The Melody Girls (30 page)

‘At least, you wouldn't be sitting around, nursing more secrets, hoping nobody'd read the gossip!'

‘That's true!' Lorna leaped to her feet. ‘I'll do it, Flo. Let's choose the right magazine, then, and ask if they'll give me space.'

‘I'll get George. He'll know.' Flo was breathing fast, relishing the fight. ‘Let's give those folk as good as they get!'

George, of course, knew the very magazine to approach with the offer of an interview with Lorna, which was a rather old fashioned but reputable Scottish journal much read all over the UK. The editor, a friend of his, jumped at the chance to publish something with the lady bandleader who'd recently become so popular, and after a joint collaboration on what should be said, Lorna gave the interview.

It had been George's view that her special problems as a single mother should just be part of a broader picture of her life and that of the girls in the band, without too much emphasis on the down side of bringing up a child without a father.

‘But enough to make it clear what's involved,' Lorna had insisted.

‘Oh, of course,' George had agreed. ‘You'll be able to say how much you've gained from bringing up Sam, and how any woman in your position shouldn't just think of the problems, but take pleasure in having the child, just like any other mother.'

‘The truth is, it's all a lot more difficult than that,' Lorna sighed. ‘I mean, I couldn't have run the band in the early days without Ma.'

‘No need to stress that,' Flo put in. ‘All you're wanting to do here is assure your fans that you're an OK person, in spite of what happened.'

‘I feel I'll be walking through a minefield, though, and I keep asking, why should that be? Why shouldn't folk accept that these things happen and just be easy about them?' Lorna shivered a little. ‘I'm dreading the response, you know. I mean, the letters.'

‘As I said before, wait to see what the letters say before getting upset.'

‘OK, I'll wait,' Lorna sighed.

As she had foreseen, it was difficult, hitting the right note in the interview, but the woman journalist who asked the questions was not only sympathetic but experienced. She seemed to know just how to get the best from Lorna, allowing her to come over as a sensible and talented young woman, who had faced difficulties with courage and resolution and been rewarded with joy and fulfilment, not only from her music but also in bringing up her boy.

It was agreed that the world was not perfect, things happened that had not been planned, but if the welfare of the child was always considered, all could be well, and Lorna's message to others was to face what came with spirit and hope. And always to remember that even if the world was not perfect, it had its good side. So Lorna herself had found.

Oh, God, is that going to be true? she asked herself, as the questioner thanked her at the end of the interview. What can I hope for out of this?

What she had never hoped for, or expected, was that after the appearance of the interview, there would be sackfuls of letters delivered to her office, almost all of them sympathetic and filled with understanding. Yes, there were some from those who considered her a terrible example to others, but mostly those who'd wanted to write had sent only their best wishes and congratulations on the way she had faced her problems, some even telling of facing similar problems themselves and of how she had inspired them to find the spirit and hope she'd shown herself.

‘Keep on playing, Lorna!' one fan had written. ‘We love your music and we love you and your Melody Girls.' At which Lorna had burst into tears and had to be soothed by the combined efforts of her mother, Flo and George.

‘I never dreamed that people would be so kind,' Lorna sobbed. ‘It's just so touched my heart, I don't know what to say.'

‘Canna believe everybody's so tolerant,' Tilly commented wonderingly to Cissie, who had been following events with the greatest interest. ‘But, there you are, there's hope for us all yet.'

‘Might just be that all these folk who've written have been musical, eh?' Cissie asked, but Tilly only pursed her lips.

‘Now, when did musical folk appear any nicer than others, Cissie? Look at the way the men won't help the women! Look at Luke Riddell, giving Flo and Lorna the sack!'

Yet Luke had rather surprised everybody by writing Lorna a little note of good wishes. He and Suzie had been so astonished to hear of the wee one, you could have knocked them over with a feather, he said, but, well done, Lorna! To keep on with her band in spite of all, and congratulations to her and Flo and all the lassies, not to mention George, the dog, deserting his old band, but never mind, he'd done well too.

‘So, there you are,' Lorna murmured. ‘A turn out for the book, as they say, Luke being so generous.'

‘Seems too good to be true,' Flo answered. She would have liked to ask if anything had been heard from Josh, but knew Lorna would have told her. As for Rod, Lorna herself had said there'd been no word from him, as she had thought perhaps there might be. But then, they probably didn't take Scottish magazines in America.

‘Or, he was too stunned to reply,' Flo suggested.

‘If he'd wanted to reply, he would have done,' Lorna said honestly. ‘Maybe there wouldn't be much point, anyway, after all this time.'

‘Shows the difference between men and women, though, doesn't it?' Flo asked. ‘Here we have you who've been looking after Sam all his life, and Rod, who doesn't even know he's a father. Are you listening, George?'

‘Hmm?' George answered, looking up from an American music magazine. ‘Says here there's a lot more of rockabilly music going around in the States.'

‘Rockabilly?'

‘Sort of mixture of everything. Country and jazz, plus a bit of boogie woogie and blues. Been around a while, in one form or another.'

‘Rockabilly?' Lorna smiled. ‘Can't see that being our sort of thing.'

‘Should suit the kids, eh?'

‘We play for grown-ups,' Flo said. ‘But there are always new crazes turning up.'

‘And dying down.' George threw his magazine side. ‘Listen, have you girls done any cooking? I could eat a horse.'

Fifty-One

Ever since she'd begun to earn what she called ‘real' money, Lorna had wanted to move her mother into better accommodation, but Tilly had always said no. She didn't want a better flat, she wanted the flat she had. It was where she'd spent most of her married life; it had its memories of Cam and the two wee boys she'd lost, as well as of Lorna growing up.

‘I'm no' moving,' she told Lorna, when they were having a cup of coffee while Sam was out at playgroup. ‘And that's that.'

‘But the thing is, Ma, Sam's going to need his own room one day, and I want one when I come home, and so do you. We really need three bedrooms now, and I suggest we look for a house. A detached house with a garden.' She gave her mother a persuasive smile. ‘You'd like a garden, eh?'

‘I'd like a garden,' Tilly agreed, ‘but no' enough to move house for one. And there's another thing. I've got my dressmaking customers to think about. They'll no' want to go traipsing miles away to come to me, and they'd have to do that, eh? Seeing as there are no detached houses round here.'

‘Maybe you could give up your dressmaking? You've worked hard all your life. Why don't you have a rest?'

‘Give up my dressmaking!' Tilly exclaimed. ‘What are you talking about? I'm no' old enough to retire!'

‘I'm only thinking you might like a break.'

‘The secret of keeping well is to work. You like working, eh? Well, so do I. Let's say no more.'

‘Well, at least let me look around at properties,' Lorna said, with a sigh. ‘And then if I saw something really nice, you could come and see it.'

‘I can tell you're dying to look at properties yourself,' Tilly said dryly. ‘All right, you do that, but I'm no' promising anything.'

‘I know, I know. I'll just get
The Scotsman
and read the property pages. Might ask Ewen to come with me. He'd be interested.'

‘Ewen.' Tilly frowned. ‘It's time you let that laddie go, Lorna. Time he was married, and no' to you, seeing as you don't want him.'

‘He's my friend, Ma. We've always been friends. If he wants to marry, I'm no' stopping him.'

‘You are while you keep him hanging on. It's no' fair, Lorna. You've a lot in your life today, you're successful and making money. Just let Ewen go.'

‘I can't see why we shouldn't meet as friends, Ma, and if you don't mind, I'll decide when to stop seeing him. Which I've no plans to do.'

‘All right, I'll leave it to you.' Tilly bent dark brows on Lorna. ‘But you know what I think.'

‘Fine.' Lorna rose to go. ‘Now, I'll just go and collect Sam, then I'm away.' At the door, she hesitated. ‘Do you realize, Ma, Sam'll be starting proper school in September? Can you believe it.'

‘Och, no! But he's that bright, he's ready to go now, eh? And wanting to play a saxophone like you.'

‘He's a bit young for that,' Lorna laughed. ‘But I am thinking of getting him a piano. When we find the new house.'

‘Never give up, do you?' Tilly shook her head. ‘I tell you, I'm staying here.'

Ewen, of course, said he'd be delighted to help Lorna house hunt, and on his next afternoon off, they began their trawl of possibilities. If she was looking for a detached house with a garden in the Haymarket area, however, Ewen told Lorna she hadn't a hope.

‘I know that,' she retorted. ‘I know I'm going to have to spread my net. But Ma won't move too far away from where she is now, so there are problems.'

‘How about abandoning the detached idea and considering something terraced in the West End?' Ewen studied his copy of the newspaper's property page. ‘There's a nice terraced house here in Grosvenor Place – whole house, not yet turned into flats. Pricey, though.'

‘Let me see. Why, it's lovely, Ewen! Looks like three floors. And Victorian?'

‘Aye, so good-sized rooms. Small sunny garden at rear. Easy distance from where your ma is now.' Ewen grinned. ‘Only question, I'd say, is can you afford it?'

‘It will go to sealed bids at the lawyer's, I suppose.'

Lorna sat with her finger to her mouth. ‘Our Scottish system of offers over a price is OK – until you try to guess how much other people will bid.'

‘Haven't even seen it yet, Lorna.'

‘No, but I've a feeling it's the one. Let's ring for a viewing.'

As soon as she saw 29 Grosvenor Place, Lorna knew she was right. This was the one, this was the house for her, her mother and Sam. It was on the big side, true, but that meant it had space, they could spread themselves. Each of them could have a bedroom and there were also two spare rooms, plus a tiny room that would be ideal for practising if soundproofed. And then the main rooms were really grand, with fine cornices and plastered ceilings, long windows and original fireplaces. And the secluded little garden at the back was quite a suntrap. Ma could sit there, looking at the flowers she would plant, while Sam could whizz round with his latest cars, and no one could even see.

‘I think I could afford to put in a good offer,' Lorna whispered to Ewen, while Mr Rowe, the young man from the lawyer's office, showed them round.

‘Is there a closing date for offers?' Ewen asked.

‘There is, sir, it's Friday.'

‘No' much time, then.'

‘Perhaps not, but if you and your wife could reach a decision, you'd still have time to put your offer in.'

‘Mr MacKee is just a friend of mine,' Lorna said hastily, as Ewen turned brick red. ‘I'm the one interested in the house. I think you have my name there? Miss Fernie?'

‘Oh, of course, Miss Fernie,' Mr Rowe agreed, colouring almost as much as Ewen. ‘Sorry about that. Now, is there anything else I can show you?'

‘No, I'm very happy with what I've seen. Think I'd better get on now with arranging my offer, but thanks for showing us round.'

‘My pleasure.' With some relief, Mr Rowe escorted them to the front door. ‘We'll look forward to hearing from you, then.'

Outside in the quiet, elegant street, Lorna gave a light laugh. ‘Hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you, Ewen?'

‘No, no,' he answered quickly, though he had turned away to look back at the house Lorna wanted so much to buy.

So solid, eh? So obviously well cared for, with its fine front door and brass letter box, its wrought iron railings lining the steps, its gleaming windows. How many maids had worked here in the old days, he wondered, cleaning, polishing, scrubbing? No maids now, of course, they'd vanished with the war, never to return, but he supposed Lorna could find a cleaning lady, someone to help, anyway. It would be a different way of life for her, living in a place like this, but then she already had a different way of life – made by herself.

‘What are you thinking?' she asked, touching his arm. ‘You've got one of your brooding looks.'

‘I was thinking how far you'd come, Lorna.'

‘What, from the Haymarket?' she laughed.

‘You know what I mean.'

‘I've been lucky, that's all. I don't play any better than my dad, but I thought of having my own band and it's worked out for me. So, now I can find a better place for my mother and son to live. That comes with success.'

‘You're going to ask your mother to see it, before you go to your lawyer?'