Rhona sat on the number 29 bus as it slowly lumbered its way through Camden. She felt nervous at the thought of going to Jeff’s flat; not at the thought of seeing him, but of making a mess of playing a guitar. Her lessons with Gary seemed like ages ago. What if she couldn’t remember the most basic stuff, like how to hold it properly? She didn’t want Jeff to think she was so useless that trying to teach her to play the guitar would be a complete waste of time.
The bus was full of workers coming back from the centre of town, a lot of them struggling to read their newspapers. The pages were too big to turn easily in the crowded conditions but some had mastered the art of folding them carefully and just turning them to the exact story they wanted.
Rhona watched them curiously, glad of something to take her mind off the next couple of hours. Nobody she knew read the broadsheets, and she only read the occasional magazine. She tried to read the headlines over the shoulder of a short man in front, but he must have sensed what she was doing and turned slightly so that she couldn’t see.
She looked out of the window and counted the stops. Jeff had said he’d wait for her and she would start watching out for him just after the station. Lots of people got off at that stop and she could see the road ahead more clearly. There he was, leaning against a lamppost, hands in his jacket pockets. She got up to ring the bell, weaving her way down the aisle of standing passengers. One or two men glanced at her, but there had been a lot more looks when she had worn miniskirts. Today she’d settled for jeans.
Jeff stood up properly as she hopped off the bus.
‘You found the right place then.’
‘Wasn’t hard,’ grinned Rhona.
Jeff turned off the main road by a row of shops and after a couple of minutes he stopped outside a door covered in fading blue paint. ‘This is it, and it looks a bit scruffy. The landlord says it’s not worth painting the door, but he’s happy to let me decorate inside. He runs the launderette downstairs so there’s not much noise in the evenings,’ Jeff said as he unlocked the door, indicating her to follow him as he bounded up the dark stairwell.
When he opened the door to his flat Rhona was surprised. Light flooded out into the corridor from two big windows in the living room. All the walls were painted white. There were lots of shelves with books on and under the windows were rows and rows of records, LPs and singles, with a record player in the corner. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s the biggest record collection I’ve ever seen.’
Jeff looked pleased. ‘I’ve been buying them since I was old enough to save up pocket money. Then I got a paper round so I could buy more. Some are really rare, but I won’t bore you with those.’ He raised his eyebrows and grinned, acknowledging that his obsession might not be everyone else’s cup of tea.
Rhona nodded gratefully. She didn’t want her lack of knowledge of obscure bands to be exposed. She was all right with music in the charts, or from her favourite singers and groups, but not much beyond that. She noticed a pile of copies of the New Musical Express in the corner by the record player.
‘How about a cup of coffee before we start?’ Jeff went on.
‘That would be lovely.’ Rhona didn’t have high hopes of a decent cup as the only good coffee she’d had was in the Italian bars of Soho, but it turned out this was one of Jeff’s interests too. In his kitchen he had a coffee grinder and a special metal pot which he put on the gas ring. The result was pretty close to what she was used to. She was impressed in spite of herself. ‘Not bad, in fact it’s great,’ she said, sipping at it appreciatively. ‘Where did you learn to do this?’ She wondered if a girlfriend had taught him – not that he’d ever mentioned one.
‘I got fed up with the stuff they get in at work,’ he said. ‘They know how to make tea but if you fancy a change it’s Camp coffee or nothing. I hated the strong flavour of chicory, so I learnt how to make the real thing. Glad you like it.’
He grinned and Rhona thought he seemed a bit shy, yet pleased when she complimented him. Maybe he wasn’t used to it.
‘Right, let’s get started,’ he suggested.
They went back into the living room and Jeff picked up the guitar that was on a stand by the door. ‘You can use this one. I’ll go and get my other one from the bedroom.’
Rhona craned her neck to look as he went to fetch it but she couldn’t see what the bedroom was like from where she was sitting. Not that she was interested, of course, she told herself. It was just nosiness.
‘Let’s see what you know already,’ Jeff suggested as he returned and sat opposite her on the sagging sofa. ‘Show me what you can remember.’
Rhona picked up the guitar, and tried to recall what to do. She frowned in concentration. What had Gary taught her? She felt very rusty as she moved her fingers over the frets, then tried a chord. ‘No, that’s not right …’ She readjusted her fingers a little and tried again. ‘OK, that was one of them. Or at least I think so.’
‘Very good,’ said Jeff. ‘That’s a G major. Useful one to begin with. Any others?’
Rhona racked her brain. ‘Yes, I’m sure it’ll come back.’ After a few attempts she remembered the next one.
‘Yes, that’s a D,’ said Jeff. ‘That makes sense, lots of songs use those two chords. Any more?’
‘I used to know three.’ Rhona tried once more but couldn’t quite find it.
‘Was it this?’ Jeff showed her on his guitar. ‘Copy me and see if it sounds familiar.’
Rhona moved her fingers again and strummed the strings. ‘Maybe. I can’t really remember.’
‘That’s C,’ said Jeff. ‘Also useful when you know G. Try to go from one to the other. Slowly at first.’
Rhona had a go but it didn’t sound as smooth as when Jeff did it. She kept missing a note or slipping. ‘It’s no good,’ she said, angry at her lack of progress. ‘I thought I had mastered this bit at least, but now it sounds like I’ve never played a guitar before. I can’t have any talent at all.’
Jeff looked at her and a smile crept over his face. Rhona realised he had a lovely smile, one she had noticed briefly when he came to the factory. She’d been too busy focusing on what he’d told her about Gary and how it would impact on Penny to realise that when he smiled, Jeff was not bad-looking at all – just not as obvious as the men she used to go for.
‘Don’t be daft,’ he said. ‘It been a long time since you’ve had a chance to practise, that’s all. You’ll be fine. You just need to keep at it until you get it right.’
Rhona hoped he wasn’t patronising her. That would be unbearable. She really wanted to do this, not just for her, but to please Jeff too. He’d given up his evening when he could have been out at a concert or even out with another girl. She owed it to him to concentrate and get this right. She nodded, ‘Yeah, all right. I’m impatient, that’s the trouble.’
Jeff turned serious. ‘You won’t get far with this unless you work at it, and there’s no way round it. Yes, you could be flash like Gary, learn lots of tricks but have hardly any real musical technique. That’s not what you want, is it?’
Rhona shook her head. She knew this was her chance to learn properly, and without all the overtones that had come with playing Gary’s guitar. ‘I really want to get it right,’ she said, her voice full of determination. ‘I love listening to other people play but it’s not enough. I want to see if I can do it too. I’m fed up with everyone saying girls can’t play guitar.’
‘No reason why you can’t,’ Jeff assured her. ‘You can keep rhythm – well, you will when you’ve got the chords sorted out. I’ve seen you dance, and heard you sing along to songs in the pub. You’ve got music running through you. You’ll be fine.’
‘Really?’ Rhona didn’t feel any confidence but she desperately hoped he was right and wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better. He really did have the kindest eyes, so was that all it was. He was trying to be kind.
‘Yes, really,’ Jeff echoed.
He looked at her directly and Rhona felt the atmosphere shift. He was looking at her in a new way … or was she imagining it? She told herself not to be silly and to concentrate.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘Try this one. This is an A major.’
Rhona tried to copy the position of his fingers and strummed but it sounded totally different. She couldn’t work out which string she wasn’t pressing correctly. She plucked each one in turn but every time it sounded worse than before. ‘No, I can’t get that. I can tell what it ought to sound like, but I just can’t get it right.’
‘Like this, on this fret.’ Jeff tried again. ‘No, further up … no, too far. Hang on.’
He got up, came behind her, and she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. She went completely still, not sure what he was about to do, but found herself willing him to come closer. He slid in and put one arm around her, hardly touching her, so that he could move her hand along the neck of the guitar.
‘Like that,’ he said. ‘Can you see where you went wrong now? You were nearly there.’
He turned his head so that he was looking straight into her eyes. Their faces were very close and Rhona could feel his breath on her cheeks. ‘Yes, I see,’ she husked, sure that he was about to kiss her and found that she actually wanted him to.
‘Good,’ he said, and slipped back again, returning to his chair.
Rhona looked down, hiding her disappointment. She was embarrassed. This was nothing like anything she was used to. Men usually kissed her with confidence and she kissed them back. Sometimes she kissed them first. But she didn’t want to do that to Jeff – she wasn’t sure he’d like a girl who was too forward. Hell, she couldn’t tell what he wanted.
Stop it, Rhona told herself. Jeff is just teaching you the guitar, there’s nothing else to it. ‘OK,’ she said, looking up. ‘Got it.’
Mavis was shaking as she stood waiting in the corridor. It smelt of disinfectant. She wondered if the cells smelt the same. She was finally about to see Tommy for the first time since his arrest and she was nervous. The solid brick walls of the prison were unforgiving and her heart ached at the thought of him shut up in here. At least the authorities had stopped moving him round, but as he’d ended up on the other side of London she had thought she’d never manage to get there for the short time slot allowed. In the end, seeing as he didn’t have any work on at the moment, Pete had offered to drive her. He refused to come in with her, saying he didn’t want to infringe on the short time she and Tommy had together, and that anyway, prisons gave him the creeps. Mavis knew exactly what he meant – it was as if the building itself was full of fear and violence – but she couldn’t let that put her off. At last Tommy had agreed to see her and she was desperate to see him. It had been weeks since his arrest – the autumn term was well underway and the leaves were falling from the trees, but he wouldn’t be able to see them.
It seemed like hours before the guard unlocked the door. ‘Here you are. Ten minutes. No personal contact of any kind.’ He stood back but didn’t leave them alone.
Tommy was thinner than when she’d last seen him, and it was strange to find him in prison scrubs rather than his usual clothes, but his smile was the same, that smile she’d dreamed of so often while they’d been apart. She rushed towards him but the guard called to remind her: ‘No personal contact.’ She wasn’t allowed to touch him, to hug him, no matter how much she wanted to.
‘Mavis, you came.’ Tommy stood as close to her as he could, hungrily taking in every inch of her with his eyes. ‘It’s such a long way. I didn’t know if you’d make it but I’m so glad you did.’
‘Of course I came.’ Mavis looked at him longingly. It was unbearable, to be this near and yet not be able to reach out for him. ‘Pete brought me, but why didn’t you want to see me before? I miss you so much and I wanted to see you to make sure you’re all right.’
‘I didn’t want you to see me like this, in a place like this, and I’m fine,’ Tommy said and shuffled a little. ‘Look, we can sit down, either side of this table.’
‘Are they treating you well?’ Mavis began, but Tommy raised his eyebrows and she realised he wasn’t going to say much on that subject while there was a prison guard listening in. ‘You won’t be here for much longer, Tommy. They’ll have to let you go because it’s plain that you’re innocent.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘Unless something comes up to prove that, they’ll keep me here until my trial. I’m trying to get my head around it, and so must you, but at least it’s great to hear that you think I’m innocent.’
‘Of course I do!’ Mavis burst out. ‘I know you’d never hurt anyone.’
‘The fact that you believe in me means a lot.’
‘Tommy, it isn’t just me who believes in you. We all do, my mum, Pete, Stan and Jenny, and so many others. I’m sure the police will realise that you’re innocent soon and then you’ll be home.’
‘I don’t think so, Mavis.’ Tommy sighed deeply. ‘We have to face it, I might not be out of here for a long time. They’ve got reason to keep me here. I don’t have any alibis for that night, you know that. Mavis, look at me. I hate to say this but they could find me guilty even though I’ve done nothing.’
‘No, Tommy!’
‘There are plenty of people in here who haven’t done what they’re accused of. Things don’t always work the way they should. You have to be prepared for me to be in here a long time. If they find me guilty …’
‘Tommy!’ Mavis was close to crying now, trying hard not to because she didn’t want to upset him more than he was already, but the thought was so overwhelming that she couldn’t help herself and tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘No, that won’t happen, you aren’t guilty and they can’t lock you up for something you didn’t do. I need you back home, and the children keep asking where you are. You have to get out of here. I can’t live without you.’
‘Mavis.’ Tommy swallowed hard. ‘Mavis, listen to me. You don’t want to be an old maid, shackled to a lifer. I love you more than I can say but I don’t want to think of you on your own because of me. Maybe we should call it a day and then you can find someone else, make a go of your life rather than sitting around waiting for me when I might not get out. I’m saying it because I love you, not because I want to get rid of you, but I can’t forgive myself for ruining your life.’
Mavis gasped then sat up straight and looked him in the eye, her sobs subsiding. ‘Never, Tommy. I don’t want anyone else and if I can’t have you, I’d rather be on my own. There’s no one else for me and there never will be. You’re the man I love more than life itself, so don’t ever say anything like that to me again. I’ll love you forever, whatever happens.’ She put her hand to her neck out of habit, but there was nothing there.
‘Your locket. It’s gone.’ Tommy realised at once what she was reaching for.
Mavis could have kicked herself. She didn’t want to add to his worries but she’d been found out. ‘I’m so sorry, Tommy. We had to pawn it. You know we couldn’t raise your bail money because of Pete’s work problems. Well, it wasn’t just because they set it at such a huge amount. It’s because his firm is probably going bust and we’re struggling to pay for the house. So Mum took everything valuable to the pawn shop and that got us enough to tide us over. But I will get the locket back as soon as I can, honest.’
‘Blimey, that’s a relief. I thought you might have taken it off because you’d gone off me,’ Tommy tried to joke.
‘Never, Tommy,’ Mavis replied fiercely. ‘Don’t you ever think that! I didn’t want you to find out about our money problems, or that we might lose the house. You’ve got enough on your plate.’
Tommy shook his head. ‘It’s not looking good, is it? Pete’s going bust and so am I. Jerry wrote to say all the work I was getting has dried up now I’m in here. Word has got round and everyone’s turning their back on the firm. Nobody wants to be tainted by scandal. All those leads I had before we went to Devon, all those promising new contacts have faded away. My name is ruined now. All those years of working to get the firm set up and it’s disappearing before my eyes like water down a plug hole. Even if I do get out of here, I’ll be back to square one and with hardly a penny to my name.’
Mavis tossed back her hair. ‘I don’t care, Tommy. Rich or poor, as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.’ Instinctively she reached for him but once again the guard’s voice brought her up short. ‘No personal contact, madam. Anyway your time is up.’
Mavis reluctantly rose to go, another sob breaking through. ‘Oh Tommy. I’ll come again. I love you.’
‘I love you too, Mavis,’ said Tommy, his dark eyes full of pain. ‘I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.’
The guard came forward and began to usher Mavis towards the door. She turned, dashed the tears from her cheeks and said, inwardly praying she was right, ‘Don’t give up, we’re going to get you out of here.’
Tommy watched her go, and had Mavis turned back for a second time before the door closed, she would have seen the look of utter despair on Tommy’s face.