Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Only one more performance to go. Suzie couldn’t quite believe it.
She’d completed four nights on stage without any major incidents, and the audience was lapping everything up.
It wasn’t just her alone, singing her heart out, who’d made everyone’s evening; the other five acts were also getting plenty of love.
The atmosphere tonight had been particularly electric; people were up dancing in the aisles and singing along as if their lives depended on it.
Juice had closed the show to rapturous applause, just like every other night, and Jake had picked her up and twirled her around as he came off stage.
She’d managed to avoid going out for a drink with him one-on-one, but it was about to get trickier.
There was a party in the bar next door when the tour ended the following night, and she had no doubt he’d still be trying hard to tick her off his list.
Suzie reached into the mini fridge in her dressing room for one of the bottles of chilled Prosecco she’d put in there earlier and grabbed a few packets of peanuts from the shelf.
She was a little hot and sweaty, but there was no point getting changed out of her stage outfit as her guests would be here any minute.
She’d invited Carol and Teresa, universally known as Car and Ter, over for a drink when they’d bumped into each other backstage the previous night.
They’d all agreed they’d rather have a cosy chat in her dressing room than brave one of the nearby bars, where they probably wouldn’t be able to hear each other anyway.
It was a far cry from the old days, where a raggle-taggle group of anyone who fancied it would hit the nearest bar or club straight after coming off stage, and party for most of the night.
But like her, the girls from Peaches were taking the tour seriously and not caning it between shows, or they’d never be able to perform.
She was calling them girls, but they must both be in their early sixties by now.
She remembered thinking they were extremely sophisticated and cool when she’d first met them, and definitely a couple of years older than her.
Both were petite, but Carol was dark and Teresa blonde.
They’d been dubbed the alternative Pepsi and Shirlie.
When she’d got to know them better, she’d realised they were as clueless as she was, and not at all scary.
They’d certainly been enthusiastic adopters of the up-all-night outings.
A sudden memory flooded her senses of a late-night lock-in at some spit and sawdust pub near the Kent coast. She and Christian had treated the regulars to their party piece, a drunken duet on Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You Babe’ with Peaches as their impromptu backing band.
The opening line, ‘They say we’re young, and we don’t know…’, slurred beyond belief, played on a loop in her head. The lyrics always had real meaning for her. She and Christian might have been young, but she most definitely knew; she’d known from the moment she met him.
They’d shared a microphone on the pub’s makeshift stage, bodies touching all the way from their thighs to their faces, sweaty skin pressed together as they mangled the words, laughing and sharing a kiss in the musical breaks.
He’d tasted of cigarettes and cheap red wine, a combination that still had the power to make her go weak at the knees.
Not that she’d encountered it much in the last forty years. Panos, her ex, although a smoker, was, like many Greeks, a beer drinker, as had been the couple of guys she’d had meaningless encounters with since her divorce.
The sour smell of spilt beer and the impenetrable cloud of cigarette smoke that hung in the air had been a permanent feature of her youth.
Her clothes and hair always stank of them, and her mum constantly moaned about the pile of washing she had to deal with when Suzie started gigging.
The ban on smoking in pubs had been a welcome improvement, but it had come too late for her singing career.
Not that she’d been averse to the odd cigarette herself back then, especially when she’d been drinking, although she’d never admit it to her boys. She was always on at Kostas to give up smoking, but for him coffee and cigarettes were a Greek way of life.
Marlborough Lights had been most of her friends’ weapon of choice back then.
Christian used to tease her about smoking a brand called OPs, Other People’s.
It wasn’t that she was mean; she’d just never been a real smoker, and to buy a packet would have been some sort of admission that she was.
Although it was a filthy habit, she had to admit she’d found it weirdly sexy when the men they hung out with blew smoke rings at women they fancied.
Christian had been an expert at smoke rings, able to produce a string of perfect circles at a moment’s notice.
Unfortunately, not all of them were directed at her.
But even the occasional puff was off the table when she’d discovered she was pregnant with Giannis, and she’d never had the urge to take it up again. It was something best left in the past, along with rah-rah skirts and shoulder pads.
Suzie arranged the glasses on the table and put the peanuts in a couple of bowls.
Post gig, the dressing room felt empty and sterile, drained of the noise and warmth of the concert, and she was pleased she’d invited people over.
She’d encouraged Giannis to go out again tonight and meet another old friend in the city.
There was really very little for him to do as her manager.
Frank had all the practical stuff covered, as she’d known he would.
Her son had been her comfort blanket on the tour, a little taste of home, but he’d needed a break too, and it had gladdened her heart to see him and Kat so relaxed together.
Thankfully, she’d managed to avoid any more intimate conversations with Frank.
Several times she’d seen him hovering in the corridor, like the spectre at the feast, lurking by the door as if he wanted to speak to her, while she entertained friends who’d come to watch the show.
It couldn’t be anything that important, surely, as he’d have entered and said what was on his mind.
But whenever Frank appeared, however hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease she’d had a couple of nights ago.
It was all going so well, almost too well.
But that was a silly way to think. Why was she courting trouble?
She needed to enjoy every moment of the experience while she could.
It might never happen again. The thought made her sad.
Having had a tiny taste of fame once, she could appreciate it all so much more this time around.
A knock on the door told her the girls had arrived. Suzie flipped the cork on the Prosecco and shouted to them to come in.
By the time they’d moved onto the second bottle, the three of them had exchanged potted life histories and spilt the highlights of the last forty years.
Carol was a doting grandmother of two, still with Ray, the sound engineer she’d met on the road, while Teresa, after a disastrous early marriage, had realised that she’d always preferred women, and was happily settled in the Devon countryside with a head teacher called Bev and three dogs.
Suzie had to smile to herself at this piece of news.
Teresa had been the one that all the boys fancied, the dinky blonde with the broderie anglaise mini dresses, fabulous legs and Debbie Harry hair.
She’d had to counsel many a lad who’d got his hopes up and been dismissed out of hand by Teresa.
If only she’d had a crystal ball back then, she could have told them they were wasting their time.
Cracking open the third bottle, Suzie glanced up at the door and noticed Frank was there, yet again. She beckoned him in and turned to Carol and Teresa in turn.
‘Are either of you hungry? I’m bloody starving, and I could murder a gyros.’
Carol took a large swig from her glass.
‘Yeah, those peanuts haven’t done a lot. I’d love one too, please.’
Teresa put both thumbs up. ‘Me three.’
Frank was now by Suzie’s side.
‘Frankie, you couldn’t be a darling, could you, and rustle us up some gyros?’
It was a risky move, and his face clouded over for a minute. Four Proseccos on an empty stomach had loosened her up a little, but she didn’t care. He was their promoter, wasn’t he, so he should be interested in their wellbeing, and that included their stomachs.
She had to hand it to him, he recovered well.
‘Yeah, I’m sure that’s possible. Chicken or pork?’
Suzie spoke first. ‘Oooh, pork for me every time. I love a bit of pork.’
Carol managed to keep a straight face. ‘Me too.’
Teresa put one finger on her chin and pursed her lips.
‘I’ll have chicken please; I’ve really gone off pork.’
The terrible urge to giggle at Frank’s expense threatened to overwhelm all three of them. For a moment he seemed unsure whether they were taking the mickey, and Suzie turned away from his confused face lest she lose it. But the man’s smiling mask was soon back.
‘I’ll go and sort it. Anything for you lot. You’re my favourite girls on the tour.’
They were the only girls on the tour, but it wasn’t worth pointing out, thought Suzie.
‘Thanks.’
As soon as he was out of the door, all three of them burst into laughter. It was proper side-splitting stuff, with tears streaming down their faces. After a few minutes of hilarity, Carol leapt to her feet.
‘Please stop it! I’ve got a stitch.’
Suzie flapped her hand, unable to speak as another wave of giggles tore through her.
‘Did you see his face?’
Teresa took a couple of deep breaths.
‘Unfortunately, yes. Treating him as a glorified delivery boy won’t go down well. We’ll probably pay for that somehow tomorrow.’
Carol sat back down in her chair.
‘He hasn’t got any more pleasant over the years, has he?’
Suzie shook her head.