Heartbreaker (7 page)

‘Fuck off,’ said Colin.

‘No way, I am not being in a band called that,’ said Paul.

‘You and your fucking elves,’ exclaimed Andy. ‘You’ll be on at us to change our names again next.’

‘You are Legolas,’ laughed Tom. ‘You can’t fight it, you are what you are.’

‘Yeah? Well that makes you the fucking Balrog.’ Andy took the joint from Colin.

Tom laughed again. ‘And Col’s Bilbo Baggins.’ He smirked at Colin, aware that he was sensitive about being the least tall member of the band. ‘The adventurous little hobbit.’

‘I’ll Bilbo fucking Baggins you, you cocky cunt.’ Colin launched himself at Tom and they rolled on the floor, Tom laughing and Colin punching.

Andy shifted to one side to make room for them. ‘How about The Brown Bombers?’ he suggested, referencing Led Zeppelin’s second album.

‘How about sticking with Free?’ said Paul. ‘We all like them, what’s the problem?’

‘We all like Zep,’ said Andy. ‘What’s the problem?’

‘No problem at all,’ said Johnny. ‘Heartbreaker. They’ve both got songs called Heartbreaker.’

‘Actually, that’s not a bad name for a band,’ said Andy.

Paul hauled Colin off Tom. ‘Listen up,’ he said. ‘We’re called Heartbreaker, alright? Now let’s go for a fucking pint.’

***

‘So that was it, the band was named and we all went to the pub to celebrate,’ said Johnny. ‘That was April ’73. We played our first gig as Heartbreaker a few weeks later. The extra guitar, plus the option of keyboards from either Tom or Colin, rounded out the sound and we started to get a solid reputation around the clubs and pubs we were playing. We even had a little squad who’d follow us around.’ He smiled. ‘In fact, we entertained them from the back of the van, sometimes.’

‘Oh yeah?’

Johnny laughed. ‘No, nothing like that. Not as far as I was concerned, anyway. I’m not so sure about Tom. No, they’d hang around the van after a gig and talk to us while we loaded the gear. Sometimes we’d get a couple of guitars and a harmonica out and do an acoustic set in the car park just for them. We all loved Hot Tuna’s first album, we covered a lot of their acoustic blues stuff.’ He ran his hand through his hair. ‘We were writing our own stuff and really gelling as an outfit. If one of us went off on one when we were playing, the rest would just keep up with what was happening. Then, when we needed to be back together, we’d all be there, bam, and the whole thing would take off again. Andy and I would challenge each other as to what sounds we could make; he’d sing and I’d have to play, or I’d play and he’d have to sing. You know?’

Alex did. She loved the interplay between Ian Gillan and Ritchie Blackmore, Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.

‘It was such a blast. On the business side, we needed a manager and Andy Airey’s cousin, Dan Cross, seemed to fit the bill. He’d been sorting out bookings for a cut of the take for a while, so it was just a matter of making the arrangement permanent. Word spread about us and we were heard by a guy from Crawdaddy Records, Brett Phillips. He offered us a recording contract and that was that. That was in October ’73.’

***

They were working at the table in the sunny kitchen. ‘How do you think it’s coming along?’ Johnny pushed his hair out of his eyes and squinted at Alex.

‘Well, it’s good. We’ve got the early days pretty much covered. We might have to add some extra detail for the anoraks, but I’ll go over what we’ve got first. That should show up any gaps.’

‘Cool. It hasn’t been as bad as I’d feared. Tough in places, but manageable.’

Alex smiled but said nothing. They weren’t as far on as she would have liked, but she couldn’t see the point of letting Johnny know that. There was time to catch up, she’d see that they got back on track.

They were a couple of weeks in and the Easter weekend was beginning. Alex was heading home and she knew Johnny was going away, although he was vague on the details. ‘I’ll see you Tuesday,’ she said.

Johnny nodded. ‘Sure. Have a good one.’

Chapter 16

Back in the North East, Alex was heading to Isabel and Robert’s house for dinner on Friday night. She picked up some wine on the way, Chianti for her and Robert, and something non-alcoholic for Isabel.

As soon as the door was opened, she passed the wine to Robert and hugged her sister.

‘How are you?’ she asked holding Isabel at arm’s length to see.

‘Fine, absolutely fine. And look,’ Isabel said, running her hand over a flat stomach, ‘I’m starting to show.’

‘Idiot,’ said Alex, and hugged her again.

Later, over pizza and wine, Alex was quizzed about the job she was doing, although having signed a confidentiality agreement she had to be careful what she disclosed.

‘Well,’ she told Isabel and Robert, ‘the house is huge. You could walk for days in the grounds. It’s like something off the television.’

‘How does he look after it all?’ asked Robert.

‘He has staff. There’s an estate manager, a housekeeper, a girl from the village who helps the housekeeper, and a local firm comes in to look after the gardens.’

Isabel marvelled at the idea of living in a house with staff. ‘You’ll get ideas above your station,’ she told Alex.

‘It’s not me they look after, it’s Johnny Burns. I stay in a room at the local pub, remember?’

‘So, what about you and Johnny Burns?’ Isabel asked, mischievously.

‘What do you mean?’

‘How’s the crush these days?’

‘What crush?’ Alex smiled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Honestly.’ She turned to Robert. ‘We shared a room when we were kids, you know. She was always into some raggedy-arsed band of gypsies or other. They’d normally broken up by the time she got round to them and more often than not some poor bugger had died in tragic circumstances.’ She rolled her eyes in mock horror. ‘Anyway, Alex had this great big poster of Heartbreaker on the wall and she used to kiss Johnny Burns goodnight.’

Alex was laughing now. ‘It’s nothing to what you used to do to Jason Donovan. And besides, I only did it when you were asleep.’

‘That’s what you think.’

‘So?’ asked Robert, grinning, ‘how is the crush?’

‘Past and gone, Robert. I’m a big girl now, and this is just a job.’

***

Alex spent the rest of the weekend sorting out her new flat. She had moved in just before her recent holiday and was still getting it the way she wanted it. On Sunday evening, she headed out to meet Carol for a drink and a gossip.

‘Hey, y’alright, mate?’ Carol was at the bar when Alex walked into the Black Dog. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Pint, please,’ said Alex. ‘Thanks.’

‘So how’s the job going?’ asked Carol as they sat down at a corner table. ‘Are you still enjoying it?’

‘Yes, it’s great. Unusual, but good fun.’

‘How much longer will you be down south? Another two or three weeks?’

‘Something like that,’ said Alex. She felt that the job was taking longer than it should, even allowing for the odd working arrangement.

‘What’s Johnny Burns like?’

‘He’s interesting. Easy to talk to, you know?’

‘You should get him up here, we’ll show him what a proper night out is.’ Carol drained her glass. ‘Unless you think he couldn’t take the pace.’

‘So,’ Alex said when she returned from the bar with another round of drinks, ‘tell me about Eddie.’

‘He’s okay. Couple of years older than me, divorced, no kids, nice flat, quick learner.’

‘Sounds promising.’ Alex sipped at her drink.

‘Yeah, I think so.’ She heard Carol sigh. ‘I wonder about people who are divorced, though.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Well, what’s wrong with them that they got divorced? You know, there had to be something, some reason they got dumped.’

Alex shook her head. ‘I reckon you’re looking at it wrong. There doesn’t have to be anything wrong with either of them, just with what they had together. Look at me and Dave. We could just as easily have been married and be getting divorced now. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me, anyway.’

‘Are you sure it’s over between you two?’ Carol asked. ‘He is lovely, Alex, no denying it.’

‘But not faithful.’

‘It was a one off. You were good together.’

‘Over and done with. No going back.’ She smiled. ‘Maybe things will work out for you and Eddie.’

‘That would be nice. I can hear the clock ticking, mate, and your Isabel being pregnant doesn’t help.’

Much later, she and Carol shared a taxi. When Alex got home, Dave was on her doorstep, a can of lager in his hand and a pile of empties at his feet. She sighed, ran her hands through her hair. ‘What do you want?’

‘You. I saw your car was back. I’ve been waiting for ages. Talk to me.’

‘Not when we’ve both been drinking.’

‘Alex, we really need to talk. Now. This is insane.’

‘Well if it is, it’s your fault.’ She got a lump in her throat when she remembered coming home early and finding Dave with a woman they knew from their local pub. ‘How could you, Dave? With Molly, of all people.’ She turned her back to him while she got things under control. Dave had been sitting on the floor with his back against the door of her flat. He put his can down next to the others and pushed himself up onto his feet, banging the door with his elbows as he got vertical.

‘Let’s go inside, Alex. I love you. Let’s talk.’

‘Christ, you sound like a stuck record. There’s nothing to say. Especially when you’re in that state.’ She wagged a hand at him.

Dave staggered. ‘I’ve had a few drinks, that’s all.’ He laughed, then shouted. ‘My girlfriend left me. I loved her, but she left me. So I had a little drink.’

‘Oh, Dave, shut the fuck up. I’ve got to live here, you plank.’ She heard a rattle and a clank and the door next to hers creaked open.

‘Are you all right, lass?’ It was Alf, her neighbour. He looked hard at Dave. ‘Is that lad bothering you, pet? I can call the police.’

‘No, Alf, it’s all right.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Really. Dave is just going.’ She turned to Dave. ‘Aren’t you.’ She made her voice cold and hard, just to make sure he got the message. He did. He put his hands up in mock surrender.

‘Okay, okay, I give in.’ He put a finger under Alex’s chin and kissed her nose. She pushed him away. He staggered into his pile of empty cans, scattered them all over the landing, almost fell but somehow kept his feet. ‘But just for now.’ He walked off unsteadily, waving a hand back over his shoulder. ‘I won’t give up on you, Alex, I’ll be back.’

Chapter 17

Next day Alex was on the road by early afternoon. She would have left earlier, but she’d downed a couple of stiff gins after seeing Dave the night before, so needed more time to get a clear head before driving. Driving with a hangover, or worse, half pissed, was for idiots. That’s how Fred, her oldest brother had died, getting up early after a bender and heading off before he was straight. Alex had identified his body. She’d never forget it. Her other brother Greg still wasn’t speaking to her; he blamed Alex at least in part for Fred’s death.

Safely back at the George and Dragon, Alex sat at the bar sipping a pint of London Pride. It was quiet and she was chatting with Gerry Edwards. Gerry was famous for taking everything at his own pace. ‘He wouldn’t hurry if his arse was on fire,’ she’d heard more than one thirsty regular grumble.

‘So how’s it going up at the big house?’ asked Gerry.

‘Okay. How well do you know Johnny Burns?’

‘Pretty well. He normally pops in once or twice a week. I think he’s giving you a bit of space.’

‘He’s a regular?’

‘You could say that. Sometimes plays the piano for us.’

Alex grinned. ‘Get out of town, I didn’t even know he could play piano.’

‘Oh, he can play, all right. Not as well as Colin Carson, mind you,’ said Gerry, enjoying himself. ‘But he can bang a tune out. When the two of them drop in, and more so when they’ve got Paul Scott with them, the old place fair rocks.’

‘So he joins in with village life, then?’

Gerry nodded. ‘Very much. He made a hefty donation to the church roof fund, practically paid for the new one, and he helped paint the church hall when it needed doing. Not that he goes to church. But it’s a lovely old building and it’s part of the fabric of this place. He helps support the donkey sanctuary, too, and he got involved in the campaign to keep the primary school open. Wrote letters, you know?’

‘Really? He must be a bit of a hero round here, then?’

‘Yes, he’s a good lad. One of the nicest you’ll ever meet, but you’ll know that by now. We weren’t too sure when he first moved here, mind you, what with all those stories about drugs and women and busting up hotel rooms and that. But he hasn’t been any trouble. Just the press, really, took over the place when his mates died.’

‘Over here, Gerry, when you’re ready.’

Gerry nodded and ambled off to serve another customer, leaving Alex with plenty to ponder on. Who’d have thought it; the wild man of rock painting the church hall.

Chapter 18

Next day, Alex got to Johnny’s house for half past ten. She was surprised to be greeted by a young woman, around twenty, she judged. The woman looked Alex up and down, took in the spiky blonde crop, jeans and shades and rolled her eyes, then walked back into the house leaving Alex to close the door and follow on behind. ‘Come on in, he’s in here.’

Bemused, Alex headed into the now familiar kitchen. The woman was attractive, but, if Sonia was anything to go by, not Johnny’s usual type. And there was something about her that Alex found familiar.

‘You didn’t tell me you had another one on the go.’ The young woman looked accusingly at Johnny, who was seated at the table. The evidence suggested they had just finished breakfast. ‘You might have warned me, Johnny.’ She sat back down and waited, looking from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

Johnny looked flustered. ‘Hi Alex, let me get you a coffee,’ he said, standing up. ‘This is Christabel, my eldest daughter. Chrissie, this is Alex; she’s writing the book I told you about.’