Prologue

1987

My life has been punctuated by songs. Songs trigger memories that make me smile, or even cry. Some people collect ticket stubs and place cards to remind them of their life journey, storing them in a box of memories that becomes torn and faded as the years pass. With me, it’s songs and my songs never fade. They’re always as they were, the first time I heard them.

Stored in my head is a bank of lyrics, useless to anyone else. They live in their own mini recording studio waiting to spring to life when a song registers in my mind. Then they jump to attention, tormenting me with lines to tunes I know, but don’t really. I know so many lyrics it’s bordering on ridiculous, I even know words to songs from the sixties, which were popular way before I was old enough to recognise them. I’m always humming something to myself.

It was early one Friday evening in 1987, when that song wormed it’s way into my brain for the first time in years. I’d heard it twice already during the day, which I suppose isn't unusual. If you listen to the radio constantly, you’re bound to hear the same song twice in a short space of time. Still it must have been a sign, I think. I’m a great believer in signs.

The bar, that night, was packed with young professionals. Later, I’d have to yell to make myself heard over the sound of U2 siphoning from the sound system but I didn’t care. This was my turf. The place where everybody knew my name.

Sitting on a stool at the bar, I hummed to myself as I took in the sights. Leaves from the London Plane trees rustled in the sticky summer breeze. Fairy lights twinkled against the twilight. Out in the alfresco, girls were twittering and preening like pretty birds as the lights played on their sequined tops. Testosterone swam around them in suits and jeans. Content, I watched them come and go, greeting their friends with a clasp of the hand or a slap on the back. I smiled to myself. It was a veritable smorgasbord of men and if I’d been single it would have been difficult to choose. But as it stood I had my darling Coops. Current policy was one of perusal only. As Mum always said, ‘there’s no harm in looking, Bella, as long as you don’t eat the cakes.’ A gem of wisdom, but one I never understood until I discovered the opposite sex.

Some men are there to be looked at. Some should carry a sign ‘Look, but definitely don’t touch!’

A friendly face stopped at the bar beside me. I reached over and kissed him.

“Jus,” I said, fingering the deep red lipstick smear from his cheek.

“Beer?”

Justin pulled up a stool and sat down. “Shit yeah. I’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Oh baby… client hell again?”

His face looked tired. He loosened his thin leather tie and settled on the stool. “Yep.”

I motioned to the barmaid for a drink and began to chatter away. My cigarette flailed in the air as I talked and he ducked for cover, clicking his tongue in disapproval. No matter how he chastised me, I continued to smoke.

“My day was utter crap, too,” I said, “Trudy said we need to expand our audience so I threw a whole heap of ideas her way, which she promptly dismissed as droll and ‘been-there-done-that’. Looks like I’m up till midnight, again, trying to come up with some new strategy that will appease her. The woman is a bitch.” I stopped to take a breath but only for a moment. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Your new flatmate coming along? I’m looking forward to meeting him. From all you’ve said, he sounds hunky.”

Justin shook his head in resignation. He was used to my eternal perving and paid no heed. “Back in the day he’d have been right up your alley, Bella. Where’s Coops by the way?”

“He’s helping a mate from the footy team to install cupboards in his kitchen. He might pop down later.”

Coops and I had been friends since the Uni days and seemed to have fallen into coupledom by default. Though the way it happened had been something of a surprise to me, our relationship seemed as natural as rain falling from the sky to the rest of our gang. They’d all agreed it had only been a matter or when. And with the looks of Richard Gere and muscles I’d never been able to resist? Well, I guess they were right.

“So… tell me more about your flatmate, Jus’.”

Justin’s eyes crinkled with amusement. My mind was an open book to him, most likely a copy of Playgirl.

“Um - tall, blonde, athletic, intelligent. He used to be a professional footballer. Not that it should be important to you.”

“It’s not, but you know I like to keep an eye on who you’re sharing your toothpaste with. There’s way too many loonies in this world.”

“I think I’m fairly safe then. He’s an architect, just moved back from Melbourne. He’s friendly and loves a beer, so he should be good value for after work drinks, I reckon.”

Raising his left hand, he signalled over my shoulder and swivelled on his stool. The new flatmate had arrived.

“Bella, this is….”

I looked up into the steely blue eyes of the man standing before me. “…Benjamin James,” I said, finishing the sentence.

“You two know each other?”

“You could say that,” was the drawled reply.

You could say more than that, I thought. God, what should I do? He looked so good. I didn’t know if I wanted to stab him to death with my stiletto or take him outside for a quickie.

Justin looked from Ben, back to me. “How?”

“From school,” Ben said, staring at me as if he’d seen a ghost.

For the first time in my life, I was dumfounded. Standing before me, smiling in a most disarming manner was the first boy I had ever loved; the one I had given my heart to. He was the reason I had been born, the reason I was the woman I was. He was my knight in shining armour. The man I adored but could not love.

Suddenly, I knew why I’d kept hearing that song all day. Shit.