Winners and Losers (21 page)

The party was being held in an exclusive hotel in London's West End. A group of girls had gathered outside and started yelling and screaming as soon as Connor got out of his car and handed his keys to the valet. Photographers took his picture as he went inside. He was directed to the entertainment suite, where he found a crowd already drinking and talking. Music was playing in the adjoining room and after taking one of the drinks circulating on trays, he went through to listen.

‘These guys are going places,' he heard Steve's voice say. Connor looked round at him, nodding his agreement. ‘Can you hear that guy on saxophone? It's what your group needs.'

‘Yes, you're right,' Connor agreed. ‘I've always known something was missing. I've suggested it to the lads, but they aren't too keen.'

‘Use it as your excuse to get out. Come and meet a friend of mine. He has just set up a new label. He is looking for bands to promote. I think you might be just what he is after.'

‘Would he want the others?'

‘Maybe just you. He might want to pick a backing group for you – professional musicians,' Steve said. ‘Just meet him and talk to him for now. You don't have to decide anything in a hurry . . .'

Connor nodded. As he followed Steve back into the crush he caught sight of a young girl dancing. Her blonde ponytail struck a chord in his mind but he couldn't think why for a moment, and then it came to him that she looked very like Lisa, the young girl who had approached him in the shadows outside the venue in Liverpool.

What was she doing at a party like this? He wondered for a moment but then decided that he must be mistaken. Besides, it didn't make any difference. He hadn't been interested in her that night and he wasn't now.

‘Rosco – this is Connor Searles,' Steve was saying. ‘He is the singer I was telling you about this morning.'

‘Rosco Jansen. Nice to meet you, Connor. I've heard you on the radio. You have a good sound, but you need stronger backing. I could put you in touch with some decent musicians if you were interested?'

Connor shook hands. ‘You're American, aren't you? I think I've heard of your label.'

‘We're pretty big over there,' Rosco said and grinned. ‘I'm looking for some English artists to promote here and in the States. I was hoping to get a skiffle artist I'd heard of called Lonnie Donegan, but he was already tied up. But there are a few names I'm still interested in, and you're one of them.'

‘What about my group?'

‘Forget them, Connor. You need professionals. You've done great so far, but unless you get help you will sink and disappear into the blue. It happens to a lot of promising talent.'

‘I signed a contract with Moon Records. I'm not sure I could get out of it just like that . . .'

‘I am sure we know someone who would help you,' Rosco said. He reached into his jacket and took out a card. ‘Come and see me when you've made up your mind to ditch the losers and we'll talk. You are a winner, Connor, but only if you make the right choices.'

‘Thanks.' Connor put the card into his hip pocket. Rosco had seen someone else he needed to talk to and was already moving away.

‘Enjoy yourself,' Steve said. ‘Rosco isn't the only one interested. I'll find you when I need you.'

Connor nodded. He drifted back to the room where the dancing and music was going on. A different band was up on the stage. He recognized the singer from the Flying Dragons and moved closer to the stage. They were still good, he thought, but they needed another singer because they weren't quite strong enough in their vocals. Suddenly, the singer, Paul, glanced down and saw him. He lifted a hand in salute.

‘Folks, we have Connor Searles with us – come up and give us a song, Connor!'

Connor shook his head but Paul jumped down and grabbed his arm, pulling him back with him. A round of warm applause greeted them.

‘What are you going to give us, Connor?'

‘“Rock Me Sweet Mama”?' Connor asked. ‘You know that one?'

‘Of course we know it,' Paul said. He turned to his group and gave the signal and they started to play.

Connor loved the sound they were making. He started to sing and Paul joined in the chorus. Their voices blended perfectly. They grinned at each other, because they both knew it was magic. Something had happened and the room had come alive as everyone moved towards the stage. Some people were dancing, but others stood entranced by the new sound.

When the song finished there was a storm of applause and people yelled out for more. Connor and Paul put their heads together and came up with another number they both knew well. They took it in turns to sing the verses this time and the magic was stronger than ever. The applause was thunderous but Connor wouldn't be persuaded to do another number.

‘Call me,' Paul said. ‘I think we should talk, Con.'

‘Yes, I think we should,' Connor said. He walked away from the stage and then felt a hand on his arm. He looked down and saw Lisa. She looked prettier that evening and she was dressed in expensive clothes that told him she came from a family that should know better than to let her roam around Liverpool alone at night.

‘What are you doing here?'

‘My father brought me,' Lisa said. ‘He is a producer and he could help you to get better theatres for your shows.'

‘Why should he do that, Lisa?'

‘You did remember me!' Her face lit up. ‘I knew you cared about me. I shouldn't have run off that night when you offered to help me.'

‘Did you get home all right?'

‘I had plenty of money,' she said and dimpled at him. ‘I hoped you would take me to your hotel if I told you I was broke.'

‘How old are you, Lisa – fifteen?'

‘I'm eighteen.'

‘Don't lie to me. If I'd taken you back with me that night, I could have been locked up for years.'

‘I wouldn't have told,' she said, and took hold of his arm. ‘I've got a room here for the night. Why don't we go upstairs? I'll be anything you want me to be . . .'

‘Lisa, you deserve a good spanking!'

Lisa giggled. ‘That sounds fun. Would you like to spank me, Connor?'

‘No, but I think your father should,' he said. ‘Go and play with someone your own age, Lisa.'

‘I want to play with you,' she said. ‘If you don't oblige me, Connor, you might be sorry.'

‘I should be sorrier if I did.'

Lisa reached up and kissed his cheek. ‘Spoilsport! I'll catch you later.'

‘Not if I see you first,' Connor said, but he was laughing.

Steve came up to him. ‘Stay away from Lisa Meadows, Con. Believe me, she is trouble. Her father sent her to boarding school because they couldn't control her, but she ran away and went missing for months. She turned up a few days ago and said she wasn't going to school any more. She sings a bit and she wants a job with a band.'

‘By the look of her she's jailbait,' Connor said. ‘She came on to me one night in Liverpool when I was leaving the theatre. Told me she had no money to get home. I said I would give her the fare but made it clear I wasn't interested in anything else she was offering and then she ran off. She was trying it on again this evening.'

‘Be careful of her,' Steve warned. ‘Girls like that can land you in a lot of bother. Forget the silly idiot; I've found someone else who is interested in you.'

Connor went along with him, but he was already getting ideas of his own. He thought he knew exactly what he wanted to do . . .

‘You should come to the dance at the church hall this weekend,' Phyllis told Sarah when they met for a coffee that evening. She lit a pink Sobranie cigarette and puffed at it inexpertly, patting her neat pageboy bob with her left hand. Her fingernails were crimson and she was wearing a tight pencil skirt and a skinny jumper. ‘You stay at home far too much these days.'

‘It's all right for you,' Sarah replied. She hadn't changed out of the smart suit she wore for work and felt a little uncomfortable in the café, which was frequented by teenagers. ‘You can flirt as much as you like, but I'm engaged. Not many men ask you for a dance when they know you're courting. I either have to dance with you or stand and watch.'

‘Take your ring off for the night. I think you're daft to stay home and listen to music on your own. I bet Connor doesn't just sit around in his hotel room on his own at nights.'

Sarah nibbled at her bottom lip. Phyllis was voicing her private fears and she was distressed enough as it was, because her thoughts were tortured with pictures of Connor going out with glamorous girls.

‘I don't want to get involved with anyone else.'

‘You don't have to. Just come out and have some fun. Connor shouldn't expect you to stay home all the time.'

‘He doesn't. He just said not to walk home with other guys.'

‘Well, then, there you are. We'll go together and walk home together – it can't do anyone any harm, can it?'

‘I suppose not,' Sarah sighed. She was bored with staying home. Phyllis was right. It was about time she went out and had some fun again.

Connor left the party at ten that evening. He had given his keys to a valet so that he could park the car in the hotel's secure section. He'd seen by the look in the man's eyes that he didn't think much of the baby Austin Connor drove. All the guys he knew in the business had bought big flashy vehicles as soon as they could afford it, but he clung to the car Daniel had given him; it was reliable and he usually managed to go places in it without being noticed.

The valet gave him an odd look as he collected his keys. Connor wondered about it, but put it down to the unspoken resentment he came across in men of all ages. They looked at him and wondered why he should be making records and mixing with the great and glorious. He wasn't famous enough to be universally admired, but he was doing too well to be accepted as one of the lads.

He had noticed it the last time he went home. He had called at Tiddy Jones' house to drop off a small Christmas gift, but the atmosphere had been chilly. The barely hidden resentment in Tiddy's eyes had made him realize that he could never go back to what he'd been before he'd signed that record contract. He had to go forward – maybe it would be as well to move on from the Bad Boys. Unless he could persuade them that it would be a good thing to find some new members . . .

Connor loved the sound the Flying Dragons had. He wanted something like that – richer, with more feeling than he got from the Bad Boys.

Lost in his thoughts, it didn't occur to Connor that he could smell perfume until he had been driving for some minutes. He sniffed the air and then frowned, because he recognized that smell – it was the perfume Lisa had been wearing at the party.

‘Where are you?' he said. ‘You might as well sit up. I can smell your perfume.'

He heard a giggle and then movement as Lisa got up from her crouching position and sat on the back seat.

‘How the hell did you get the valet to let you in?'

‘I was nice to him,' Lisa said and smirked at him in the driving mirror. ‘Besides, he knows my father and he wants to work in the theatre – he thinks he can sing, but he can't. Not like you, anyway.'

‘Some people don't like the way I sing.'

‘Most do – they just think the Bad Boys are rubbish.'

‘You are talking about my friends.' Connor frowned at her. ‘What did you think you were doing? I'm not taking you home with me. He pulled over to the side of the road and brought the front seat forward. ‘Get out, Lisa. You can catch the bus or take a taxi home.'

‘I want to spend the night with you.'

‘I don't want to spend it with you. Maybe in three years I'll think about it.'

Lisa leaned forward, flung her arms about his neck, then sank her teeth into him and bit hard. Connor thrust his arm out to push her away; he put a hand to his neck and touched the bite.

‘You vixen!'

He got out of the car, went round to the passenger side and grabbed her arm, yanking her forward so that she fell on her knees.

‘You're hurting me!'

‘I'm sorry, but I've had enough of this,' Connor said. ‘Just get out of my car and stay away from me. I'm not interested in you, Lisa, and I never shall be!'

Lisa scrambled out of the car. She stared at him, a mixture of anger and frustration in her eyes. ‘No one speaks to me like this! You will be sorry!'

‘Go home and grow up,' Connor said and got back into the car. He drove off, glancing in his mirror as she still stood there. For a moment he felt uneasy, because she was wearing only thin clothes and it was cold out. Then he hardened his heart. She was a silly girl and it was time she learned her lesson. She was lucky she had played her trick on him and not some of the other guys in the business, because she might have got more than she had bargained for.

Eight

M
aura fumbled with her door key, dropping it and nearly falling over as she bent to retrieve it. She swore as her head went round and round, but managed to grab the key. She held her right hand with her left as she struggled to open the door, eventually accomplishing it. The door clicked shut behind her as she shed her jacket, letting it fall to the ground where she stood just inside the door. Stumbling, she got as far as the small sitting room and collapsed into the nearest easy chair before she passed out.

She was too drunk to be aware that the door from the hall leading to the bedroom had opened or that her son stood there staring at her. She was snoring as he walked over to her, his face white and set, eyes dark with something between anger and misery. His hand reached towards her and then dropped. He shook his head and turned away, going back the way he had come.

Maura snored loudly, her mouth open, garish red lipstick smeared over her cheek, the smell of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke clinging to her. She had no idea that in his room a small boy had curled up into a ball, arms wrapped around his body as he tried to block out her image and stop himself crying.