Читать книгу When I Fall In Love - Miranda Dickinson - Страница 10

He was dressed entirely in black: from his too-tight jeans (slightly inadvisable for a man of his age), scuffed leather boots studded with silver stars and torn T-shirt emblazoned with a white skull that appeared to be winking, to his well-worn leather jacket and dented Stetson hat. The only exception was the crimson red kerchief knotted at his neck. A long, greying ponytail languished down his back and silver chains jangled at his wrists. Watching the remarkable scene unfolding on the boardwalk café below him, he leaned against the promenade railing, chewed his cinnamon gum thoughtfully and nodded slowly as an undeniably genius plan began to form in his mind.

When the onlookers from the promenade around him began to disperse, he took a pair of blue-tinted, round-lens sunglasses from his back pocket, placed them ceremoniously on his nose, tipped his hat-brim forward and sauntered down the stone steps to the boardwalk.

Daisy returned with a tray, her face flushed from laughter. ‘They love you in there,’ she gushed. ‘Cake’s on the house!’

‘Seriously? Blimey, I should do this more often.’

‘The manager asked if you can come back next Saturday. I think he was serious …’

‘Not sure being a café singer is really me, but it’s nice of him to ask,’ Elsie said, clinking cups with Daisy.

‘A-a-a-ngel!’ said a voice over their heads.

Elsie and Daisy looked up to see a middle-aged man in black standing beside their table.

Daisy frowned at the newcomer. ‘Sorry?’

‘You’re a vision, a miracle, a mystical sign, babe.’

Elsie stifled a giggle, but Daisy took an instant dislike to the unwelcome stranger interrupting their conversation. ‘No, thank you,’ she stated.

He appeared to be momentarily knocked off guard. ‘Say what?’

‘Whatever it is you’re selling, we’re not interested.’

‘Lady, do I look like a common beach merchant to you?’

‘I have no idea who you are. But my sister and I are enjoying a relaxed morning together, so if you don’t mind, we …’

‘Your sister? Your sister is a gift from the gods, girl.’

‘You’re very kind,’ Elsie replied, far more amused by the man in black than Daisy was. ‘But I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.’

‘On the contrary,’ he replied, pulling a chair from a nearby table and sitting down without an invitation. ‘You’re the one I’ve been looking for!’

‘Erm, excuse me,’ Daisy began, but the man in black wasn’t listening.

‘Woody,’ he said, jutting a jangling hand towards Elsie. ‘Woody Jensen. You may remember me from hit Eighties rock band Hellfinger.’

It was clear from the identical expressions of the Maynard sisters that neither did. Unperturbed, Woody pressed on. ‘I co-wrote the global hit “Hard Rockin’ Summer” – 1987? It’s still a leading light on the Kerrang! Radio playlist …’

Elsie shrugged. ‘I was two in 1987 and my sister was six – sorry.’

Visibly deflated, Woody removed his hat and plonked it on the table. ‘It was a seminal hit, man … World tour, groupies – the whole nine yards. Are you sure you don’t remember?’ He began to sing in a throaty falsetto voice, drumming his be-ringed fingers on the table top: ‘Heart beatin’ faster than a-Olympic runn-uhh, we’re livin’ the dream for a hard rockin’ summ-uhh … Oh-oohh, hard rockin’ summ-uhh …’ He looked hopefully at Elsie and Daisy. ‘Ring any bells?’

‘Only alarm ones,’ Daisy muttered.

‘Say again?’

‘Look, it’s been a blast meeting you, obviously, but I’d really appreciate it if you left us alone now?’

Woody folded his arms. ‘Not until your sister’s heard my attractive proposition.’ He grinned lasciviously at Elsie.

Quick to defend her sister from what she perceived to be a scruffy rocker’s dodgy advances, Daisy flew to her feet and leaned threateningly over Woody. ‘Listen, I’ve asked you nicely to leave. If you insist on staying I’m going to have to ask the manager to eject you from the premises …’

‘Hey, babe, chill. All I want is to ask your sister one question and then I’m gone. Acceptable?’

Suddenly feeling sorry for the former global rock star at their table, Elsie placed her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘I think we should hear what Mr Jensen has to say, hun.’

Daisy sank back onto her chair. ‘But he’s …’

Ignoring her sister’s protest, Elsie turned to Woody. ‘Ask away.’

A look of pure reverent awe washed across Woody’s stubble-edged face. ‘A-a-a-a-ngel,’ he breathed, before composing himself. ‘I need your help. You see I’m a man burdened with ambition and creative skill beyond anything what a man should have to carry. But it’s a cross I bear for my creativity, babe. Point is, I’m on the edge of a rebirth – a spiritual readjustment, if you will – and I have a feeling that this new phase of my life will be my strongest yet. If I can only get my project off the ground, that is.’

Daisy was staring at him like he was a three-headed alien. Elsie gave him a patient smile. ‘And what is your question, exactly?’

‘Well, I was up on the prom, considering my next move, when a vision appeared to me – just like in ’84 when I dreamed of a rock band that would take over the known world and Hellfinger was born. And the vision was you – here, on this humble boardwalk – like a musical shaman, charming the Brighton faithful to do your mystical will.’

Elsie laughed. ‘It was “I Will Survive”, not a religious chant.’

‘But that’s the point, girl! You took a humble song and made it magical. That’s what I want to do.’

‘I’m sorry, I really don’t know what you’re asking me to …’

Woody grasped her hand, taking her by surprise. ‘I’m talking about a choir, babe! But not a goody-goody, saccharine sweet choir in a church hall. I’m talking a band of vocal believers, faithfully bringing classic tunes to the masses. Hendrix, Lennon, McCartney, Gaga. But I can’t do this alone: I need a musical director – a collaborator, if you will – to bring my dream to reality. I was asking the universe for a sign – just as you started to sing. It’s fate, babe! So what do you say? Will you jump into the abyss of chance and play destiny’s piano?’

‘With an offer like that, how can you refuse?’ scoffed Daisy.

‘How indeed …?’ Elsie answered, her mind suddenly racing with possibilities.

Daisy gripped her arm. ‘Wait – you’re not seriously considering this, are you?’

Elsie couldn’t lie. Despite all the good reasons there were for her not accepting, she liked this middle-aged rocker with his crazy idea. The hint of something beyond the norm intrigued her intensely. This week’s note had said she was fearless: surely pursuing this was evidence of the fact?

‘I was looking to start something new. This might be it.’

‘No way! I’m sorry, Elsie, I can’t let you do this.’

Woody’s brow lowered. ‘I think you’ll find Elsie can …’

‘Daisy, I think this could work. I wanted to do something musical and this could be fun. Imagine the people who would respond to a non-conventional choir. People I might have something in common with and be able to build something with … Come on, Dais, you said you’d support me in whatever I chose to do. If I’m going to start something new and maybe begin to date again, this could be a perfect opportunity.’

‘Yeah, Daisy, lighten up and catch the vision,’ Woody added, perhaps unwisely given the murderous look in Daisy’s eyes.

‘Nobody has introduced us so you shouldn’t use my name!’ she exclaimed, the utter Britishness of her argument only serving to make Elsie giggle.

‘Daisy Maynard, meet Woody Jensen. Woody, meet Daisy. And I’m Elsie. Now we’re all formally introduced. Happy?’

‘Not particularly.’ Irritated, Daisy wrapped her long pashmina scarf around her shoulders and glared at them both. ‘If you want to do this, fine. But I’m coming too. I’m not letting you go anywhere alone with this – this – person.’

Woody scooped up the Stetson and replaced it on his head. ‘Cool with me, babe. The more the merrier.’

They arranged to meet the following Tuesday evening at Sundae & Cher, Woody clearly relishing the prospect of ‘dreams and ice cream’. Daisy waited until Woody had left to reveal her true feelings to Elsie.

‘I can’t believe you’d even consider doing anything with that man,’ she said, as they picked their way slowly across the pebbled beach. ‘He’s a nutjob!’

Elsie bent down to pick up a smooth, grey pebble. ‘I know he’s a little … eccentric, but isn’t everybody in this town? You have to admit, it sounds like fun.’

‘It sounds like a nightmare,’ Daisy retorted. ‘Els, are you sure this is what you want? Because there are all manner of perfectly decent choirs in Brighton that you could join instead. The DreamTeam are meant to be wonderful – and they perform at the Theatre Royal every year. Imagine singing on that stage! You’d love it, I’m sure …’

Elsie shot her sister a wry look. ‘Be in a choir run by Jeannette Burton? The only choirmistress who grabs more of the spotlight than her choir? No, thank you. I don’t want to be led in musical medleys by a fifty-something woman in skin-tight red leather trousers. It would be most off-putting …’ She smiled, remembering Cher’s damning verdict on the woman: ‘Just like Simon Cowell in red leather’ … ‘Besides,’ she continued, turning the pebble over and over in her hands, ‘the kind of choir Woody and I could create would be fun and definitely not conventional.’

Change was a good thing, Elsie decided, as she mulled over the events of the past week. Deciding to date again – even if right now it was a theory rather than a plan of action – and the possibility of participating in whatever type of mystical musical happening Woody had in mind filled her with a sparkling sense of excitement. On the surface neither decision was particularly world-shaking, but they represented significant steps forward for her.

Later that afternoon, when Daisy had left to meet her friends for lunch, Jim called to ask Elsie to pop into his shop. With nothing else to do, Elsie was glad of the invitation; besides, she always loved visiting her father at work.

Jim Maynard was the proprietor of Brighton Home Stores – Brighton’s premier furniture and home furnishings emporium in the centre of town. He had inherited the business from his father and grandfather before him, and was consequently a well-known figure in Brighton. It amused Elsie to see him in a suit and tie – because she knew the truth about him. Outside work, Jim shunned convention more than any of his children (even New Age vegan and self-confirmed Earth Mother, Guin) and, when at home, he was the embodiment of all things alternative. He had lived in a hippy commune for four years in his teens and never quite lost his love of peace, love and tie-dye. The family home was an explosion of colour, each room swathed in jewel-hued Indian fabrics and bright stencilled painted walls. He ate homemade vegetarian meals from hand-thrown pottery plates (made by Guin), burned incense and joss sticks in the living room and kitchen and possessed a penchant for hypnotic sitar music, which was usually floating through the house from one of his many CD players.

Yet at work, Jim Maynard was the model businessman, the only clue to his closet-hippyness being the small gold ring he wore in one ear – something which his well-heeled (and decidedly conventional) customers hardly even noticed. It had been a conscious decision of his when he first took over the business, a sign of respect for his father who had convention stamped through his core like a stick of Brighton rock. And, while Jim would never express it, this work persona defined another side of his character: the dutiful, committed side, which characterised his all-conquering love for and devotion to his daughters.

Elsie loved the family shop – the smell of polish and new fabric mingling with the scent of fresh coffee, which Jim insisted on having available for his customers all day. As a small child she had spent many happy hours watching her father work, pretending that the entire shop with its elegant room displays was her own home. When her mother had deserted the family, Elsie and her sisters had spent even more time in the shop, arriving after school and waiting until closing time to go home with Jim. As they grew up, each was given a Saturday job in the store and, consequently, all three had fallen in love with interior decorating, something that was reflected in all of their homes today.

Elsie often wondered which of them – if any – would one day inherit the shop from their father. Guin was busy building her home, managing her pottery studio and preparing for a family which she planned to expand to at least three children; Daisy had her partnership in the interior design practice and was unlikely to want to trade that in to run a provincial furniture store; which only left Elsie, who right now was more than happy to remain as assistant manager of the ice cream café. Jim appeared unworried by the prospect, however; content instead to see his three girls making their own way in the world.

He was filling in an order form for an elderly customer when Elsie entered. He raised his hand and winked and Elsie waved back, busying herself by inspecting the new display of cushions by the side of the counter. She loved watching her father interact with his customers. Jim was a natural entertainer, eliciting smiles from the hardest-faced visitor, and this skill had earned him a place on the local town council where he was renowned as a peacemaker in the squabbling ranks.

He escorted the old lady to the door and returned to hug Elsie. ‘My, are you a sight for sore eyes! How’s your day been, darling?’

‘Great, actually. It looks like I’m starting a choir.’

Jim’s expression clouded until Elsie explained about the song in the beach café and her meeting with Woody, at which point an enormous grin spread across his face.

‘Woody Jensen from Hellfinger? Wow, kid, that guy’s a legend! And you’ll be working with him?’

Elsie gave her father a look. ‘I didn’t know you were a closet rocker, Dad?’

‘Ah, there’s plenty you don’t know about me, pudding,’ he replied, tapping the side of his nose. ‘I saw Hellfinger in ’88 at Knebworth, the year after “Hard Rockin’ Summer” went to number one. Awesome, they were. Such a shame how it all ended for them. Their drummer killed himself while they were touring Japan and it turned out he’d been the glue holding them all together. With him gone, the band began to fall apart. I think they tried to replace Woody as lead singer after their gig in Cologne the following year and that was the final nail in Hellfinger’s coffin.’

‘Who knew my dad was the font of all things Hellfinger?’ Elsie marvelled, ignoring her father’s mock offence. ‘So, did you want anything particular or just to see your favourite daughter?’

‘I always love to see you,’ he replied, walking across to the company coffee machine that was steaming away in the small kitchen behind the counter. ‘Coffee?’

‘Love one, thanks.’

‘There you go.’ Jim handed her a mug and they moved to a display of two turquoise velvet chaise longues to sit down. ‘Now, I hope you aren’t going to be angry with me, darling, but I’ve been thinking about what you said and I’ve done something I probably shouldn’t.’

‘Oh?’ Amused, she noted her father’s sheepish expression. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not going to disown you. What have you been up to?’

‘Well, I happened to mention your big decision to Marty this morning and, well, we came up with a bit of a plan.’

At that moment, Elsie knew her face belied her feelings at the mention of Jim’s business partner. Marty Hogarth had been in business with Jim since the mid-1990s and was the exact opposite in terms of his demeanour, attitude to customers and world-view. Where Jim believed the best of everyone, however misplaced this belief might be, Marty scrutinised the world with a cynical squint, believing that everyone was working to a hidden agenda. But Jim remained firmly fond of Marty, so for his sake Elsie and her sisters remained civil whenever he was in the room. What they said once he left was a different matter …

‘And what did Captain Cynical have to say about that?’

Jim gave her a reproachful stare. ‘Now, there’s no need for that. Marty is a good man, Elsie – no, he is. In any case, he was most supportive of your decision.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. You see, he’s not as dark as you like to paint him. I told him that you were thinking of dating again and he suggested someone who would be interested to meet you.’

‘Ah …’

‘Now, before you say no, hear me out. Marty’s nephew Oliver is a genuinely lovely chap. I’ve been working with him on the new company website for the past month and we get on like a house on fire. I really think you two might have a lot in common.’

Elsie loved her father completely for his enthusiasm but couldn’t stifle the note of dread that sounded in her mind. ‘That’s a lovely thought, Dad, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t know anything about him, so …’

Jim folded his hands in his lap. ‘I know you don’t. That’s why he’s coming for coffee.’

‘When?’

‘Any minute.’

‘Dad …’

‘I know I probably should’ve asked you first. But Olly said he would pop in today and I knew you wouldn’t be busy this afternoon, so I thought … Please don’t look at me like that, Els, I was only trying to be helpful.’

If someone had asked Elsie which of her family and friends were most likely to attempt a matchmaking coup, her father probably wouldn’t have made the list. And yet now she found herself ambushed by him! She was about to respond when the door opened and Jim jumped up.

‘This is him, now. Promise me you’ll be nice?’

Accepting the inevitable, Elsie nodded. ‘Of course I will.’ She rose slowly and prepared herself. This was not what she’d had in mind to be doing today. Looking over towards the door, she saw Jim chatting happily with a tall, blond-haired man. He had the relaxed air of someone who had just strolled off the beach, wearing a dark grey hooded sweatshirt, faded jeans and blue Converse trainers. But as he approached, Elsie noticed his smile – broad and friendly – and it instantly reminded her of someone she had known before. An unexpected ball of emotion formed at her throat and she had to momentarily look down at her feet until it passed.

‘Elsie, this is Oliver Hogarth, Marty’s nephew. Olly, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Elsie,’ Jim beamed proudly. ‘She’s assistant manager at an ice cream café in North Laine.’

‘Great to meet you, Elsie,’ Olly replied, holding out his tanned hand. When Elsie accepted, she noticed how warm his handshake was.

‘Nice to meet you, too. Dad was saying you’re working on his website?’

Olly smiled. ‘Yes, I am. It’s been fun, hasn’t it, Jim?’

‘Indeed it has. Olly is a partner in a very successful web design company, Els, did I tell you? He’s very talented.’

Way to go on the subtlety, Dad …

Olly gave a bashful smile. ‘Your dad is too kind. It’s something I’ve done since uni and I’m lucky enough to do it for a living now.’

‘Splendid he is at it, too. Now, Olly, can I leave you with my daughter for five minutes? I just have to – erm – check something in the stockroom. Won’t be a tick!’ Jim was so excited by his matchmaking skills that he practically skipped away.

Elsie shook her head. ‘You’ll have to forgive my father. He doesn’t get out much these days. Um – do you want to sit down?’

‘Yeah, thanks.’

They sat on the velvet chaise longues and all of a sudden it was as if every sound in the whole furniture store ceased. Elsie smiled politely and desperately racked her brain for something to say. From the slight tension of Olly’s smile, it was clear he was doing the same. After a few gut-wrenchingly awful minutes, Olly laughed and relaxed a little.

‘Look, shall we start again? I feel as if we’ve been ambushed and I really wouldn’t want you to think I was in on Jim’s plan.’

Elsie felt the tension easing in her shoulders. ‘Good idea. I’m sorry, the first I heard about you was about five minutes before you arrived.’

‘It’s cool, honestly. My uncle called me at lunch time and said I should come to see Jim because there was something important he wanted to show me. I didn’t realise he meant you.’ His laugh was as warm and inviting as his handshake and Elsie instantly liked him for it.

‘Let’s just forget how we ended up here, then. Would you like a coffee? There’s a machine in the staff kitchen – it’s not exactly the best in the world, but I can recommend it for providing a talking point during embarrassing meetings?’

He laughed again and slapped his hands on his knees. ‘I have a better idea,’ he said, rising and walking over to the stockroom door at the back of the shop. Opening it slightly, he called, ‘Jim! We’re just popping down the road for a coffee. Can we get you anything?’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Jim’s disembodied voice came floating through from the stockroom. ‘You two have fun!’

Olly returned to Elsie’s side and held out his hand. ‘Is that OK? I just thought it might be less – er – intense if we chatted somewhere else?’ While still a little shell-shocked by her sudden introduction to him, Elsie couldn’t help feeling intrigued by the easy-natured young man with his handsome face and friendly smile. Accepting his hand to stand up, she called goodbye to Jim and they left the store.

Five minutes later, they were sitting in cosy armchairs in a small café, surrounded by shelves of second-hand books. Elsie had often walked past BiblioCaff but had never before ventured inside. As she sipped her mocha, she noticed how at home Olly appeared here. The relaxed nature of the café, where fellow customers helped themselves to books from the shelves as they enjoyed coffee and cake, seemed to suit his easy-going appearance.

‘I love this place,’ he said, stirring chocolate dust into his cappuccino foam. ‘I found it about a year ago when my business moved nearby. Can’t beat decent coffee and books – the best combination in the world. So, you work in an ice cream café?’

Elsie nodded. ‘Sundae & Cher in Gardner Street. It’s my friend Cher’s business and I’m assistant manager. It’s a retro place, so a lot of fun to work there.’

‘I’ve been, actually. A mate of mine is a particular devotee of the Cream Tea ice cream – the one with the bits of real scone and strawberry jam in it?’

‘Ah, one of our bestsellers, that is.’

‘I’m not surprised. The way Cam goes on about it you’d think it was elixir from the gods. We go kitesurfing together at weekends and he always insists on an ice cream when we get back into town. That’s what I’ve been doing this morning, as a matter of fact. Hence the …’ He pulled the front of his hoodie to indicate his clothing. ‘I usually try to smarten myself up for work, of course.’

Elsie laughed. ‘Oh I don’t know, I think the “cool surfer dude” look for business is highly underrated.’

‘Why, thank you.’ Olly’s green eyes twinkled and to Elsie’s surprise she felt a slow blush claiming her cheeks.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘Can I interest you in a sample of our coffee and walnut cake?’ a waitress asked beside them, the suddenness of her arrival making them both jump a little.

Olly accepted but Elsie refused, her stomach suddenly tight. Once the waitress had moved to the next table, Olly took a sip of coffee and appeared to be selecting his words carefully.

‘It really is good to meet you. I mean that. Look, this might be a bit forward, so feel free to tell me to get lost, but I was just wondering if you might like to do coffee with me again sometime? I’m usually free on Saturday afternoons. You know, if you happen to be in town and at a loose end.’

Elsie considered his suggestion for a moment. The thought of dating again – now that it was a distinct possibility and not just a theoretical decision – was scary in the extreme. But then Olly wasn’t really asking her on a date, was he? He was interesting, witty and intelligent, possessed a similar sense of humour to hers and was undeniably good-looking: surely meeting him occasionally for coffee wouldn’t hurt? Elsie had to admit she was enjoying his company and the prospect of more of it was very appealing. This week’s note had insisted she was fearless: perhaps this was as good a time as any to take a risk …

‘Yes. I’d love to.’