‘Not any more,’ Hathaway said, giving a little grunt.
Barbara nuzzled her face into Hathaway’s neck and murmured in his ear.
‘How much do you know about what your father does?’
‘Very little,’ he said after a moment.
‘That’s what I thought. When I first came to see you, on that Sunday, I thought you knew far more.’
‘What do you mean? Is there stuff I should know? Barbara?’
Barbara was sliding down Hathaway’s side.
‘Barbara?’
‘Darling,’ she said after a moment through the curtain of her hair. ‘Don’t you know a lady doesn’t talk with her mouth full?’
TWO
1963
‘ Listen to this,’ Billy said, taking a single carefully out of its paper sleeve and threading it on to the long spindle of the radiogram.
‘Who is it?’ Charlie said.
‘Dusty Springfield has gone solo. It’s her first single.’
‘Dusty, my Dusty,’ Dan groaned, tilting his head back on the sofa. ‘If only you knew what a constant companion you were to me in my bed.’ He looked at the others. ‘Well, you and Christine Keeler.’
‘Hang on, Christine Keeler’s with me,’ Billy said. ‘I’m not sharing her.’
‘She’s probably already with Johnny here,’ Charlie said. ‘His mystery bird.’
The four members of the band were sprawled around Hathaway’s parent’s living room, bottles of beer on the coffee table, half-pint glasses in their hands, cheese and crackers on plates. It was Sunday afternoon, a few hours before the group’s evening gig.
Charlie was riffling through the record collection. Dan had been scanning the latest NME.
‘I only want to be with you too, Dusty,’ Dan crooned, singing along in a strangulated voice to the single on the turntable. ‘I’ve heard this on Radio Luxembourg. We could do this.’
‘I’ve heard she’s a lezzie,’ Charlie said.
‘Dusty Springfield a lezzie?’ Dan said. ‘Bugger off.’
He put on The Beatles.
Charlie said from the record stack: ‘They’ll never catch on. Hey, look at this – George Shearing, Ella Fitzgerald, Lena Horne – your dad really likes easy listening doesn’t he, John?’
‘You haven’t got to the big band stuff yet.’
‘Your dad’s got quite a good singing voice,’ Dan said. Hathaway looked at him.
‘That party I came to a couple of years ago – he did that duet with Matt Monro.’
‘Your dad knows Matt Monro?’ Charlie said. ‘Don’t tell my mum that.’
‘He came as a favour – my mum likes him too.’
‘Your dad sounds interesting,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve heard some stories.’
Hathaway saw Billy and Dan exchange glances.
‘He’s OK,’ Hathaway said.
There was a lull, then:
‘They chucked a car off Beachy Head today,’ Billy said.
‘Who did?’ Hathaway said.
‘Brighton studios. It’s a film called Smokescreen. They set fire to it then pushed it over the edge.’
‘What were you doing out there?’
‘What do you think? Gardening. That lighthouse up on the top? Anyway, there’s this sexy French woman in it. Yvette somebody.’
Charlie walked back to the record collection.
‘Hello, hello – here he is. Matt Monro. Love Is the Same Anywhere . True or false, Johnny?’
‘That’s my mum’s.’
Dan broke into a mock-basso version of From Russia with Love. The four of them had seen the film together a couple of months earlier.
‘Oh that Russian bint from the film,’ Billy said. ‘You can have Christine Keeler, Dan, and I’ll have her.’
‘Johnny’s probably got her stashed away upstairs too.’
They all looked at Hathaway.
‘Come on,’ Charlie said, walking back to the sofas and sitting down, automatically touching his bandaged ribs as he did so. ‘Tell us about this girl you’re being so secretive about. When are we going to meet her?’
Hathaway was dying to tell but Barbara was almost paranoid about anyone finding out about them.
‘She’s just somebody who works for Dad.’
‘Did your dad set you up?’ Dan said. ‘That’s very modern.’
‘Ha ha. She’s a stunner but really nice too.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Charlie said. ‘Just tell us what she’s like between the sheets.’
‘Have you gone all the way?’ Billy said.
Hathaway felt a lot for Barbara but he was seventeen. He fought to keep the smirk off his face.
‘You have, you sod,’ Dan said. ‘You bloody have.’
Hathaway saw Charlie watching him. Of the three gathered round him, Hathaway reckoned Charlie was the only other one who’d actually had full sex with a girl – at least to hear him talk. But Hathaway had gone one better. He took a sip of his drink.
‘She’s ten years older than me.’
‘Lucky bastard,’ Billy said.
‘Ten years older,’ Charlie said, possibly sceptical, possibly jealous. ‘Bet she’s shown you a thing or two.’
Hathaway couldn’t stop himself.
‘She does French.’
‘Does French,’ Charlie said. ‘Hark at him. A month ago he thought vagina was an American state and now he’s the bloody Kinsey Report.’
Bill and Dan fell about. Hathaway grinned.
Charlie sat on the arm of the sofa.
‘Should we try to get our own back on those Teddy boys?’ he said.
Dan stopped laughing.
‘Are you mad?’ he said. ‘They gave us a real kicking.’
‘But they did smash up our gear,’ Charlie said. He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a long bicycle chain. ‘And next time, I’m ready for trouble.’
The others stared at him.
‘Have you got Sonny Liston in the other pocket?’ Billy said. ‘Cos that’s who we’re going to need.’
Hathaway didn’t say anything but instinctively touched his nose. The swelling had pretty much gone down now and the colour faded from round his eyes. Every time he thought about the beating he’d sustained he got angry about the Teddy boy who’d unbuttoned his fly. If the other Ted hadn’t stopped him, Hathaway was sure the man would have pissed on him. He hadn’t told anybody about that but he fantasized killing the little creep in various bloody ways.
‘I think my father’s company is going to sort out insurance,’ he finally said.
