The Forgotten Girl (21 page)

I flew through my work that morning. I typed up Dad's entry, stuck it in an envelope and posted it straightaway. I hoped he'd win – he had been in such a good mood last night that I even thought a win could completely change his personality.

At lunchtime I checked my hair in the mirror in the ladies, redid my lipstick, and feeling slightly nervous, I headed to the studio to see George.

Suze was working a shift at Bruno's and as I passed she dashed out.

‘Are you going to see George?' she said, gripping my arm with one hand, while she balanced some empty coffee cups on the other. ‘Come and see me on your way back to work. I want to hear everything.'

‘Not everything,' I said, smiling. ‘Some things are private.'

I blew her a kiss over my shoulder as I sauntered down the road towards Carnaby Street, feeling the eyes of a group of mods on me as I passed. I deliberately swung my hips a bit more while I walked, feeling sophisticated and a bit saucy.

And my luck carried on when I reached the studio and discovered George was alone.

‘Hello,' I said, when he opened the door. ‘I wondered if my boyfriend might be free for lunch?'

George grinned at me.

‘You did it?' he said. ‘How did he take it?'

‘Not great,' I said, walking into the room and sitting down on the sofa. ‘He's upset and angry and he threatened to tell my dad about my job. But I reckon he'll calm down. He'll probably meet someone else straight away.'

George came over and sat next to me.

‘Like you did, you mean?' He played with the end of my ponytail.

I smiled in what I hoped was a sophisticated, sexy fashion.

‘Stop talking about Billy,' I said. ‘And kiss me.'

With no reason to stop this time, our kisses were deep and slow. I loved the weight of George on top of me and the feeling of his hands on my skin.

‘Where's Frank?' I gasped at one point. ‘Is he due back soon?' George was kissing my neck, making me shudder with pleasure.

‘Glasgow,' he said. ‘He's not due back until tomorrow.'

All the feelings that I'd never felt with Billy were hitting me at once. I wanted George so badly it was like an ache.

He slid his hand up my thigh and I shifted slightly so he could go higher.

‘Are you sure?' he whispered.

I nodded.

‘I've never been surer of anything,' I said.

Afterwards, we lay on the sofa together, our legs entwined, and shared a cigarette.

‘I need to go back to work,' I said.

‘Phone in sick.'

I giggled.

‘I can't,' I said. ‘Rosemary knows there's nothing wrong with me.'

‘See you later?' George said as I started to get dressed.

‘Suze and I are going to that Rolling Stones party,' I said, hardly able to believe I was being so casual about hanging out with bona fide pop stars. ‘It's to celebrate their new LP and Suze is interviewing them. She sorted it all out with some friend of a friend of hers. Can you do some photos?'

George nodded.

‘Well of course I bloody well can,' he said. ‘I've always wanted to meet the Stones. What time is it?'

‘I'll pop in and ask her on my way back to the office.' I pulled on my shoes and picked up my jacket. ‘I'll give you a ring and tell you all the details. Meet you at Suze's later?'

George blew me a kiss as I headed down the stairs and I grinned.

I walked along Carnaby Street with a swagger. I wondered if everyone could tell what I'd just done, if it was written all over my face. I hoped Rosemary wouldn't know – I was terribly late coming back from my lunch break and I'd have to make up an excuse.

I ducked into Bruno's as I passed. It was quiet now the lunch rush had passed. Suze was wiping down a table at the back of the café and I waved from the door. She stopped cleaning and gave me a beaming smile.

‘So?' she said.

‘Oh, nothing much to report,' I said, keeping my face sombre. ‘I've just been for a quick lunchtime cuddle with my boyfriend.'

Suze squealed and hugged me.

‘I bet it wasn't a cuddle,' she said, giving a dirty chuckle. ‘You naughty girl.'

‘A lady never tells,' I said, blushing. ‘He's coming tonight to do some pics, but I couldn't remember what time it was.'

‘About eight-ish, I think'

‘Nervous?' I teased.

‘It's the bloody Rolling Stones,' Suze said, bouncing up and down. ‘I'm almost passing out with fear, Nancy. What if I say all the wrong stuff and they laugh at me?'

I laughed.

‘Why on earth would you think that?' I said. ‘You're a brilliant interviewer. You'll be telling jokes to Bill Wyman after five minutes.'

Suze made a face.

‘But there will be loads of music journalists there. They're all very serious.'

I shrugged.

‘So?' I said. ‘You're a different sort of journalist. You'll be asking about their girlfriends, and where they buy their trousers, who's going to win the World Cup, and what they think of Harold Wilson.'

Suze nodded. Then she gripped my arm excitedly.

‘Do you feel it, Nancy?'

I peeled her fingers off one by one.

‘I feel a bruise coming,' I said. ‘Feel what?'

Suze sniffed the air like a Bisto Kid.

‘Change,' she said. ‘I can feel things changing. It's all happening.'

I grinned. Suze might have been a bit like an untrained puppy in the way she bounced through life, but she had a point. Spring had arrived, and London was full of energy. Everywhere felt new and young and exciting and we were part of it.

A little bubble of laughter popped out of my mouth.

‘It's happening,' I said. Suze and I hugged again. I glanced at my watch.

‘Oh god, I have to get back to work,' I said, turning my head as someone came into the café and the bell over the door tinkled.

‘So I'll meet you at your place later and we can…'

I looked back at Suze and broke off when I realised she'd vanished.

Startled, I looked round. She was lying along the long seat on one of the banquettes next to where she'd been standing. She reached out and tugged my skirt.

‘Don't look at me,' she hissed. ‘Pretend you're on your own.'

‘Can I sit anywhere?' the customer called. He was a man in his early thirties with short, mod-style hair and a checked shirt.

‘Distract him,' Suze murmured. ‘Distract him so I can get into the kitchen without him seeing me.'

I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I couldn't see that I had much choice. I walked towards the customer, smiling broadly.

‘I don't work here,' I said. ‘But let me just get Bruno for you. Why don't you sit here…'

I bustled him into a chair, which faced out into the street, his back to where Suze cowered, and gave him a menu. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Suze scamper into the kitchen.

‘I'll get Bruno,' I said to the customer. Then I headed after Suze, determined to find out what on earth she was up to.

Chapter 34

Confused about why Suze had left me to deal with the customer at Bruno's while she hid, I went to hunt for her. She wasn't in the kitchen but Bruno was there, unloading a crate of onions.

‘You've got a customer,' I said, nodding towards the front of the café. ‘Where's Suze?'

‘Out the back,' he said. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and made a funny face at me. ‘She is looking crazy.'

He had that right.

Suze was leaning against the back wall of the café, smoking a cigarette. Her already pale face seemed several shades lighter and tinged with green, and her eyes were teary.

‘What's happened?' I said, bewildered and worried. ‘What's going on?'

Suze took a huge draw on her cigarette, tilted her head up and breathed the smoke up into the air.

‘That man,' she said, gesturing with her fag. ‘That man in the café is one of Walter's mates.'

I frowned.

‘Walter?'

‘The man I met when I first came to London,' Suze said. ‘The one I nicked the squat from.'

‘Really?' I said. ‘Are you sure?'

Suze gave me a withering look.

‘Of course I'm sure.'

I thought about the man in the café. He looked like a normal bloke. Nice shirt. Smart shoes. Short hair. Nothing like the drugged-up louts I'd imagined when Suze had told me about when she first moved to London.

‘You haven't seen them for three years,' I said. ‘You might have made a mistake.'

Suze gave a short, sharp laugh.

‘Oh believe me, I won't ever forget their faces,' she said. ‘For a while, after they left, I saw them every time I closed my eyes.'

She smiled a sort of hopeless smile.

‘I knew Walter would find me eventually,' she said.

‘Walter's inside, though, isn't he?' I said. ‘Locked up?'

Suze shrugged.

‘Dunno,' she said. ‘He was. But he might be out by now.'

‘You said you didn't think he'd come back.'

‘I don't,' she said. ‘Not really. It was just frightening to see Vic out there.'

‘Do you think he was looking for you?'

Suze shook her head.

‘Actually, I don't,' she said. ‘It's probably just an unfortunate coincidence.'

‘A narrow escape,' I said.

Suze nodded, a grim look on her face.

‘I hope so,' she said. ‘But I think he saw me.'

‘Do you think he recognised you?'

She shook her head.

‘Probably not.'

I took the cigarette out of her hand and inhaled.

‘So?' I said. ‘Then he won't come back. Will he?'

‘I hate when you do that,' she said.

‘Are you all right?' I asked, remembering how crazy she'd gone when we talked about Walter and his friends the night of the party in Wardour Street. Would seeing Vic again send her off the rails?

Suze smiled, a weak smile.

‘I'm fine,' she said. ‘I think I'll tell Bruno I'm not feeling well, and I'll go home for the afternoon. I'll hide out in the squat like I used to.'

‘Oh Suze,' I said. ‘I'm not sure that's the answer. But if it makes you feel better, then stay at home all afternoon. I'll come round after work.'

Shit. Work. I was so late coming back from my lunchbreak; it was almost three o'clock.

‘Lovey, I have to go,' I said. ‘Rosemary's going to have my guts for garters. Are you all right?'

Suze smiled.

‘I'm fine,' she said. ‘Go.'

‘I'll meet you at yours after work,' I said. ‘Big night tonight.'

‘The biggest,' Suze said. ‘Go on.'

I pulled her into a tight hug.

‘Vic's no one,' I said into her ear. ‘You're fine. You're great, in fact. And tonight you're interviewing Mick Jagger.'

Suze squeezed me back even tighter.

‘Thank you,' she said.

I kept my head down all afternoon, working really hard to stay on Rosemary's good side and I was pleased that the hours flew by. At six o'clock, when most people had gone home, I headed for the fashion cupboard where our fashion editor, Lucy, had laid out some outfits for me.

‘Wear the checked dress,' she said. ‘It's perfect for tonight.'

I pulled it on – it was black and white dogtooth check with long sleeves and thick white cuffs. The skirt was very short with a pleat in the front. I loved it – it was fashionable and professional at the same time. I paired it with white tights and my favourite white shoes with a strap. Lucy helped me with my hair, brushing it straight and spraying my fringe to make sure it stayed flat, and my make-up.

‘Not bad,' I said, when she finished, turning this way and that to see how I looked from all angles in the mirror.

‘You have to look good for Mick Jagger,' said Lucy.

‘I won't be going anywhere near him, thank goodness,' I said, picking up my bag and wondering if I dared risk going without a jacket. It wasn't raining, but there was still a chill in the air despite the recent spring sunshine we'd enjoyed. ‘Suze is doing the interview. I'll probably pass out with excitement if he so much as says hello to me.'

‘Get his phone number for me,' Lucy called as I left and I giggled.

When I got to Suze's, George was waiting outside. He looked really trendy in a suit jacket with a striped top underneath. He was holding a piece of paper with handwriting scribbled on it – a note from Suze obviously.

‘She's going to meet us there,' he said. He gave me a kiss and I shivered with pleasure. I almost suggested not going to the party at all and just going back to George's for the evening, then I remembered it was Suze's big night.

‘Where is she?'

George shrugged. He handed me the note.

‘Nancy!' it said, in Suze's scrawl. ‘Something came up. See you at the party.'

‘Well that's not very enlightening,' I said.

‘Typical Suze,' George said. ‘She'll explain later.' He screwed up the note and lobbed it into the bin, and together we strolled along Berwick Street.

The party was in a basement nightclub on Oxford Street. It was dark and it took a while for our eyes to adjust to the light as we went down the stairs.

‘Oh, wow,' said George. ‘This is cool.'

For the first time since my new London life had begun, I felt a bit suburban and out of my depth. It was cool. It was really cool. There was a black and white checked dancefloor, where some beautiful people were dancing to a Rolling Stones song, that I assumed was from the new LP.

Around the edge of the dancefloor, lots of even more beautiful people stood sipping cocktails. I had no idea what was in them, but I really wanted one.

As if by magic, a waitress walked past with a tray of drinks. George took two and handed me one and I gasped as I noticed the Stones sitting in a corner booth.