Trust Me (Beggar's Choice #2) (2 page)

“Not normally but our new stuff
would benefit from it.” I wonder about this and how much of a change they’re
making, because while they’re known for their quirky, rocking songs with
amazing melodies, they’ve always been such a male sound. I also wonder how much
of this shift in direction is down to Sid who suffered a much publicized
overdose eighteen months ago.

“How many dates?” I ask. I really
want to ask how much money they’re paying but that’s an awkward question in any
circumstance, and so I play the game and pretend that making music is more
important to me than paying my rent. Three years ago I wouldn’t have ever had
to pretend this.

“Thirty five, spread out over the
UK and Europe,” he replies. “Do you have any commitments, because we’ll be on
the road for a few months?”

“No, nothing that won’t get along
without me,” I say sadly, and again I feel Sid’s attention on me like a laser.

“Well we enjoyed meeting you,” he
drawls, patently insincere, and I pick up my coat. I can take a hint as well as
anyone. “We’ll talk to the other boys and call you one way or the other. We’ll
speak to you soon Nelly.”

I offer Bram a grateful smile as
he leaps up and helps me with my coat, and give Sid an outright glare for his
use of the hated name Nelly who just offers me in return an unrepentant smirk.
My reaction to him worries me enough that I won’t be sad if I don’t get this
job after all. There’s no doubt that we need the money but I can probably pick
up another job. I’m just worried that it won’t be enough money and in time, if
this doesn’t pan out. The thing about this job was that it fell into my lap
like an answer from heaven.

“Any last words for us?” comes
the low voice from Sid, and I look down at him with his blue eyes shining full
of attitude and I just think fuck it.

I’m still feeling the joy that
always courses through me when I sing and so grinning at him saucily I say.
“Please don’t call me Nelly, Mr Hudson, and as to whether you call me again–
whatever!” and then I waltz out of the room to the sound of his laughter which
is both rusty and contagious. It makes my heart hurt because it sounds
underused, while at the same time is so infectious that it makes me want to
laugh too. Looking back I see Bram staring at him in what looks very much like
amazement. Yes, this job could be more trouble than it’s worth.

Sid

When Nell leaves the room silence
falls for a second between Bram and I, and then he stirs and I smile because
he’s never, ever been comfortable with silences. If there’s a quiet patch you
can guarantee that Bram will fill it. “Fucking hell she could sing,” he
mutters, and I look at him and nod. Her voice was amazing. It was so strong and
had the purity and warmth of Karen Carpenter with a slight raspy undertone.
Coupled with her looks and the way that she dressed it made her an unusual and
mesmerising singer.

I hadn’t paid her any attention
when she first walked in, beyond being irritated. We’d had a shit day and both
Bram and I had been amazed at the amount of people that come to these things
and can’t actually sing. It had been like spending eight hours in the audition
process of The X Factor, without any light at the end of the tunnel. The amount
of groupies that had turned up on the other hand didn’t actually shock us at
all. So, when she’d come in I’d ignored her, hoping that she’d go away just as
quickly as she’d come, while I focused on yet another fucking text from Leah.
The bitch just doesn’t know when to quit, and as normal whenever her name pops
up on my phone I feel the usual mix of concentrated anxiety and affection that
I’ve always had for her, and don’t want to feel anymore.

Nell’s defiance and smart
attitude had distracted me instantly, but it was when she started singing that
all the angst drained out of me and I was transfixed instantly. When I looked
up and actually saw her I was hypnotised. She was utterly beautiful, with a
small, compelling face on which every feeling was telegraphed. Her expressions
and the way she moved that slight body made her someone that you couldn’t draw
your attention away from. She’d had a gamine quality to her and a sense of
innocence that drew me as much as it repelled me. I’d instantly resolved to
stay well away from her because the last time I felt like this was when I met
Leah, and I couldn’t do that again. It might kill me this time. Still I sigh,
because she’s fucking perfect for us.

“Her voice would mesh perfectly
with Charlie’s,” I say, thinking of my brother’s gravelly voice which would
underscore the purity of hers.

“I know,” Bram replies. “I think
she’s it don’t you?”

“You know she is. Not sure why
you peddled that bullshit about consulting the others. You know they’ll take
what we say.”

He stares at me for a second. “I
thought
you
might have objections.”

“Why?” I ask defensively.

He holds up his hands. “No reason
mate. Just the fact that you got a major hard on when she sang today, and it
might make it a bit embarrassing for you in the future when you’re on stage
with her, and you’re amongst real men that have actually learnt to control
themselves.”

“Fuck off,” I return pleasantly
and he laughs out loud.

Nell

Two hours later I’m still riding
on the feelings from the audition as I bang my way into our fourteenth floor
flat, gulping in air and smelling the strong smell of menthol which over the
last three years has become the scent of what passes for home to me. On that
thought I shout out. “I’m home.” The reply seems to take forever but eventually
I hear my mum’s voice from the kitchen as I take off my coat.

“We’re in here Eleanor.” I wince
– this is the reason that I don’t like to be called Eleanor.

Bursting into the dim kitchen I
smile exuberantly at the two women seated at the table. The smile fades
slightly when neither deign to return it, but I rally and brandish the carrier
bag. “Look what I’ve got,” I sing out, tipping the contents out onto the table.

Tapping her finger on the plastic
wrapped bundle of fillet steak, my mum finally looks at me which is a rare
occurrence nowadays. “Why are you wasting our money on this Eleanor?” she
finally says and all of my energy finally dies out of me at her harsh voice and
I sink into a chair. For a brief shining moment I’d felt young again but I can
hardly remember it now because at this precise moment I feel eighty years old.
Resisting the desire to enquire how any of the money I’d spent had actually
come from
her,
I swallow the tight feeling down and smile ingratiatingly
at her.

“I thought I’d spoil us mum,” I
say brightly. “Phil rang me on the way home and he’s offered me another jingle
so the rent will be paid for another month at least.”

There’s silence for a minute and
then she stares at me with no expression at all, and the other woman at the
table stirs languidly. “Where have you been Eleanor?” my mum finally enquires,
and I squirm because this tone never bodes well.

“Why?”

“Oh, just because Mrs McDonald
rang a few hours ago with a complaint. It seems that young William was sat
waiting for his violin lesson this afternoon only to find out that his teacher
couldn’t be bothered to turn up. I managed to calm her down and promised her a
free lesson, but it’s left me wondering where you’ve been all day and where
this money came from.”

Her voice is rising slightly now
and I wonder whether I’ve got this right and she’s actually implying that I’ve
turned to prostitution, or whether I’m imagining it. She stops and glares at me
breathing heavily and I sigh. I’m caught out and I’m too tired to find an
excuse.

“I went to an audition,” I
finally say slowly.

“For what?” snaps the reply after
a pregnant pause.

“Backing singer for a band going
on tour.” I brace myself for the explosion which right on cue arrives a second
later.

“Backing singer,” she screeches.
“Have you lost your mind Eleanor Slater? Have you forgotten what happened three
years ago or do you need reminding?”  Shaking my head sharply I go to
answer her but as normal she talks over me. “Eleanor you never fail to appal
me. Are you so wrapped up in the idea of fame that you’ll sacrifice what we’ve
got left? Was what we lost not enough to teach you a lesson last time?”

Rising to my feet I feel blood
rush into my face and my temper is sparking. “I know you’re upset mum but
there’s no need for you to level that at me. Haven’t I suffered enough or do
you need another pound of flesh?”

“How dare you,” she shouts, her
face reddening alarmingly.

“I dare,” I say levelly, trying
hard to maintain calm. It isn’t worth losing my temper because she doesn’t
listen to me at all. There’s only one person she listens to and as if on cue
Molly stirs again and raises a limp, white hand with perfectly manicured nails.

“Judy,” she says soothingly. “It
isn’t worth you getting so worked up. Think of your health.”

My mum stutters and something
twists inside what’s left of my heart as I watch her face transform into
affectionate love as she takes Molly’s hand and lowers herself to her chair.
“You’re right Molly love,” she says softly. “I’ve got to look after myself
after all because if I’m not here who’s going to look after you?”

I swallow hard.
What about me
?
I want to scream.
Who looks after me and who acknowledges that the person
who takes care of both of you is just me, all alone as ever
? Instead I
speak in a very calm voice. “I don’t want the fame mum. I’ve learnt my lesson
about that, but we do need the money. Your redundancy pay is almost gone.” She
has the grace to look ashamed at this because we all know that the money went
on a car for Molly, who is apparently too weak to use public transport. “The
rent needs to be paid and the next gas and electricity bill is the winter one
so it’s the big one. The music lessons and the session singing are fine but we
need more money. Backing singers on tour can earn up to £500 a night depending
on how big the band are. Just think what we could do with that money.”

Finally my mum stirs and not
looking at me she says in a low voice. “How did it go?”

I sigh. “I don’t know,” I say
finally. “I’m not sure it went too well.”

“Why not?” she asks sharply.
Apparently her objections have been overruled by the mention of the cash, and
we’re back to where we usually are, in that I’m in the wrong.

“Never mind,” I say firmly. “It
probably won’t pan out but if I put the word out I can probably get another job
like this quite quickly if I’m prepared to travel and stay away.”

Molly looks at me with the first
sign of animation I’ve seen in her in years. “Who was the band?” she asks in
her husky voice.

I stare at her for a second,
looking at her well cut hair and the new clothes that my mum had paid for out
of my money, and for a second I remember the desperate junkie that we’d
welcomed into the family years ago. Now, she looks like a model and I reflect
bitterly that all my hard work gets for me is home cut hair and second hand
clothes while it gets her everything, but I’ve learnt that this sort of
thinking gets me nothing but an imminent ulcer.

“Beggar’s Choice,” I say finally
and she smiles flat out, her cheeks reddening.

“Wow, they’re really hot Nell,
you’re a lucky girl.”

 I smile at her slightly
thinking once a groupie always a groupie. “Not really,” I finally say. The
audition has faded so far from my mind it’s like an event that happened twenty
years ago. I know I felt alive for the first time in years, but it’s like an
old person looking back on their youth. “I don’t think anything will happen
from this. I don’t think Sid Hudson was impressed.”

Her smile holds the faintest hint
of the malice that it always does. “That’s a shame Nell,” she says happily.
“Nothing happens in that band unless they all agree, and Sid and his brother
are very much the driving forces. I’ve heard that the new music is very much
under Sid’s direction. Apparently it’s brilliant but he’s changed since the
overdose, and now people are saying how focused he is and how he expects the
same from everyone. If he’s that demanding then he’s only going to want the
best, so I wouldn’t feel too bad babe that it’s not you.”

I flatten my lips against the
retort that needs to come out. If we get into an argument I know from bitter
experience whose side my mum will come down on. Instead I smile but it’s a
pathetic attempt and she knows it. She’s opening her mouth again, probably to
drown me in Sid Hudson facts gleaned from Heat magazine, when as if on cue my
phone rings and the screen lights up with an unknown number. Swallowing hard I
punch the button and mutter a hello only to hear the unmistakable deep tones of
Sid Hudson, the man himself.

“Good afternoon Nelly,” he
drawls. “If you’re still interested we’d like to offer you the backing singer
job. That’s if you haven’t had a much better offer since we saw you last.”
Sarcastic twat.

For a few seconds silence reigns
as I look at my mum and Molly. One wears a disapproving sour face, the other a
mask of disinterest. I know that if I take the job I’ll be away from them for
months on end, unable to come home to see them at all. I probably won’t get to
speak to them much on the phone either because of the time differences and
touring schedule, and I won’t be able to sort out their problems from so far
away. I’ll also be travelling in close confines with complete strangers, one of
whom interests me in a very dangerous way.

“I’d love to take the job,” I say
defiantly.

Two days later I stand outside a
massive house in Hampstead. I’m shivering which is from a combination of a
chilly wind gusting around my shoulders, and a bad case of nerves. I’m here
according to Bill the manager of Beggar’s Choice, because I’m going to meet the
two missing members of the band so that they can get a feel for me. Once that’s
done I can sign the contracts that he’s prepared for me, and then I’ll be an
official member of the Beggar’s Choice touring circus. Shivering again I take a
look at the sky above me which is an iron grey colour. It’s been a bad summer
but the weather has taken a really cold turn over the last couple of days and
it finally feels like we’re heading into autumn.

I huddle deeper into my coat
which is starting to look quite threadbare. Actually who am I kidding, the
bloody thing looked like one step beyond threadbare when I’d bought it in the
first place, and it’s never lost its fusty, charity shop smell. However, it’s
all we can afford at the moment – mum’s redundancy money has finally run out or
been spent by Molly, and with the bills mounting up a new coat is definitely
not on my horizon any time soon. This hadn’t stopped me from gazing enviously
at some girls on the bus today who seemed to be all shiny hair, beautiful boots
and lovely slouchy coats. They’d seemed carefree and dauntless in a way I don’t
think I can ever remember being. Even before the events of three years ago I
don’t think I ever felt that young. My dad had left us years ago when I was
little, and for as long as I can remember I’d had to have jobs and bear
responsibility for myself and my brother, but no, I stop that thought before
the tidal wave of regret hits me, and square my shoulders.
It is as it is
I say to myself with my well-worn catch phrase.
Just get on with it and
smile and take the money
. It’s this thought that makes me ring the doorbell
because Bill the manager is promising £850 a night which is rarer than rocking
horse shit as my dad used to say. Less and less bands take singers on tour with
them now, preferring to rely instead on backing tracks which are cheaper and
don’t require somewhere to sleep when on the road.

My thoughts are interrupted by
the door opening and then appearing to stick. “Fucking hell,” comes a muttered
response. “Charlie, this bloody door has warped again.” A slender arm appears
and then I blink as the slim figure of a beautiful redhead squeezes through the
tight opening. Spying me looking at her she smiles a big, gap toothed grin and
starts laughing. “Fucking thing,” she says and her laughter is so infectious
that I can’t help laughing too. “I’ll push from this side and then one of those
big, useless blokes in there can get off their arses and help too.”

“I’ll help.” I push my sleeves up
and setting my shoulder to the door, I start pushing.

“Oh no you don’t have to do
that,” she protests but just at that moment there’s a massive creak and the
door swings open, setting me off balance so that I fall through and land in an
undignified sprawl at someone’s big feet clad in battered, old Converse. I pan
my gaze up what seems like acres of long legs in faded, blue denim over what
looks like a set of tidy abs clad in a thin, navy sweater until I meet the
entertained stare of the last person I want it to be.

Sighing hard I mutter, “Good
morning Mr Hudson,” as he puts out a tanned, muscled arm to pull me to my feet.

“I’d like to make a joke about
falling for me but I don’t wish to appear clichéd,” he smirks.

“Perish the thought.”

“You don’t have to call him Mr
Hudson,” the redhead says, looking at us entertained. “Bloody hell the last
time he was called that he was up in court. You’ll give him the jitters.” 
She leans into him resting a hand on his side in her hilarity, and I watch in
awe as that slightly hard and distant expression of his melts into humour and
what looks a lot like love. Letting me go he swings his arm around her shoulder
and dips her until she shrieks.

“Don’t mention the court case,”
he says sotto voce, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve told you
we’ll get over the embarrassment of you soliciting. Just give it time honey.”

“Fuck off,” she shrieks and he
hugs her, burying his face in her shoulder. I shift slightly, feeling rather
uncomfortable and I have to admit a little disappointed. Molly had virtually
given me a 700 page essay on the band over the last couple of days and she
never mentioned Sid having a girlfriend, but there’s an obvious connection
between these two that speaks of love and history.
This is a relief
I
tell myself firmly. That spark I felt between us at the audition is bad. I
don’t need him or his attention being focused on me. My body shifting drags his
attention back to me and almost straightaway that hard, distant look slips back
into position. I sigh but I’m immediately diverted when I hear the unmistakable
gravelly voice of the lead singer of Beggar’s Choice.

“Any reason you’re feeling my
wife up in the hall?” the beautiful, blond man says as he comes up behind Sid
and the redhead and pulls her away from Sid.

“In the hall - is that a
euphemism?” Sid enquires with a smirk and dodges a punch from the redhead, who
I now recognise from various paparazzi shots and newspaper articles as
Charlie’s new wife. She’d come in for a lot of attention last year for being
the woman that tamed Charlie Hudson, although to my mind he doesn’t look so
much tamed, as just happy. Shrugging away from both of them she comes towards me
and draws me into a perfumed hug. I stiffen at first because I don’t remember
the last time someone hugged me and I’d forgotten how nice it feels, but then I
relax and hug her back. Looking up I catch Sid’s narrowed gaze on me and resist
the impulse to pull a face at him, turning instead back to the girl.

“You must be Nell,” she says.
“I’m Mabel, Charlie’s wife. I’m so pleased to meet you. Sid and Bram have been
raving about your voice for the last few days.”

“Really?” I arch my brow at Sid
who at least has the grace to look uncomfortable. “He didn’t display much
enthusiasm at the time.”

“Was he being a prick? I bet he
was being a prick,” she says in immediate commiseration and I gape at her
astounded for a second, before breaking into a laugh.

“Oh my God you have no idea.” I
gasp for breath while at the same time looking up at Sid’s arrested face. The
smile dies from my face and almost immediately he shifts his attention to
Mabel.

“Charming,” he mutters. “You’re
supposed to stick up for me at all times Mabes. Did you not read that bit in
the marriage contract?”

“I was too busy taking ‘obey’ out
of the vows,” she smirks, ruffling her husband’s blonde mane of hair
affectionately as he smooches her neck.

“I told you Mabes, he already
obeys you. There’s no need to make it official.”

“Only in the bedroom,” Charlie
drawls. He dodges his wife’s fist and coming towards me he too draws me into a
hug.
Oh my
I think
I’m hugging Charlie Hudson
. Sid scowls at me
and I return it before turning back to Charlie. “I cannot wait to hear you
sing,” he says and drawing me with him he turns down the hall gesturing to Sid
and Mabel to follow. “The others are waiting in the studio.”

Sid stops him by putting a hand
out. “Hang on a minute Charlie. Let me take Nelly’s coat for her and get her a
drink.”

“Oh no you don’t have to.” I’m
horrified at the thought of him handling my disgrace of a coat, but he draws me
away from Charlie who waves and mutters that he’ll see us in the studio.

“Don’t mention it Nelly.” He
bends sideways to whisper in my ear as he takes my wrist to steer me into a
huge, sparkling kitchen. “Fucking hell you’re freezing,” he scowls. I try to
draw away from him but he’s having none of it and his hand is so warm I almost
don’t want to let go. He reaches out his free hand and drifts a finger over one
of the holes in my sleeve and arches an eyebrow with something soft drifting
over his face.

Hating the thought of him feeling
pity for me I rush into speech. “It’s the fashion you know. I’m a slave to it
but it’s quite warm.”

He stares at me for a second and
then obviously decides to let it go but that something soft remains in his
face. He takes both of my hands in his big, warm ones and starts to gently rub
feeling back into them, and again I feel those sharp tingles that I felt when
he last held my hand. I gasp and as if he’s coming out of a trance he jerks a
look at me, and then abruptly drops my hand and steps back looking slightly
flustered. “Let’s get you a hot drink,” he mutters abruptly and turns to the
counter. “Tea or coffee?”

After he’s served me tea in a
big, stainless steel travel cup he steers me out of the kitchen and down a
herringbone brick path which winds its way down a huge garden towards some old
brick outbuildings. “The studio’s down there,” he says in answer to my
questioning look. “There’s a rehearsal room in there as well with everything
set up ready for us.”

“Lucky you,” I say faintly
thinking of my days schlepping instruments from one dusty old room to another
and he half smiles.

“I’ve done my time hauling
instruments about. I like my comforts now.”

I stare at the buildings that
draw closer and spill welcoming yellow light over the path, and I feel
surprisingly nervous. I say surprising because I love singing, I always have
and have never suffered from nerves, even at the biggest of my gigs. I’m
nervous now because we need this money so much, and I’ll admit it, I also felt
alive for the first time in three years at that audition, and I don’t want to
lose that feeling.

Sid shoots a sharp glance at me
as if he senses my nerves and he draws me to a stop. Leaning in to me with that
sideways move he seems to use for me he whispers. “Don’t be so nervous. You’ve
no need Nelly.”

“Don’t call me Nelly,” I whisper
faintly and he smiles.

“You have an amazing voice Nelly.
You’re perfect for this so don’t let anyone, including yourself, talk you out
of this. You may feel you need us but we might need you just as much. Do your
stuff and show yourself off.”

I smile. “Wow! Did you just say
something nice to me Mr Hudson?”

He shifts on his feet looking
embarrassed. “Yeah don’t get used to it,” and then with a flash of irritation.
“And for fuck’s sake don’t call me Mr Hudson, Nelly.” As he speaks he steers me
through the door and into the warm surroundings of the rehearsal room.

As we enter I look around with
curiosity. It’s a big room with vaulted ceilings and an old wooden floor. A
couple of huge, red velvet sofas are pushed over to the side and there’s a
small kitchenette tucked into the corner with a big stainless steel fridge and
an industrial looking coffee maker. However, the room is really a musician’s
delight, with every instrument known to man dotted about and wires trailing
everywhere. A group of people are clustered together on the settees drinking
coffee - two woman along with Bram and another two men. Bram waves and I smile
at him feeling Sid stiffen slightly. I look at him but he just steers me over
to Charlie and Mabel who are standing entwined together while he laughs at
something that one of the men is saying. As we draw closer the man, who I
recognise instantly as Seth the drummer, gets to his feet and I gulp because he
really is a giant. He must be 6’ 5” and his arm muscles are huge. He has unruly
black hair and a rough, stubbly beard but very kind green eyes, and when he
takes my hand his grip is gentle. “You must be Nell,” he says in a deep,
drawling American voice.

“I am and you’re Seth,” I
venture, smiling because he has such a lovely aura about him.

“Pretty, pretty face,” he mutters.
“You were dead right Bram.”

One of the women stirs at this
and his attention immediately drifts to her which isn’t surprising because
she’s beautiful, with a mane of silky, chocolate coloured hair and a face
that’s vivid with expression. I smile at her and something seems to relax her
because she smiles back and her face almost glows. Seth stares at her and
there’s something so soft in his expression that I almost don’t want to look
because it’s private, and then, almost like a barrier coming down, his face
becomes hard and distant.

The girl breaks the spell and
stands up to hug me. Wow these people are touchy feely. “I’m Viv,” she says in
a throaty voice. “I’m Mabe’s friend.” I smile at her and she turns to the man
sitting next to her. “This is Adam,” she smiles and he grins at me and I blink
slightly. He’s gorgeous too with jet black, inky hair and brown eyes, and as he
stands to shake my hand I can’t help noticing that he’s got a lovely body all
lean and muscled. One thing is for sure I’m definitely not going to be short of
eye candy on this tour. “Adam’s the keyboard player for the tour,” offers Viv,
throwing her arms around him and winking at me. I feel Seth stiffen at my side
and when I sneak a look at him he seems to be glaring at Viv embracing Adam,
but when he catches my look his expression instantly smooths out. The remaining
woman gets to her feet and comes round to offer a hand to shake. She’s small
with long blonde hair and a very sweet expression.

“I’m Lucy,” she smiles. “Seth’s
girlfriend.” I’m slightly taken aback by this because I could have sworn that
there was something between Seth and Viv, but obviously I’m wrong because when
she nestles into him he instantly raises his arm and throws it round her. I
turn to Viv and for a second something washes over her face that looks a lot
like desolation but then it’s gone and she slaps her thigh.

“Well it’s nothing you’ve said
Nell but it’s time I was gone. Are you coming Mabe?”

Mabel stirs and Charlie protests,
wrapping his arms around her jokingly and dragging her away from Viv. Bram
leaps to his feet, removing Charlie’s arms from around her. “Go, go, go, Mabes.
Make a run for it while you still can. Think of yourself and don’t look back
love.” Everyone laughs and Charlie punches him lightly saying ‘twat’ in a very
affectionate tone.