Lonely Teardrops (2008) (25 page)

They’d had one or two small gigs in pubs and clubs and the like, at first earning nothing beyond their supper, but their biggest booking so far was at a dance at the Cooperative Rooms in Salford on a Saturday night in early November. Their hard work seemed at last to be paying off, as they were well received and came away with real money in their pocket, a fiver each no less. The lads thought this much more fun than working in a boring factory, and far more profitable.

This success was followed by another and another, till soon they had a rush of bookings which meant the band was working most weekends, sometimes with the odd gig during the week too. Harriet didn’t mind the fact there was no routine, no pattern to their days except sleep, eat, practice and play in the gigs. It thrilled her to think she was part of something momentous.

Not that this was exactly the big time they’d expected or at least hoped for, and there was no sign of any talent scout so there seemed little chance yet of the band actually cutting a record deal. When Harriet had asked Vinny why this was, he was irritated by her question, pointing out there were any number of skiffle groups and rock bands in Manchester alone, not counting the rest of the country.

‘You think it’s easy?’ he snapped. ‘You do it then,’ and he flung his guitar at her and stalked off in a rage. She never asked him again.

But the pay was good, coming in regularly, and they began to get themselves a name, even a fan club of sorts. Kids had money to spend. Dancing and going to gigs was the way they liked to spend it.

Girls would scream at the boys as they played, just as if they were Elvis or Tommy Steele or someone really famous. There was always a gang of avid fans following them around, asking where the next gig was going to be. Neither Bruno nor Duffy ever missed out on a chance to mingle with the girls, dancing and smooching, drinking and smoking with them just the moment they finished playing.

Harriet kept a close eye on Vinny, but so far he’d shown no inclination to do the same. He seemed to have eyes only for her, which was deeply flattering, although admittedly he was often so stoned he could hardly see straight, let alone show any interest in other girls.

However much Harriet might deny she was in love with him, she was, in fact, completely and utterly besotted. She found him fascinating, very different from any other boy she’d ever met. There was an edge to Vinny Turner, which, in her present mood, she found compelling and exhilarating. She relished the aura of danger which emanated from him, and if that led her to taking risks, so be it.

Harriet was only too aware that her sense of self worth was low. Shelley was constantly telling her as much, nagging her about not allowing herself to turn into a door mat for Vinny to wipe his feet on.

But she didn’t care. She wanted to hurt herself, to do something,
anything
, which caused more pain than discovering she no longer had a mother. She needed to shut out the memory that she’d been thrown out and rejected, even by the boy who claimed to adore her.

Fortunately they now made enough money to stop sleeping on cardboard in the old warehouse, and could afford to book themselves into small hotels and B & B’s. Harriet found them places to stay and made sure their landladies got paid, usually up front, to keep them sweet. It made more sense for Vinny and Harriet to share a room, as it was cheaper, Harriet decided, ever practical.
 

‘You’re a fool.’ Shelley told her.

‘So what? I like him, he’s fun.’

‘Vinny Turner is totally wrapped up in himself. He’s a taker, not a giver.’

‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. He’s very giving, and loving. Anyway, it’s my life, what business is it of yours?’

Shelley shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’

Harriet enjoyed the feeling of being safely cuddled up to Vinny in a warm bed. She liked the sensation of waking up with him sprawled beside her, always ready to make love to her the minute he woke whether it was breakfast time or late afternoon.

Shelley was wrong. He wasn’t selfish at all, but kind and good to her.

One day he took her out shopping to some of the best shops in Manchester: Kendals and Lewis’s, and some smart little boutiques in St Anne’s Square. Vinny generously treated her to a couple of sleek sheath dresses, quite short as they came to just above her knees, plus an A-line blue taffeta dress with an empire waist for evenings. Harriet bought herself a new pair of blue jeans, some stretch pants with stirrups that went under her feet to pull them tight, bags, shoes, and a couple of cool new blouses in a flimsy see-through fabric. She felt so chic and stylish.

Vinny bought himself an Italian style suit and several silk shirts and ties, really cool and trendy so that he looked like a mod, putting an end to the Teddy Boy image for good. He might only play in a cheap little band, but he looked a million dollars, so sexy!

When they’d finished shopping he took her to lunch in a trendy little pub where a jukebox played loud music and they were served chicken and chips in a basket.

He said they deserved to celebrate the band’s success, and the fact that national service had been abolished so he wouldn’t have to risk losing his freedom, or her.

Freedom, Harriet thought, was what this was all about. Oh, and didn’t she just love it?

The band were performing one evening at The Hare & Hounds on Broad Street. It was not exactly the Ritz and due to be closed soon as it awaited demolition. Harriet had accepted the booking because money seemed to be going out faster than it was coming in, and she really felt they needed to take everything on offer until they had some savings behind them. Vinny did not agree, and he grumbled and muttered and bitterly complained as the lads tuned up and prepared to go on.

‘We should be appearing at the Plaza, or Belle Vue, not some tuppenny-ha’penny flea pit.’

‘Smile,’ Shelley said. ‘Or you’ll frighten away the punters.’

As usual, Harriet found herself a spot right at the back where she could watch in peace without disturbing the audience. She crossed her fingers, praying Vinny would behave himself and not go stalking off in a temper as he was wont to do when in a bad mood.

She glanced around, trying to assess how many people were present - little more than twenty or thirty, she thought and most of them were busy talking, paying little attention to the lads playing their hearts out on the small stage. She felt sorry for them, knowing how much effort they put into these performances. There was perfunctory applause at the end of the first number and then Shelley came on to sing, which perked up the men’s attention no end.

Shelley was wearing the shortest skirt Harriet had ever seen, scarcely skimming her bottom, and a daringly low neckline. No wonder a reverent silence had fallen over the assembled drinkers, although it had little to do with the quality of her singing despite it being excellent, as always.

Harriet shook her head in despair. It wouldn’t please Vinny if Shelley got all the adulation and attention, and, judging by the applause which followed, that’s exactly what was happening. She couldn’t help but smile though as she watched the intent expressions on the faces of the audience, all whistling and cheering, begging Shelley for an encore.

It was then that Harriet noticed one man who wasn’t even looking at the stage, let alone joining in the applause. He too was scanning the crowd, looking all round him as if searching for someone. Her heart gave a loud thump as she recognised Steve, his gaze fixing on hers at exactly the same moment.
 

Oh, lord, he was coming over. He began to weave his way towards her between the tables.

Harriet often thought about Steve, particularly at night when she lay curled up alone in some anonymous hotel room, wondering where Vinny was, what he was doing, or with whom. She would dream up scenarios of what might have happened if Nan hadn’t given her that devastating news, if Joyce hadn’t kicked her out, or if she hadn’t been attacked by that gang or Vinny hadn’t come to her rescue. Steve had always been her friend. They’d been together since their school days, and she missed him badly.
 

The next instant he was standing before her, a great big grin on his face, and Harriet couldn’t help but smile back.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, not knowing what else to say.

‘I said I’d come and see the band, didn’t I? I’ve been keeping a look-out for one of their gigs, is that the right word?’

Harriet agreed that it was. She cast a quick glance in the direction of the stage, hoping Vinny wouldn’t notice her talking to Steve; then again, seeing her with another bloke might make him jealous and appreciate her all the more.

‘It’s good of you to come, but you must think this a bit third rate, after the kind of shows you see with your college friends.’

Steve frowned. ‘Don’t be daft. You know I’m not the sort to go to the Philharmonic or watch Shakespeare. I’m going to teach maths and geography, not be a professor. I think they’re great.’ He turned to listen for a moment, then asked. ‘Which one’s Vinny?’

Harriet casually pointed him out, not wanting to make too much of it.

‘I liked the way they played
Red River Rock
, it had a real beat to it.’

‘Thanks, I’ll tell Vinny you said that. He’ll be pleased.’

‘So, what are you doing with yourself these days? Where are you working now?’

Harriet didn’t quite know how to answer this, except with the truth. ‘I work for Vinny. I – I help with the band.’ It sounded so inadequate, put like that.

His eyebrows climbed in surprise. ‘You mean you manage them, do all the bookings, and promotions and stuff? Are they so successful?’

Harriet shook her head, her cheeks flushed, although there was a defiance in her tone. ‘Not exactly, and Vinny does all of that, but I look after the money side of things. And I look after him, of course.’

There was a small silence while Steve absorbed this. ‘Right,’ he said, sounding thoughtful. ‘I see.’

Would she have found the courage to do something more worthwhile with her life if she’d stayed in Champion Street? Harriet wondered. She might have gone to college too, if she’d been clever enough, or at least stuck at her secretarial course. Maybe then Steve wouldn’t have dumped her, illegitimate or not.
 

Was she happy trailing after the band and sticking by Vinny? Where
was
she going? What was she doing with her life?

Harriet swallowed, staried unseeing at The Scrapyard Kids as they tuned up for their next number. And would she have been any happier if she was still waiting for Steve back home in Champion Street? She might have felt safer, but that wasn’t quite the same thing, was it? In any case, he’d changed, and not simply in appearance. He seemed more assured, more mature somehow. No doubt he’d found himself a ‘nice’ girl by this time, at that fancy college he attended, someone classy to spend his life with, if only to please his flipping mother. She could see that he was used to hanging around with a different crowd these days. He proved it with his next words.

‘He looks a bit wild.’

‘What?’

‘The way he strums that guitar, as if he’s beating the hell out of it. I hope he doesn’t treat you like that.’

Harriet was incensed. ‘Why would you imagine that he would? Anyway, what’s it got to do with you how he treats me?’

‘Because I believe you’ll regret ever getting involved with him, if I know you as well as I think I do. You’re wasting your life hanging around with the likes of Vinny Turner, Harriet.’

‘Why are people always so anxious to tell me what to do with my life, always so condemning and critical of everything I do? You sound just like Joyce.’

‘No I don’t, but I can see that he’s trouble, with a capital T.

 
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Harriet fumed. ‘He’s lovely, is Vinny, if you want to know. Really kind and generous, buys me clothes and everything.’

Steve gave her a look of utter disdain. ‘I can’t believe you actually said that. I find it hard to accept that you’d settle for being some guy’s plaything, being bought presents and such. Why would you think so little of yourself?’

Harriet felt stung by his words, could feel herself growing all hot and bothered. ‘If you’re implying they were gifts for services rendered, you can just take that back.’

‘I didn’t!’ Now it was Steve’s turn to blush as a stain of colour flooded right up to his hair line. ‘I just think you’re perfectly capable of getting a good job of your own, of building a life for yourself. The independent-minded Harriet I once knew would never have agreed to being some chap’s pampered pet.’

‘I’m not a pampered pet!’ Harriet raged, ‘and you can keep your comments to yourself.’ She knew she was making too much of this, was dangerously close to tears, but couldn’t seem to help herself. Inside her head a small voice was screaming,
He’s right, but it’s too late to do anything about it now!

Too much had happened since Steve Blackstock had been the love of her life. He’d made it very clear that he was no longer interested in her as a girl friend, so why even bother about what he thought of her? It was too late to turn back the clock. What was the point in remembering how much she’d adored him? His parents had disapproved and he hadn’t stood by her. He’d made it clear he hated her. For heavens sake, she even hated herself. She was no longer the innocent young virgin Steve fondly remembered. She’d given herself to Vinny now.