‘It didn’t seem to affect your performances.’
It all took its toll, though. Johnny remembered playing the Budokan in Japan, late ’78. Tom prowled the stage with his guitar round his knees while Andy hung from the mic stand like an abandoned jacket from a peg. Andy’s eyes, when he opened them, looked too big for his face. He was so thin, his skin taut over his bones, that Johnny feared he would cut his fingers on his cheekbones. The joke among the crew was that Dan kept his money in his mattress while his cousin Andy kept his in his arm. Andy straightened himself up as Johnny played the intro to
Loving the White Lady
, one of Andy’s songs, and came in pitch perfect, right on cue. Johnny had no idea how he did it.
Looking round at his other bandmates, he could see evidence that they had all fallen prey to their addictions. Tom ran on chemicals, Paul on booze, and Colin and Johnny on a mixture of the two. Johnny reckoned if he opened a vein it would yield pure Jack Daniel’s: he wasn’t sure he had too much blood left in his alcohol stream anymore. On top of that, he used speed to keep going and grass to chill out. Still, they all functioned and things generally calmed down when they got home.
Early the following year, back in Europe, Eddie, one of their road crew, died with a needle in his foot. He’d cleaned up his act, then given in to the fantasy of one last perfect hit. Benny had readily come up with the goods, but the size of the dose, while less than Eddie had been taking previously, was too much for a system that had recently gone cold turkey. Johnny reckoned that had been the catalyst that started the press raking around for a story, culminating in what appeared in the UK papers a few months later when the band was in the States.
‘It didn’t affect our performances then,’ he finally answered. ‘I think if it had, that’s the one thing that might have shocked us into changing our ways. But our tolerance was so high that we drank the sort of amount we used to drink to get hammered, just to function.’ Johnny ran his hands through his hair. ‘I started to think if anything got one of us, it would be what we did to ourselves, not some fuck-up with a gun.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘We always imagined the nutters would have guns, that if anything happened, one of us would be shot. We didn’t think anyone with a blade could get that close.’
Johnny stood up, shaken by the memory. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’ Alex let him go. He clearly needed some time on his own.
It was Friday afternoon. She wasn’t going home for the weekend and Johnny hadn’t mentioned going away. She wondered if he had anything in mind, decided to play it by ear.
‘Let’s call it a day, Alex, I’m wrung out,’ said Johnny when he came back with the coffee.
‘Okay, no problem,’ she nodded. She had plenty to keep her occupied.
‘Do you fancy a picnic tomorrow?’ Johnny asked. The weather was glorious and they’d spent a lot of time outside over the previous week to make the most of it. Ginger Baker had kept them company, alternately seeking sun and shade as the mood took him.
Alex nodded. ‘Yes, that’d be great.’
‘Good. We’ll go down by the river, it’s beautiful there.’
The river was either a very small one, or a large stream, depending on your point of view. It meandered lazily through the grounds of Johnny’s estate. Alex had wandered along its bank, watching dragonflies and beautiful blue damselflies wheeling and arcing over the water. The sound of the water gently running along the bed was incredibly soothing.
They drank their coffee in companionable silence, then Alex stood and gathered her things. ‘I’d better get cracking with some of this.’
Johnny nodded. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? Shall we order pizza?’
‘Suits me.’
‘I picked up a copy of
Brief Encounter
on DVD last weekend. Fancy watching that later?’
‘Okay, then. See you in a bit.’
Chapter 38
As Alex booted up her laptop, she wondered what Johnny had been up to the previous weekend. Some shopping, he’d picked up
Brief Encounter
, but as to anything else she hadn’t asked and he hadn’t said. Maybe it was a woman. But if so, why not see her this weekend, too? In fact, why not move her in? That seemed to be his usual
modus operandi
.
***
Alex had been swimming with Johnny a couple of mornings over the past week, had tried not to stare when he was out of the water. All those years of regular exercise had kept him lean and well-muscled. They raced each other to complete lengths of the pool. Despite the head start he gave her, Johnny won easily, long, strong arms and legs propelling him through the water at speed. Alex tried her best to win and he laughed at her irritation at being beaten.
‘Give me a couple of weeks,’ she told him, ‘then see who’s winning.’
He hauled himself easily out of the pool, ignoring the steps, and held a hand out to her. ‘Come on, Sharron Davies, let’s get sorted out for the day.’ She took his hand, put her foot on the ledge at water level and he pulled her onto the poolside. Johnny picked up a couple of towels and threw one to Alex, dried himself off roughly with the other. Wrapped in their towels, they headed for the house. ‘First one in the kitchen puts the breakfast on, last one clears up,’ he said.
She grinned. ‘You’re on.
***
After dinner that evening they went into Johnny’s ‘cinema’, a room with blackout curtains, a wide screen television, DVD player, video, surround sound system, projector, and a screen that was stored in the ceiling and descended at the push of a button. In addition to this were comfortable chairs and sofas, occasional tables, and a well-stocked bar, with a fridge, ice machine and popcorn maker.
Johnny turned on the equipment, lowered the screen, and inserted the DVD, then got bottles of beer from the fridge. Alex had to admit, this was certainly the way to watch a movie. She’d only ever seen
Brief Encounter
on television, and the huge screen gave it an extra edge. Alex had her pockets full of tissues; she always cried at the end. When the time came, she tried to do it quietly, sneaking her tissues out and swallowing the lump in her throat with her beer, but Johnny noticed.
‘You great softie,’ he said affectionately, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a hug.
The film over, Johnny suggested they took drinks out onto the terrace. It was a warm night, the glow all but gone from the sky. Subdued light spilled out from the French windows, but other than that, they had moon and starlight to see by.
They’d been chatting for a while when Johnny suddenly put his hand on Alex’s arm. ‘Do you see that?’ he said.
‘What?’
He pointed. ‘On the lawn. Moving over towards the border, at the left.’
Alex squinted. She could just make something out. ‘Is it a dog?’
‘Don’t think so.’ The shadow moved and they saw a flash of white and a bushy tail.
‘Fox.’
‘God, look, there’s more of them.’
They watched entranced as the vixen and her cubs played and frolicked on the lawn, until finally they turned tail and disappeared through the hedge with a leap and a bound. Alex and Johnny watched in delight: the foxes were mesmerising.
Chapter 39
Next day, Johnny was as good as his word and packed up a picnic hamper. In a second, smaller wicker basket, he put wine, glasses and a corkscrew, and by late morning they had headed off to the river. They walked and chatted for about twenty minutes until they reached the picnic spot Johnny had in mind. He spread a rug in the shade of a tree and put the wine bottles in the water to keep cool. They had books and a newspaper to occupy them, but at first just sat and talked, enjoying the day.
‘It’s already been a better weekend than last one,’ said Johnny.
‘Yeah? What did you get up to?’
Johnny cast his mind back. He’d spent the weekend with Dan, also currently single, and they had done the usual round of shops, pubs and clubs.
To his eternal surprise, Johnny frequently got recognised around town by people hardly likely to have heard of Heartbreaker. He was used to being approached by music fans, it went with the territory and he was happy to talk to them. Most of the people who accosted him, however, didn’t fall into that category.
In one club, a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties had approached him.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You can call off the search. It’s me you’re looking for.’
Johnny favoured her with a lazy grin, looked her up and down out of habit. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Question is, what are you looking for?’
She gave him a coy look. ‘True love and high adventure. Same as everyone else.’ She ran a finger down his lapel. ‘But do you know, I think you might be the one.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ She slid her hand inside his jacket. ‘I think we could be just like Pamela and Tommy Lee.’
‘How do you mean, exactly, like Pamela and Tommy Lee? Are you saying you want me to slap you around, then you call the police and have me arrested?’
‘No, silly.’ She leaned in close, breathed in his ear. ‘I’ll get your name tattooed on my arm if you’ll get mine inked on your … you know.’
Johnny laughed, despite himself. ‘And just what is your name?’
She smiled, looked up at him through glued on lashes. ‘Genevieve,’ she said.
Johnny shook his head, smiling. ‘Nice to meet you, Genevieve. Goodbye.’ He moved on.
Dan grabbed his arm. ‘What are you doing, mate? She’s gorgeous. And she’s got a friend …’
Johnny wasn’t interested. He was usually a pushover for a pretty woman and a sleazy pick up line, but just lately it was all starting to pall. ‘Lads’ night out,’ he had said. ‘Let’s leave the women alone for one night.’
He told Alex, ‘I stayed with Dan. We did some shopping and had a few drinks. Nothing special. How about you?’
‘Got together with mates, saw the family. Usual stuff.’ Johnny nodded and they moved on to the crosswords, completing both easy and cryptic in record time, then decided to have lunch. Alex set out the food and Johnny uncorked the wine and poured them a glass each.
‘Cheers,’ he said, saluting Alex with his glass.
After lunch they read for a while, then Alex dozed off. She awoke to find Johnny sitting with his back against the trunk of the tree, chewing on a blade of grass.
‘God, how long did I sleep?’
‘Not long, it’s only half past three.’
‘Aah, it feels later.’ Alex pulled herself into a sitting position and stretched, stiff after sleeping on the ground. A lone Red Admiral lazily cruised the riverbank. A pair of Cabbage White butterflies flirted with a clump of wild flowers.
Suddenly Johnny leaned over and took her hand. ‘Look. Over there,’ he said quietly. Alex followed his gaze and there, on the far side of the river, were their foxes, the cubs trotting in a line behind their mother. They followed the line of the bank, then cut across the meadow and vanished through a hedge.
‘God, they’re beautiful, aren’t they?’ Johnny was looking at the spot where the animals had disappeared from view, a smile on his face.
Alex nodded, eyes glued to the same spot. Johnny gave her hand a squeeze then let it go. Her flesh tingled where he had touched.
***
Shortly afterwards they packed up their things and headed back to the house. They played some music: Muse, Pixies, Warren Zevon, and the Black Keys, and read their books, occasionally commenting on either the music or something one of them had read. When it got to half past seven, Johnny put his book down and stretched. ‘Time we started thinking about dinner. What do you fancy?’
‘How about I cook us a risotto?’
‘Great. Come on, I’ll be galley slave and chop the veg for you.’
They went through into the kitchen and started hunting things out of cupboards. Alex watched Johnny as he opened a bottle of Merlot and poured them each a glass; he had put his arm around her the previous evening and had taken her hand earlier that day, by the river. She was sure it couldn’t mean anything to him, but despite herself couldn’t help but wonder. She remembered his touch and shivered.
***
After dinner, they played backgammon for an hour or so on the terrace, then Johnny suggested they took a rug and a bottle of wine and sat on the lawn. If the foxes came back, they would have a grandstand view. It was a fine, clear evening, and the day still had some warmth in it. They settled down to wait, barely speaking above a whisper so as not to startle the animals should they choose to appear.
After half an hour, Johnny pointed. ‘Look, there they are,’ he whispered.
‘Where? I can’t see them,’ said Alex, kneeling up and peering into the evening gloom. Johnny moved beside her. He put his arm around her waist and his head close to hers. ‘There,’ he said pointing for the two of them. ‘Do you see? By the hedge.’
Alex couldn’t at first, but then made out the figures in the twilight. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, ‘I see them.’ The fox cubs gambolled and played, oblivious to the fact that they were being observed, and Alex sat back on her heels and watched, mesmerised.
‘Alex?’ murmured Johnny. Alex felt his breath on her cheek. She forgot all about foxes, was aware only of how close to her Johnny Burns was. His arm still lay around her waist. She could feel the warmth of him, smell his scent. Alex stopped breathing. He was so close that if she turned her head just a fraction, the smallest amount, she could kiss him. He took his arm from her waist, gently stroked her back.
‘God, Alex,’ he breathed again. Slowly, fractionally, she turned her head to him. Johnny was looking at her intently. He closed his eyes and his lips brushed hers oh, so softly. Alex thought she would melt. Then she kissed him back.
He laid her down gently on the rug. Alex twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him to her and he stroked her throat, kissed her neck. Alex unbuttoned his shirt, the same faded blue denim one he’d been wearing when she first saw him, the one that matched his eyes, and stroked the smooth, warm flesh beneath. Johnny cupped her breasts, squeezed them gently, ran his thumb over the hard little nipples. He started to unzip her sweatshirt, their kisses becoming more urgent. Alex had her hands in his shirt, ran them down his body, letting them rest at his waist. She took hold of the belt on his jeans, was about to unbuckle it, when she heard Carol’s voice in her head, clear as a bell.