The One You Really Want

Carmen was still in the hall pulling off her gloves and unwinding the scarf from round her neck when the doorbell rang. She opened the door and gazed inquiringly at the stranger on the doorstep.

‘Oh. Hi.’ The stranger on the doorstep, perhaps taken aback by her tone, said, ‘Joe James.’

‘And?’ There was a bag slung over his left shoulder. Was he trying to sell her something?

Hurriedly he fumbled in the pocket of his leather jacket and produced a letter. As he offered it, Carmen wondered if maybe she’d been a bit brisk.

‘I’m here to see Rennie Todd. I do have an appointment. For six o’clock. Um,’ he consulted his watch, ‘I’m a bit early. Sorry about that. I can wait out here if you prefer.’

‘No, that’s fine. Come on in.’ Feeling guilty, Carmen ushered Joe James past her into the house. The letter-heading bore the name of some charity she hadn’t heard of, called Top of the World. ‘Come through to the living room and I’ll find Rennie for you.’

‘He’s in the shower.’ Overhearing her on the landing, Nancy banged on the bathroom door and shouted, ‘Rennie, someone here to see you.’

‘Joe James,’ Nancy relayed through the bathroom door. She listened to Rennie’s muffled response, then came downstairs. ‘He’ll be with you in ten minutes. Can I get you a drink?’

‘Not a problem.’ Nancy disappeared into the kitchen. Through the open door, Carmen was mystified to see her reaching into the tumble dryer and lifting out a glass mixing bowl piled high with assorted knives and packets of goodness knows what. Oh well.

In the living room, Joe sat down on one of the sofas and said, ‘Sorry to be a nuisance.’

‘You’re not a nuisance,’ Carmen lied, because she was obliged to keep him company now until Rennie appeared. He had a holdall next to his feet, into which he could stuff all manner of household objects if he was left on his own.

‘It’s really kind of Rennie to see me. We sent out loads of letters to celebrities. Hardly anyone else bothered to reply.’

Carmen looked again at the letter she was still holding. She was the one, just last week, who had caught Rennie going through a pile of mail forwarded by his record company. Appalled by the cavalier way he zipped through the various letters - keep this, chuck that, answer this one, definitely don’t answer that one - she had given Rennie a big talking-to.

‘A really small one. No one knows who we are. Yet.’ Becoming more animated, Joe said, ‘But we’re doing our best. We help sick children do what they want to do, arrange trips and treats for them. We can’t run to big foreign holidays like some of the other charities, but you can still make a child’s day without spending thousands of pounds. And when you see the looks on their faces . . . well, it’s just fantastic.’

Having overcome his initial nervousness, his whole manner had changed. Charmed by his uncomplicated enthusiasm, Carmen relaxed too. ‘And how did you get involved?’

‘My friend’s sister died two years ago, of a brain tumour. She was nine. Her parents set up a charity in her memory. That’s her photo at the bottom of the page,’ said Joe. ‘Her name was Lucy. She was just the most fantastic little girl.’

Carmen studied the photograph of Lucy, a blond-haired imp with a beaming gap-toothed smile. Heartbreaking.

‘Crikey, no, I just do as much as I can in my spare time. I’m a plumber in real life.’ Joe pulled a face. ‘Not very glamorous, I’m afraid.’

‘But useful.’ Carmen found herself warming to him even more. ‘My dad was a plumber. He loved his work, helping people when they had a crisis.’

‘That’s the good bit. You’re their saviour when you turn up to mend a broken boiler or fix a burst pipe.’ Joe’s eyes danced. ‘They’re delighted to see you. They treat you like their new best friend. Then, when you send them the bill, they ring you up from their lovely warm house with its nice dry walls and bellow, “How much?”’

‘And cross you off their Christmas card list.’ Laughing, Carmen thought what nice eyes he had, how open and honest his face was. His hair was short and trendily tousled, he was wearing a blue polo shirt and cream chinos and his shoes were gleaming so much she thought he’d probably polished them specially in honour of this visit.

‘They never invite me to their parties.’ Joe shook his head mournfully. ‘They walk straight past me in the street. People are cruel.’

Rennie, hair still wet from the shower, burst into the living room holding two mugs of coffee.

‘Honestly, you can’t get the staff these days. Nancy’s just made me carry these through myself. I mean, doesn’t she know who I am?’

‘You’re a spoiled rock star who has to learn that not everyone else is your servant,’ said Carmen.

‘She’s so bossy,’ Rennie complained to Joe. ‘Has she been bossing you around too?’

‘No, she’s been fine.’ Overwhelmed, Joe jumped to his feet, took the coffee mugs from Rennie, put them down on the table and shook his hand. ‘Joe James. It’s great to meet you. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this.’

‘See? Bossy and nosy.’ Sitting down, Rennie winked at her. ‘Of course you can stay.’

Rennie drank his coffee and listened to Joe explaining the aims of Top of the World. In his holdall, he’d brought along T-shirts for Rennie to sign, which would then be auctioned. Rennie had also agreed to create an original design that would be printed onto more T-shirts and baseball caps.

‘I’ve got a couple of tour jackets and a pair of leather trousers as raffle prizes,’ said Rennie, ‘but they’re not back yet from the dry cleaners. When I finish the designs I’ll courier everything over to you. By Wednesday, is that OK?’

‘Brilliant. We’re holding a fundraising ball,’ Joe explained to Carmen. ‘On Saturday night. It’s going to be fantastic. But don’t worry about getting a courier,’ he turned his attention back to Rennie, ‘you don’t have to do that. I can pop round and pick the stuff up on Wednesday morning - or whenever it’s convenient. Any time you like. It’s no trouble.’

‘You’ve got a meeting with your accountant on Wednesday morning,’ Carmen told Rennie. ‘I’ll be here.’

‘Great. Wednesday morning.’ Nodding eagerly, Joe gazed at Carmen and she thought again how nice he was.

‘Well, if that’s all.’ Rennie rose to his feet and glanced at his watch. ‘There’s somewhere I have to be by seven thirty.’

‘Somewhere you have to be by seven thirty,’ Carmen jeered, when Rennie had shown Joe James out of the house.

‘In front of the TV watching Coronation Street,’ Rennie protested. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘You do have a reputation to keep up, you know. Rock star sex gods don’t generally watch a lot of Coronation Street.’

‘Their loss. Anyway, what about you and charity boy? He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. What was going on down here while I was in the shower?’

Carmen felt her heart begin to beat a little faster. ‘Nothing. We were just chatting.’

‘Hmm. Got yourself an admirer, if you ask me. Better shave your legs before Wednesday morning,’ said Rennie with a grin.

‘Luckily,’ she told him as the Coronation Street theme tune began to play, ‘not everyone is as obsessed with sex as you. Some people, people with morals and principles, actually understand that there’s more to life than—’

‘Sshh.’ Rennie’s attention was on the TV screen. ‘What’s Norris been up to now?’

‘You big durr-brain,’ Carmen exclaimed, when Nancy told her what she was planning to do. ‘I love having you here. You don’t have to go back to Edinburgh just because you’re scared about outstaying your welcome. If you want to stay here for the next five years, that’s fine by me. It’s so much nicer having you in the house.’

‘And me,’ said Rennie, drawn to the kitchen by the end of Coronation Street and the smell of frying onions and garlic. ‘It’s much nicer having me in the house too.’

Carmen rolled her eyes, then batted his hand away with a wooden spoon as he tried to pinch a mushroom.

‘It’s much noisier, I’ll give you that. And don’t even look at that grated cheese. I’m making a Spanish omelette.’

‘And there was me, thinking that getting flirted with by charity boy might cheer you up.’

‘He wasn’t flirting with me. Stop going on about it or I’ll send you back to the Savoy.’

‘The thing is, I’d love to stay,’ said Nancy, ‘but I’m worried about Mum. Maybe I should go up and see her. She never moans or complains but she must be feeling horrible. I hate the thought of her worrying, all on her own.’

‘Why don’t we invite her down here?’ said Carmen. ‘Would she do that, do you think? Come and stay for a week or two, give her a bit of a break?’

‘Great idea.’ Stealing a mushroom while she wasn’t looking, Rennie said, ‘Someone to be on my side for a change. Me and Rose against you and Nancy. We can gang up on each other.’

‘Really? Are you sure you wouldn’t mind?’ Nancy was searching Carmen’s face for clues.

‘I’ll give her a ring now.’ Hugging Carmen, Nancy said, ‘She’s never been to London before. Not once in her life.’

‘It’ll be like Crocodile Dundee visiting New York.’ Rennie grinned. ‘When she steps off that plane she won’t know what’s hit her.’

‘She’s never flown in a plane.’ Nancy knew what her mother would say. ‘She’ll want to travel down by coach.’

‘Only because she thinks it’ll be cheaper,’ said Rennie. ‘I’ll book her onto a flight with EasyJet. Just tell her she’ll hurt my feelings if she doesn’t use it.’

‘She doesn’t like taking things from other people,’ Nancy warned him. ‘She’s very proud.’

‘Fine. Tell her to make me a chicken casserole and bring it down with her.’ Rennie shrugged. ‘Then we’ll call it quits.’

It seemed churlish, after that, to mind that Rennie never did get to see his chicken Madras birthday cake. A call from his manager in New York had him throwing a few things into a case at midnight and catching a cab to Heathrow.

‘It’s Jessie, she isn’t coping well,’ Carmen explained the next morning when Nancy came downstairs to find Rennie gone. Dave, Red Lizard’s drummer, was evidently having a rough time in rehab. Jessie, his highly strung wife, was finding it hard to manage without him and had taken to her bed with a bottle of vodka.

‘God, yes, but that’s the thing, you have to want to go. If anyone can persuade her, it’s Rennie. He’s great with her,’ said Carmen. ‘She trusts him. Anyway, he’s going to do his best to sort her out and hopefully be back by the weekend. Right, I’m off to work. Shall I pick up a takeaway on the way home?’

‘Lovely.’ By the weekend, Rennie’s cake would be stale. Realising that she may as well just throw it away, Nancy tried hard not to feel miffed.

Nancy, feeling she’d had enough of chicken Madras and three-coloured rice, said, ‘I’d rather have a Chinese.’