6 #2
‘Well, OK then, so long as that’s clear,’ she said, mollified. ‘And don’t get me wrong, we weren’t whiter-than-white little plaster saints. We all smoked a little weed back then, but it was nothing excessive. Anyway, where were we? Oh yeah, the band putting up with Monty calling the shots.’
She cradled her drink, her rings chinking against the glass.
‘The way Racey told it, the boys discussed how things were going, and the three of them – Racey, Artie and Micky – all agreed that once they’d got established and had another hit or two under their belts, that they’d ease Monty out and take over the reins for themselves.
As they figured it, by then they’d have their own money to splash, and they could get back artistic control of their music and sound.
Book their own studio time and mix songs how they wanted to, and Monty would be out. ’
‘I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t include Glen in that line-up,’ Lyssa said.
Monica gave an elaborate shrug of her turquoise-clad shoulders.
‘Well, no, you couldn’t expect the bloke to agree to that, could you?
’ she said, clearly determined to be fair.
‘Almost right from the start, Monty laid her claim to him, and he didn’t exactly fight her off!
’ She gave a little gurgle of laughter at the thought.
‘Well, you’ve seen pictures of her – blonde, lovely, loaded, posh, what working-class bloke from the slums was going to make a fight of it if she dragged him off to her bed? ’
‘Weren’t the others jealous at all?’
‘Probably!’ She gave a big grin, then shrugged.
‘But Racey would have bitten my head off if I’d ever suggested that he was.
Though, for my liking, he always protested too much about her, you know what I mean?
Men don’t talk down about a beautiful woman unless they’re a bit obsessed with her as well, do they?
Not in my experience they don’t. Of course, I was safely married to him by then, so I wasn’t that worried – and she was dead, of course,’ she added with brutal matter-of-factness.
‘But even so, her ghost lingered. He still talked about her a lot, years after she’d gone, and with a passion that was genuine hatred all right, but even so .
. . I didn’t really like it, you know what I mean? ’
‘Yes, I think so. A living flesh-and-blood rival is one thing, but it must have been hard to compete with a beautiful dead girl,’ Lyssa mused. ‘Especially one who had developed a legend around her, like Monty did.’
‘Yeah, exactly – you’ve hit the nail on the head there, Lyssa.
You can tell you’re a writer.’ She nodded approvingly.
‘Racey always said Monty was the worst thing that happened to Glen and the band, but I never got over the feeling that if he could bring her back and replace me with her, he would. Just like that . . .’ She tried to snap her fingers but didn’t quite make it.
Lyssa found herself feeling rather sorry for the now tipsy older woman and wasn’t surprised that their marriage had ended in divorce.
No doubt Monica must often have wondered what would have happened if Monty had made a beeline for Racey instead of Glen.
And, like Lyssa, she must have suspected that Racey wouldn’t have fought her off either.
‘So, the band always intended to go their own way, once they’d made it?
’ Lyssa brought Monica back on track. She needed to get the bulk of her story down before Monica became too befuddled with Pimm’s to talk straight.
‘But Glen and Monty were still very much together when he died – and by then, it had been . . . what, four or five years? So what happened?’
Monica sighed. ‘They underestimated her, I guess,’ she said, beginning to sound a little weary now.
Lyssa was uncomfortably aware that her hostess was well into her seventies – and a tiny bit the worse for drink – and was worried that she might be tiring. ‘We can always wrap this up now if you like, and I come back another day?’ she offered gently.
‘What? No, you don’t want to have to track back down here.’ She waved a hand dismissively, indicating to her to carry on.
‘I don’t mind, honestly,’ Lyssa assured her.
‘No, no, I’m fine. My hair might be white but I’m not quite in my dotage yet. What else do you want to know?’ She made an effort to sit a little straighter and squared back her shoulders.
‘You said the band underestimated her. What do you mean by that?’
Monica gave a wide yawn and then apologised.
‘Sorry, don’t know where that came from!
Well, like you said, Monty was still in the picture right up until Glen died.
And by the way, that was a real shocker, I can tell you.
I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true.
Like I said, the boys didn’t really indulge in drugs much – perhaps that was the problem,’ she said, her voice sad now.
‘Glen wasn’t that savvy about pills and stuff like that and only indulged now and then.
He just didn’t realise he was overdoing it.
Anyway, none of us were expecting him to die like he did.
So young. It absolutely floored Monty, I can remember that much.
Even as a callow young girl, I could see she was devastated.
And so was Racey, in a different way, of course.
He and Glen were best mates, and he loved him like a brother.
Far better than Glen’s own flesh-and-blood brothers did, let me tell you.
To them Bannisters, Glen was just a walking pot of money.
When he died, all they cared about was getting their hands on his fortune.
It was Racey and the band who really mourned him. ’
Monica’s tone dropped a little now, as if remembering back to that day had sobered her.
‘I came home from school and went straight to Valerie’s house – the new one that Racey had bought for them.
I loved going there because it was so much nicer than Mum and Dad’s council house back on the estate.
Racey wasn’t still living with his parents, of course, he had his own place by then.
I used to love going with Valerie to Racey’s pad, especially because he had a pool and everything.
And all these famous people would saunter along for a party and a singalong.
Anyway . . .’ She took a fortifying breath and sighed.
‘That day, as soon as we walked into her mum and dad’s house, we knew something was up.
Racey’s mum had been crying, and she looked nervous about something.
You know, the way grown-ups did when they had to tell kids something unsavoury and didn’t really want to do it.
Anyway, she sat us down and told us that “Uncle Glen” – that’s how grown-ups back then always referred to close friends of the family, as aunty or uncle .
. . anyway, she just said that Uncle Glen had passed over.
At first, we didn’t really know what she meant, because we’d never heard that phrase before, but then Valerie’s dad put it much more clearly.
Of course, they never told us it was an overdose or anything – we only knew about that later, when it came out in the newspapers .
. . He just said that Glen had been taken very ill and had died suddenly.
Me and Valerie just cried our eyes out.’
Lyssa remained respectfully silent as a tear made its way down the older woman’s face.
Impatiently, Monica brushed it away with the palm of her hand and, with a visible effort, pulled herself together.
‘The next time we went round to Racey’s place, everything was so different.
Quiet. Sad. It had always been a habit for the rest of the band to go to Racey’s to drink and socialise and have fun – well, not Glen so much, because he and Monty had Monty’s Mansion – that’s what they all called their place, behind Monty’s back.
I thought that was a bit mean and petty, even as a kid.
I can’t for the life of me remember now what the real name of the place was.
It was just always sneeringly known as Monty’s Mansion. ’
‘I think it was called Evergreen,’ Lyssa put in quietly, glad that she remembered the name from her research.
For some reason she couldn’t have explained, it felt important to her that Amelia Montrose’s home should be given its true name – the name that the two lovers who had lived in it had given it.
Evergreen. Had they chosen it because they’d believed that their own love story would also remain evergreen?
If so, it only made the tragic end of their story all the more poignant.
‘Yeah, that’s it. Evergreen,’ Monica repeated prosaically.
‘Anyway, that’s where he died. Monty found him – you know the story around that, right?
She’d gone out with friend to a show and was back late.
Glen hadn’t wanted to go – he was tired after working in the studio all day.
And she found him . . . Well, gone. Poor woman – I can’t imagine it . . .’
Monica shook her head. ‘Let’s not talk about such sad things, eh?’ She forced her voice to become brighter, as if she could shake off the past that way. ‘Have another drink?’ She glanced at Lyssa’s still-full glass and grimaced.
‘I’m sorry if this is bringing back bad memories,’ Lyssa apologised. ‘We were talking about how Monty was still such a big part of the scene still, even though Racey and the others wanted rid of her.’