Chapter 16
‘So, lads, the contracts are signed and the studio is booked for next week. There’s only one last thing I’m not happy with. We haven’t hit on the right name for the group.’
The four band members were lounging in Freddy’s sitting room. He was in the process of tearing the gold foil from the top of a bottle of champagne.
‘I rather liked The Leopards,’ sniffed Todd.
‘Sorry, Todd, it just doesn’t sit right. The only bit that we should keep is “the”. “The” something works well. Any ideas, anyone?’
‘How about The Flies? Insect names seem to be the thing at the moment,’ quipped Derek.
‘Nope, it’s too clichéd. Next!’ smiled Freddy.
‘Blue Heaven? Yeah, I like that,’ Ian offered, to no reaction at all.
Freddy stared blankly back at him. ‘Yeah. Anything else?’
The boys shook their heads, before Con eventually spoke up.
‘How about The Fishermen? I’ve always thought it was a grand name for a band,’ said Con.
‘You would: you’re an Irish Catholic,’ Todd said cynically.
‘The Fishermen.’ Freddy mulled it over in his mouth. ‘The . . . Fishermen . . .’ Yeah, I quite like that,’ he nodded.
‘Me too,’ said Ian.
‘It’s good,’ said Derek.
Todd rolled his eyes heavenwards.
‘Well, if anyone comes up with something better,’ Freddy said, ‘let me know. For now, time for champagne. Here’s to the hottest group to hit the music business in years!’
‘We hope,’ said Todd, taking a glass from Freddy.
‘No more of that talk. You all have to believe it’s going to happen. Otherwise no one else will. Cheers. To The Fishermen.’
‘To The Fishermen,’ they chorused.
‘So, next Thursday, it’s back into the studio. We’ll trot out a mix of your own stuff, Con and Todd, and some tried-and-tested hits. I’ve already been in touch with a couple of record companies, warning them that a demo will soon be on its way.’
‘I have a few songs as well, actually, Freddy,’ said Derek.
‘Then bring them along.’
‘I will.’ Derek’s face lit up.
Freddy took Ian into a corner to look through a drum magazine. Todd moved over to Con.
‘Want to get together this weekend to do some writing?’
‘Sure.’ Con nodded.
‘Come to mine. Lulu’s flat is bigger. How about eleven on Saturday morning?’
‘I’ll be there.’ Con nodded again.
Todd noted that his co-frontman appeared to be a little downhearted. ‘Everything okay, Con?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, fine.’
‘You seem a little subdued, that’s all.’
‘I’m grand altogether, Todd, really,’ said Con.
‘I’ve got to go, chaps,’ said Derek. ‘I’m seeing Peggy tonight.’
‘I thought we were on for a celebratory pub crawl?’ said Todd.
Derek swigged back his glass of champagne. ‘Sorry, other plans. Thanks, Freddy. See you next week.’
Derek left the flat and headed for the nearby tube station.
Sitting on the train on the way into the West End, he surreptitiously took out the brown envelope Freddy had handed to each of the boys after the contracts had been signed.
He felt the pound notes crinkle beneath his touch.
Freddy had paid them all a month in advance.
Derek knew exactly what he wanted to do with the money.
Peggy’s front door was wedged between the chip shop and the newsagent’s. The paint was peeling off, and the bell hung lopsided on its nail. Heart banging against his chest, Derek rang it. There was no response.
‘Darn it,’ he cursed under his breath as he tried the bell a second time.
Just as he was about to turn and go, the door opened a couple of inches.
‘Is that you, Peggy?’
The door opened a little wider. ‘Er, yes.’
Derek could see she was in her dressing gown. Her normally immaculate hair was tangled and there was a smudge of mascara under one eye.
‘Peggy, are you ill?’
‘That’s it. I’ve got the flu.’
‘You poor thing. Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘No, no, I just need to stay in bed and sleep it off.’
‘What a pity,’ sighed Derek. ‘I’d booked a table at the Indian in the high street for half past seven. I was going to take you out to celebrate.’
‘Celebrate what?’
‘The group’s new deal!’ Derek beamed. ‘We signed the contracts this morning.’
‘Gosh. Congratulations.’
‘Thanks. I . . . I bought you this.’ Derek proffered a small, gift-wrapped box.
‘Oh, Derek, why? You mustn’t waste your money on me.’ She felt a pull on her heart at the sight of Derek – who still had the slight appearance of a schoolboy – thrusting the present in her direction. She couldn’t take it. She mustn’t.
‘Because I wanted to buy you a present. Please, have it. I shall be terribly upset if you don’t.’
Peggy’s face portrayed a half-smile, half-grimace. ‘All right.’ She held out a hand. Derek put the parcel into its palm. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Any time. Now, shall I call round tomorrow and see how you are?’
Peggy’s eyes darted about the street. ‘Er, no, don’t bother. I’ll probably go back to Mum and Dad’s if I’m still feeling like this. And it’s probably best if you steer clear of Dad.’
Derek ran a hand through his hair and forced a chuckle. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right about that one. Well, I’ll pop round sometime next week and maybe take you out for that Indian.’
‘Sure, Derek. Thanks for the present. I really must be going now. I feel awfully shaky. Bye-bye.’ She began to push the door closed but Derek stopped her with his hand.
‘I’ve missed you, Peggy, you know that, don’t you? I’ve never stopped after all these years.’ His puppy dog eyes implored her to respond positively.
‘I . . .’ Uncertainty crossed her face. ‘I have to go. Bye, Derek.’
She shut the door, secured it with the chain, and made her way upstairs.
In the kitchen of her grubby, run-down flat, she went to the front window and tweaked the net curtain back.
There, sitting on the bench below, was Derek.
She sighed and let the curtain fall back into position.
She really shouldn’t have taken the present.
Sitting at her fold-out table, she unwrapped the small parcel. Inside the paper was a velvet-covered box, with the name of a Hatton Garden jeweller. Nestling inside was a beautifully engraved heart-shaped golden locket. She removed it and opened the small clasp.
Peggy,
In my heart, always.
Derek
She put her head in her hands and chastised herself. What have you done?! Why, after all the unfortunate trouble she’d experienced with Derek years ago, had she ever gone to the pub to see him?
She tried to analyse her decision.
He had always been kind to her, no doubt about it.
The thing that had marked Derek out from the countless other men in her life was the respect he’d shown her.
Dozens of teenage boys spent their time trying to get into her underwear, but she’d always sensed that Derek genuinely loved her company.
The way he used to ‘bump into her’ on their walks to school had been sweet, and to be adored so completely was unquestionably very flattering.
But the problem was that she had never really fancied him.
Had she led him on all those years ago? Maybe. Either way, it certainly didn’t excuse bricks being thrown through windows.
When she had seen him in the chip shop, she had been impressed by his remarkable career development.
That, coupled with his beaming smile and swoosh of thick hair, had piqued her interest. However, this locket all but confirmed he was still infatuated with her.
And, if she was honest, she would never feel the same.
And why on earth did he still insist on calling her by that silly school nickname?
She knew she had to cut him out, again. This time for good.
She replaced the locket, then opened a kitchen drawer and hid the box at the back of it. She returned to the window. The bench was empty.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Darling, where are you?’
She left the kitchen and made her way to the small bedroom. The curtains were drawn.
‘You were ages.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Who was it?’
She slipped off her robe.
‘Oh, no one. An old friend,’ she said as she sank into the warm bed and his embrace.