, the waiter, was attentive but not intrusive. I could feel the wine easing my nerves. Conversation was as easy as when we were teenagers. We talked about a lot. Abrielle was keen to know how I had got involved in the music industry. I explained that, as she knew, I had always written poems/lyrics and played the guitar. For a good while I was content with my own musical company but as my circle of friends expanded I met more and more musicians and before long there was a core group of us that played together regularly at friends parties or after the pub. Someone's sister asked us to play at her wedding and the response we got was phenomenal. Like a lot of singers I never wanted to be the front man. I was happy with my role as guitarist. The wedding bash gave us a new confidence and we approached a few bars and got some small gigs around the area. We called ourselves Red Naive. For the life of me I can't think why. Anyway we plugged away, working our jobs and soon we were playing a small venue almost every night of the week. We all had something to contribute. Transport, lyrics, somewhere to crash. I remember it as a great fun time. We didn't have a pot really and everything was scrounged for or blagged but it's full of fond memories for me.
Gina, our singer dropped out for a while due to family issues and I reluctantly stepped in. The response was overwhelming. I would never have dreamt of being upfront but I kind of enjoyed it in a totally terrified, nerve fuelled way. When Gina came back I still did a couple of songs per set and the audience reaction was always positive. When the crowd started shouting for me to take the lead on a regular basis Gina got the hump and bailed out altogether leaving me to take centre stage. The Drummer, a friend from college, Ben, broke his leg skiing and that's where Dave stepped in to the picture. Liam, the bass guitarist got married and moved away. Jules, the keyboard player tragically died in a car crash. Mick (bass guitar) and Ryan (keyboards) filled their places and remain with me today. We all clicked so well. Red Naive had always felt like a bunch of friends playing for kicks, for fun, but when we, the new group, all started playing together there seemed to be an added dimension. We all felt it. It felt like playing with family.
Lipped, a band from our area that had started to get a decent following asked us to support them on a small arena tour. It was thrilling, such an adventure and such a great experience and learning curve. It gave us a taste of the life. They wanted to put us on the posters of course and it felt like the right time to rename ourselves. So, so many stupid names were bandied about. I swear we were nearly Mystic Lime. One day Dave said that as I was the only original member left, that I was the front “man” and only girl we should be just called Delta. The boys all agreed and despite my protestations that's what we became. It took a long time to get used to that I can tell you. People regard me as a solo artist and I am so far from that. I would be nothing without my boys.
The arena tour went very well and off the back of that we got our own tour and first record deal with the same company as Lipped. We haven't stopped since. We have been fortunate, we have a steady, devoted fan base.
As I look at Abrielle across the table I get a flash back of various points in my career and of various people, Sarah, Maria, Siobhan. I realise that though I have lived fully, travelled widely and had my fun, there has always been something missing. Could I have just found it again? Suddenly I want to know everything about Ms Falcone.
She explains to me that she, like me, stuck with those early pastimes and kept a camera close by always. At Uni she submitted some pictures to a rag brochure and then to a national women's interest magazine which were well received. She worked for a small regional newspaper for a while as a local interest columnist but grew tired of village halls, garden shows, prize winning marrows and best in show pooches. All the time she had been building her own personal portfolio of images, finding that faces, people interested her the most. She entered a portrait competition and although she hadn't won it one of the judges liked her work and offered her a job in a new, small magazine set-up in New York. She took it and lived there for six years hence the twang in her accent. Like me the increase in personal circle increased the opportunities and someone offered her a wall in a small down town gallery. One or two sales there led to greater interest in her work and a subsequent demand for her skills in several magazines. Her ability to capture something of the whole person in one shot intrigued people and she had been asked to take portraits of important families all over the world. All leading to being able to have solo exhibitions in various cities around the world.
The after dinner digestivos arrived. Grappa for me, Amaro for Abrielle. I felt warm and contented after the superb meal. I could get used to this, I thought. Maybe it is time to take some time out from the perpetual gigging. We suddenly seemed to have been on tour or in a recording studio forever.
“So, Julietta says you have never been to one of our gigs?” I ventured.
“No, I have never managed to be in the right place at the right time. I have wanted to believe me.”
Her eyes met mine and a lightening strike of desire flashed through me. I was sure she must have sensed it,
“and I have looked for you at every one.” I said before I really thought about it, “But I figured you weren't a fan or didn't want to see me again.”
“Oh My Delta.” She reached across the table and took my hand. “I have followed your career since the first album. Life just hasn't dealt me the chances to catch up with you. When I found that address book it floored me. All our happy times came flooding back. I couldn't ignore the strength of feeling I had when remembering those wonderful days. So long ago now, so brief and yet so real. I realised that I had to write to you, just as I had all those years ago. I had to make contact somehow. I thought that you probably wouldn't even remember me. I thought that you would have so many people in your life, that you would have no time. No time for me. I hoped but I never dreamt that I would ever see you again.”
I didn't know what to say. I couldn't find the words to express the surge of emotions that were racing around me in that instant. I was exhilarated, delighted, scared and overwhelmed all at once. I realised in that moment that this was all that I had ever subconsciously dreamt of. Here was the chance of a lifetime. How many people are ever handed one of those? I was filled with the sudden dread of messing things up. I could feel the walls of the restaurant closing in on me, the wine rushing to every part of me. All my insecurities flooded my brain, tumbling together in one great swell.
“Can we get out of here? Please?”
Abrielle signalled for the bill and I darted for the door.
17
The warm air outside hit me, taking my breath away and making me panic all the more. I kept going up the alley to the main street. I recognised the way to the cathedral and kept going, my heart drumming in my ears. It was dark now but there was still a lot of people about. I tur
ned in to the square. The Cathedral was illuminated. It looked just as stunning as it had in glorious sunshine. I found a bench on the edge of the square and slumped on to it, head in hands, my breath erratic. I tried to calm my breathing down. I hadn't had a panic attack like that in years. You would think that the front man of a band would be supremely confident. A lot are, but twice as many are shy, self doubting, self deprecating unassuming souls who were thrust in to the spotlight before they knew what was coming. I had only been here, in Italy, just over a day and my world had been completely turned upside down. I felt someone standing in front of me.
“Well I have had some reactions before but that has topped the lot.”
I opened my eyes and saw stylish boots and leather trousers,
“Seriously Delta, are you okay? You frightened me.”
As I look up in to her face that flash of desire from earlier fires through me again. I am a mess,
“I am so sorry.” I can only whisper, “So sorry.”
“I am sorry that I haven't found you before now. I...” She sat down beside me, “I..”
“It's not that. I'm sorry. I was overwhelmed. I realised that seeing you again was all I had ever really wanted and to hear that you wanted it too, even just as friends, blew my mind.”
“Oh Delta. We must stop apologising okay? Right now. No more apologies. Agreed?” She said, taking my hand.
“Agreed.” When she didn't let go of my hand I sat back on the bench and started to take long slow breaths trying to slow my heart rate.
“Does that happen often?”
“Not for years, but when it does I just find myself taking off. It's lucky for you I don't know my way around here. You may never have found me.”
She squeezed my hand and sat back too, so close, legs touching. I could see us back in that tiny bedroom of hers all those years ago sitting so close. Me, just as terrified of telling her how I was feeling then as I am now. We were so innocent.