Chapter 23
‘Well, did he turn up?’
Six pairs of expectant eyes gazed at Freddy.
Freddy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Todd, I really don’t. If he did, he didn’t make himself known to me, but they do that sometimes. I’ll give him a ring tomorrow morning.’
A chorus of cursing rang out from the band members.
Lulu and Sorcha squeezed their respective men’s hands in a show of support.
‘Don’t get downhearted, lads. Even if he didn’t show, there’s no reason why he wouldn’t turn up at a gig next week. Come on, what can I get you to drink?’
‘Beers all round, I think,’ Todd answered.
‘And gins for the girls, Freddy,’ said Lulu.
Freddy stood up and made his way to the bar.
‘I dunno.’ Todd lit up a cigarette. ‘I always said I wasn’t sure about Freddy. Maybe we should be looking for another manager. He keeps saying he’ll get us a deal, but most of the big boys have turned us down.’
‘Give your man a break, Todd,’ said Con. ‘He’s doing his best. Besides, maybe it’s us, our music. Maybe we’re not after being as great as we think we are.’
‘Bollocks, Con! We may have been a bit rough around the edges a few weeks ago, but now we’re shit-hot!’
‘And who has helped us tighten up? Why, your man Freddy, that’s who,’ murmured Con.
‘Boys, boys, come on now. There’s no point in fighting amongst yourselves,’ said Lulu.
‘Yeah, peace, man. It’s all cool. Anyone want a drag?’ Ian smiled beatifically and waved his joint in the air.
‘No thanks. Where’s Derek?’ asked Todd.
‘Last time I saw him he was heading for the bogs. Right miserable so-and-so he’s been tonight,’ said Ian.
It was true. Derek had been nothing short of morose all evening.
‘Woman trouble, no doubt,’ said Todd as Freddy arrived back with a tray of drinks. ‘He’s always been a bit . . . sensitive in that department. Anyway.’
‘Cheers,’ said Freddy brightly, raising his glass to his lips. No one else responded. ‘Come on, lads. No one said the path to fame and fortune was going to be easy. I told you it might take some time.’
‘Freddy’s right,’ said Lulu. ‘You’ve got to keep believing in yourselves. Otherwise, why should anyone else?’
Derek slunk back to the table. He had large grey rings under his eyes, which themselves were bloodshot and angry. When he sat down, the mood at the table, already low, plummeted through the floor. Lulu made a face at Todd, and gestured to Derek with her eyes. Todd nodded.
‘Come on, Derek, let’s go and get some fresh air.’
Derek failed to respond. Todd put an arm around him and practically had to lift him from the bar stool.
Outside, Todd lit up a cigarette. ‘So,’ he muttered, taking a puff, ‘what’s up with you?’
Derek didn’t respond.
‘It’s not to do with that Peggy, is it?’
Derek’s pale cheeks filled with colour.
‘It is, isn’t it? Did she tell you where to get off?’
Derek remained silent.
‘Honestly, Derek, you’re an idiot! You’ve had a thing about her since you were thirteen. Haven’t you got the message yet? I mean, she’s an attractive girl, sure, but nothing spectacular. Believe me, there are plenty more where she came from.’
‘What would you know about her? She’s the most beautiful, kind, gentle girl in the world.
There’ll never be another like her, never!
’ Todd had always thought his cousin a sweet little fellow, but tonight, Derek was manic.
‘We had our problems in the past, but she came to see the band play. Why would she do that unless she loved me?’ Derek hit the brick wall of the pub with an open palm.
‘She took the necklace I bought her. She wouldn’t have done that unless she wanted me. It just doesn’t make sense!’
‘Perhaps she was being polite?’ Todd offered.
‘Shut up, Todd. I know her!’ Derek looked up at his cousin’s bemused face, teeth gritted.
‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Calm down.’ Todd took a large drag on his cigarette. ‘Even if she is some sort of goddess, Derek, surely she can’t be worth this awful state you’re in?’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Just leave it, will you?’
‘All right, I’m sorry.’
They stood silently for a while, taking in the night air.
‘It’s not her, you know.’
Todd looked round at Derek. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s him.’
‘Who’s “him”?’
‘This man she’s seeing. She’d have said yes to me if it wasn’t for him. He’s turned her head. He’s bad for her.’
‘Are you trying to say that you asked Peggy to marry you and she refused?’
Derek nodded.
‘Aha, now it all becomes clear. She turned you down because she has another boyfriend?’
‘Yes, but she doesn’t love him, I know she doesn’t.’ Derek shook his head adamantly.
Todd was beginning to feel out of his depth. ‘I’ve said it before, mate, when we make it – which we will – women will be queuing up to date you. You’ll forget all about Peggy!’
‘You don’t get it. Nobody gets it. The whole point of the band is to impress her.’ Derek stared at Todd intensely. ‘Without her, I’m nothing.’
Todd shifted about uncomfortably. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say that, Del. You’re a bloody good guitarist for one thing!’ He laughed heartily, but Derek remained stony-faced, his mind a million miles away. ‘Anyway, let’s drop it now. Coming back in for a beer?’
Derek shook his head. ‘No. I’m going home.’
He spun on his heel and sunk his hands into his pockets. As he walked away, Todd could hear him mumbling to himself. ‘It makes no sense. No sense . . .’
Todd watched his cousin march off into the distance, stubbed out his cigarette on the wall, and went back inside.
Brad picked up the telephone on his desk and dialled Freddy Martin’s number. This was a call he’d enjoy making. The line rang twice before it was answered.
‘Freddy, Brad here.’
‘And where did you get to last night?’
‘As a matter of fact I was there. Apologies for not making contact but I had to rush off early.’
‘No worries. What did you think?’
‘Of The Fishermen?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I thought they have definite potential. Which is why I want to offer them a deal.’
‘I see.’ Even though he was trying to play it cool, Brad detected both relief and joy in Freddy’s voice.
‘They need work, Fred, and time. And a lot of money.’ Brad rocked on his desk chair as he recalled the performance. ‘The thing that sold them to me was that second number, “Can Someone Tell Me Where She’s Gone?”’
‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ Freddy replied.
‘It’s got Christmas Number One written all over it, Fred.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’
Freddy wasn’t giving anything away, as Brad expected. ‘Tell you what, that bass player is something special. What a voice.’
‘Con Daly. He wrote that song with Todd Bradley.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s another reason why I’m interested. Metropolitan would want all publishing rights to their songs.’
‘Hold on a minute, Brad. If you’re saying you want to offer my boys some kind of a deal, why don’t we get together next week sometime? Thrash things out over lunch?’
‘Okay. Name the day.’
‘Would Wednesday suit?’
‘Fine by me. Drop by the office at one. I’ll book a table somewhere close by.’
‘Great. See you then.’
‘Sure. Cheers, Freddy.’ Brad put the telephone down as Helen appeared in the doorway. He beckoned her in.
‘I’ve called a solicitor and made an appointment for next Tuesday,’ she said. ‘I gave him an idea of what we had in mind and he’s going to have some sort of basic contract drawn up that we can fiddle around with.’
‘Good.’ Brad tapped his biro on the top of the desk.
‘The sooner we sort out the legal details, the sooner we can start paying those outstanding bills.’ Helen looked down at the mess on Brad’s desk. ‘And start implementing some organisation around here.’ She picked up a black-and-white photograph lying on the top of a precarious pile. ‘Who is this?’
‘The group I want to sign. They’re called The Fishermen. What do you think of them?’
Helen studied the photograph. ‘They look fine.’ She was just about to put the photo down when, from under one of the gleaming pageboy haircuts, a familiar face caught her eye. Glancing at the bottom of the photo, she read, ‘Todd, Con, Ian and Derek are The Fishermen.’
Brad watched her as she swayed slightly.
‘You okay, Helen?’
‘I’m fine, just fine.’ She placed the photo back on the desk. ‘Have . . . have you called their manager yet?’
‘Yes. We’re meeting next Wednesday. As long as you’re happy with the figures I’m working on, then I’ll put the offer to him over lunch.’
Helen had regained her composure. ‘I’m sure we’ll be able to come up with something. As we know, you’re the one with the nose for talent. I’ll see you later.’ She offered him a strange little smile and left the room.
The following Wednesday, Helen waited in an agony of tension for Brad to return from his lunch with Freddy Martin, The Fishermen’s manager.
She hardly dared look too eager, after all she’d said about keeping costs low for the time being, but, truth be known, if The Fishermen had wanted four times what she and Brad had agreed to offer them, Helen would have capitulated.
And all for the look on Con Daly’s face when Brad introduced her as a director of Metropolitan Records .
. . He had held all the power in their former lives.
She would have done anything for him. But now, the tables had turned.
Her value was not determined by the gaze of Con Daly.
That pleased her, perhaps more than she had anticipated.
To stop herself from thinking on what Brad and Freddy were talking about, Helen picked up the telephone and dialled Tony’s number. She’d been unable to get hold of him for the past few days and he still didn’t know her news.
‘Hello?’
‘Tony, it’s me, Helen.’
‘Helen, hello.’ He sounded harassed.
‘How are you?’
‘Okay, okay. You?’
‘Very well. I have news, Tony. You are speaking to the almost-fifty-per-cent-partner of Metropolitan Records.’
‘What?’
Helen quickly ran through the events of the past week.
‘Wow, Helen, that’s amazing! Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. It’s not going to be a signed-and-sealed deal until next week, though, but I don’t think anything will go wrong.’
‘I think you’ve made a very shrewd investment. Brad knows what he’s talking about when it comes to music. Blimey, Helen, at this rate you’ll be a tycoon before you’re twenty-one!’
‘I do hope so, Tony,’ she said seriously.
‘I presume this means we won’t be seeing you back in my classroom when the new term begins?’
‘It does.’
‘I’ll miss you. I’ve lost my best pupil.’
‘Well, it’s thanks to you that this opportunity has presented itself. So, I was going to suggest that next week, after I’ve signed the contracts, I take you out to dinner to celebrate. I owe you a lot, Tony, really.’
‘You owe me nothing, sweetheart. All I did was give you a little bit of confidence.’
‘Whatever, I’d still like to treat you. Why don’t we meet at Kettner’s at eight on Thursday?’
‘I see you’re getting to know all the “in” places to eat already,’ he teased. ‘Next Thursday would be perfect as my lady’s going away for a few days.’
‘Then I look forward to it.’
‘So do I. Bye, sweetheart.’
‘Bye, Tony.’