Songbird

‘Really?’ Robin regarded him with contempt. ‘Well, thankfully, you and I are very different. I would never turn my back on family. You see, the only family I have now is my father, and whatever the differences between us, I have no intention of ever dumping him. In fact, I love and respect him. Never a day goes by when I don’t thank my lucky stars that he’s around.’

His cold gaze was unswerving, ‘So tell me, Darren, do you have a problem with that?’

The other boy shook his head. ‘None whatsoever.’

‘So, will we ever have this conversation again?’

‘Not as far as I’m concerned, no.’ Shaken by this unexpected confrontation, Darren the bully wanted the incident ended. ‘You and your dad are none of my concern.’

‘Glad to hear it. So now – if it’s all right with you – I’ll be about my business.’

Robin was almost out of the door when Betsy grabbed her denim jacket and went after him. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said. ‘I could do with a change of scene myself.’ Like the others, she had been appalled by Darren’s spiteful remarks.

As always, Robin saw Betsy as a true friend. ‘I’d like that, yes. Let’s go down to the callbox on the corner. Get a breath of air.’

When the front door was shut behind them Betsy glanced back to see their neighbour’s curtains twitch. ‘She’s watching us again,’ the girl whispered with a smile.

Deep in thought, they walked on.

‘Rob?’

‘Mmm?’

‘How do you really think she came to end up here, all alone and scared to go out?’

‘It could have been any number of things,’ he mused. ‘The loss of someone she loved, a disastrous business venture that left her short of money and friends, or it could have been a family fall-out. Who can tell? Life has a way of kicking you in the teeth when you least expect it.’

Betsy’s curiosity was heightened. ‘You sound very bitter.’

‘That’s because I am. But then I believe that whatever happens in life, and however devastated we are, we just have to make the best of what we’ve got and get on with it.’

Betsy sensed his sadness. ‘You never mention your mother,’ she ventured nervously.

Robin did not answer. Instead, he cast his gaze to the ground and quickened his step.

‘I’m here if you want to talk about it,’ Betsy went on.

He shook his head. ‘Some things are best left unsaid.’

Affectionately squeezing his arm, Betsy apologised. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘I know that,’ he replied. ‘Thanks for caring anyway.’

They continued walking down the street until they reached a low wall by an area of wasteland.

‘Let’s sit down for a moment,’ Robin said. A few moments later, much to Betsy’s surprise, he began to confide in her.

‘I was just a kid of six, when my mother was involved in a car accident.’ He paused and took a breath. Even now it was hard to talk about it. ‘It took them three hours to cut her out of the wreckage.’

He could recall every moment, of every tortuous day and night. ‘She was in a coma for weeks. In all that time, Dad and I never gave up hope, even though deep down, I think we knew she would never recover. One summer’s morning, she just slipped away …’ He cleared his throat. ‘They said she didn’t suffer, that she wouldn’t have known anything.’

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Afterwards, my dad changed beyond all recognition. He used to be always smiling and joking, the life and soul of the party. He adored my mother, and when she was gone, it was as if a big part of him went with her. He couldn’t seem to function any more … couldn’t work, didn’t sleep. For days he just wandered round the house in a trance.’

He grimaced. ‘Dad was well qualified. From an early age, he always loved animals; his one burning ambition was to have his own veterinary clinic. When he left college he became a junior assistant at the local vet’s … worked his way up, and now he has four reputable clinics across Bedfordshire.’

Betsy was impressed. ‘That’s quite an achievement,’ she said. ‘And were you never interested in joining him?’

Robin shook his head. ‘Before I started school, I’d go with him on his calls sometimes.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘It was all a bit scary and bloody.’

‘But it didn’t put you off wanting to be a doctor?’

‘No, just the opposite. It made me want to help ease pain and suffering … but in people, not animals. So, in one way, I suppose my ambitions were much the same as my dad’s. Although he can’t seem to grasp it that way.’

Looking down on Betsy, he went on in quieter tones, ‘At first – after the accident, I mean – the way it was, I began to think I’d lost both my parents.’

The girl was tempted to comment, to reassure him, but then she realised he needed to open the door which he had kept locked for too long, so she remained silent and let him speak.

‘I was just six years old. He was my dad but he didn’t even seem to know I was there.’ The boy’s memory of it was still vivid.

‘We never sat down to a meal any more. It was either curry or Chinese from the local take-aways, or beans on toast and Lyons individual fruit pies. He left me to my own devices for days on end. You see, he forgot that I, too, was desperately missing my mother.’

He still recalled the sense of helplessness and loss. The awful loneliness.

‘After a while, Dad went back to work. It was as if he went from one extreme to another. This time, he drove himself like a mad thing – with extra clinics, longer hours, home visits … anything so’s not to be in the house. I was only a kid, but I learned to fend for myself. I would get up, wash, dress and go off to school in the village, never knowing if he’d be there when I got back. Not knowing if he would ever come home!’

Robin gave a wry little smile. ‘I never told anyone how things were at home, so nobody bothered. I went to school and all I could think of was my dad, and … everything. One afternoon, my teacher came round and told Dad how I was falling badly behind in class; it made him realise how much he’d neglected me. After that, things were better. He talked to me, about my mother, and how much he missed her. He would hug me and cry, and tell me how sorry he was that he hadn’t been looking after me. But he never once asked me how I felt. Inside, I was crying too, but he couldn’t see that. He couldn’t see past his own grief.’

Betsy gently urged him on. ‘What was she like, your mother?’

He smiled, a soft, loving smile. ‘Best mother ever. She was caring and understanding. And small, much like you. She always knew what to say and when to say it. Oh, and she could be so funny. She made us all laugh with her silly jokes and made-up stories.’ His voice caught with emotion. ‘She was more than my mother. She was a special friend. I never felt lonely when she was around.’

When the emotion threatened to overwhelm him, he took a moment to compose himself before going on. ‘After my teacher came round to see him, Dad worried they might send social services to check up on us. So, eventually he found a married couple to come and stay. Joan and Tom were lovely – they were a great help to Dad on the farm, and Joan used to make me all my favourite puddings. I was so upset when they went to live at the seaside. Dad was, too.’

An enormous grin suddenly spread over his face. ‘After that, we had Sheelagh. I’ll never forget her, Betsy. She made our house really happy again … But I’ll tell you all about her some other time. Still miss her, all these years later, you know. She was like a second mother, for the short time she was with us. As for Dad, looking back, I think he fell in love with her, only to be left alone again.’

Restless, Robin got up. ‘For a while when Sheelagh left us, he seemed hellbent on destroying himself again. He turned his back on his business … leaving things to his accountant. It was another really bad period for us – one minute up, the next down. The turning-point came when two of Dad’s best vets left the practice and he had to close down one of his clinics. Then he discovered that his accountant had been stealing huge amounts of money from him. He finally came to his senses, got himself together and picked up the reins. He built on what he had, and now he has those four clinics within a twenty-mile radius. Somehow I got through school without making too much of a mess at it, thanks to Dave, whose mum was a friend of our family.’

Like the others, apart from Dave, Betsy had known nothing of Robin’s background. Now she asked: ‘Do you think you’ll ever meet up with Sheelagh again one day?’

Robin shook his head. ‘Dad did try to find her, but nothing came of it. He stopped looking … said she deserved to have her own life back, if that was why she had gone missing.

‘And has your Dad come to terms with losing your mother and … everything?’

‘He still lives on his own and works far too hard. I’m his only child, and that’s why he was so disappointed when I wouldn’t join him in the family business.’

‘He sounds like a determined bloke.’

‘He is. But so am I, and he won’t change my mind.’ Robin grinned down at her.

‘Do you look like your dad?’ she asked.

‘Hmm … not much. I’ve been told I take after my grandad on my mother’s side.’

‘So, what did he look like?’

Smiling broadly, Rob gave Betsy a little playful shove. ‘Oh, you know – handsome, well-built, and with this animal magnetism that women couldn’t resist …’ They were still chuckling 0a, arm-in-arm, they arrived at the phone box.

Robin asked if she wanted to come inside with him, out of the cold.

Betsy graciously refused. ‘I don’t want to eavesdrop on your conversation,’ she said, stepping back. ‘I’ll wait out here.’

As it was, she couldn’t help but pick up some of the conversation, because the evening was unusually clear, and Robin’s voice could be easily heard.

‘Yes, Dad, everything’s fine. Yes, I would tell you if it wasn’t. No, I don’t need any money – I already told you, I’m getting my accommodation and meals free at the hospital.’

There followed a short pause during which Robin turned and rolled his eyes at Betsy through the glass. ‘No, I haven’t reconsidered,’ she heard him say patiently ‘… and I wish you’d stop asking me, because it only causes friction.’

Another pause. ‘I’m in the booth at the bottom of North Park Street. No, I’m not on my own. My friend Betsy’s waiting outside.’ Another slight pause before he chuckled and said, ‘I don’t think she’d appreciate you saying that.’

The conversation was ended with Robin assuring his father, ‘You know I will. I’ve said before many times, I don’t mind helping out with the animals when I’m home. I just don’t want to do it for a living.’ He nodded. ‘Okay, Dad. Take care of yourself. Talk again soon.’

When he emerged from the booth, Betsy asked him, ‘What did you mean when you said I wouldn’t appreciate that?’

The boy grinned. ‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Tell me!’

‘Well, for some reason, he thinks you’re my girlfriend.’

‘I see. And that worries you, does it?’

Concerned that she might have been offended, Robin changed the subject. ‘He should not assume things. He has a way of doing that – like thinking I would naturally follow him into veterinary medicine, without ever actually talking to me about it.’

‘I suppose he just wants what’s best for you.’ Disappointed that he had chosen to shift the conversation on to a less personal level, Betsy nevertheless played along. But all the time she wanted to shout out, ‘I’d love to be your girlfriend! The first day I met you, I knew I wanted to be part of your life!’

But she made no mention of her feelings, and neither did Robin. Instead, they walked on together, chatting of other things. There was to be a student fashion show soon, and one of the models would be wearing a dress designed by Betsy herself.

‘I can see you being one of the best designers in the country,’ Robin told her proudly.

‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ Betsy was not one to brag. But in truth, she had already set her heart on establishing her own label one day.

They were almost home, when Betsy whispered, ‘She’s there again … look.’

Against the soft background lighting of the next-door front bedroom was the silhouette of a woman.

‘Sometimes I want to knock on her door and make friends with her,’ Betsy told Robin. ‘She must be so lonely.’

The boy looked down on this lovely young woman beside him, and his heart was warmed. ‘You know your trouble?’ he said tenderly.

She looked up. ‘No. But I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

He took a moment to regard her, that small uplifted face and those appealing dark eyes, and he felt the urge to kiss her right there and then. Not wishing to frighten her away, he answered, ‘You’re far too nice for your own good.’

He desperately wanted to tell her how he felt, but some instinct held him back. Besides, if she’d wanted to be his woman, she had had her chance to say something back there when he told her what his dad had said, about her being his girlfriend. Anyway, a girl like Betsy, talented and pretty with an exciting future before her – why would she be interested in a humble young doctor like him? Though there was a fleeting moment when he was tempted to convey his true feelings. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, and twice he could not bring himself to say anything.

So, the moment passed, and with it his opportunity to tell her how he felt.

As they went up the steps and into the house, Betsy never knew how close he had come to sharing this last secret with her. From the relative safety of her hiding place, the woman watched them disappear into the house. ‘So young,’ she sighed. ‘Such a lovely couple.’ She drew away. ‘My life is over now, but they’ve got all their lives in front of them. Don’t be like me … so much heartache,’ she muttered brokenly. ‘Don’t waste your chances of happiness.’

Turning from the window, she drew the curtains together and ambled across the room to the sideboard. In the light from the small lamp, she opened the drawer and took out a bundle of papers tied with string.

Taking them with her to the chair, she sat down and for a moment made no move to open the bundle. Instead she laid herself back in the chair, and allowed the anger to envelop her. ‘I stood up to him once,’ she murmured proudly, ‘Oh, but he was such an evil man … an evil, evil man!’

Taking a moment to compose herself, she then untied the string and laid it carefully across her lap, then the same with the bulk of the parcel. Rummaging through the photographs, she found the one she was looking for. It was a photograph of herself many years ago. She gazed down on it with fondness. ‘That was me!’ she whispered incredulously. ‘I may be haggard and worn now, but there was a time when I could hold my head high.’

Clothed in a clinging dress that drew in at the waist and fell naturally over her young figure, and with her long dark hair caught in a black bandana about her head, she looked amazing. ‘I remember that dress as it was yesterday,’ she chuckled joyfully. ‘Purest ivory it was, with a sweetheart neckline, and a teasing split at the hem …’ She laughed out loud. ‘Cost me a week’s wages it did!’

Her mood sobered. ‘That was the night it all started to go wrong,’ she whispered, laying the photograph on her lap.

Having taken a few minutes to reminisce, she glanced again at the photograph and a whimsical expression crept over her features. ‘Was that really me,’ she asked wonderingly, ‘with a figure like that … up there on the stage with everyone looking at me, listening to me sing …’ She tried to recall the feelings, but like so much of her past, they were pushed to the depths of her mind.

She looked again at herself as a young woman with the world at her feet, and a sense of desolation took hold of her. ‘Come on now!’ she reprimanded herself. ‘It won’t hurt to remember the way it was … the laughter, the songs. You did nothing wrong, you have to remember that.’

Shyly glancing down to study the photograph once more, she gave a hearty laugh. ‘What a dress! And look at the black patent-leather high heels, oh, and the silk-stockings. It’s all coming back … and how it riled him, when the men couldn’t take their eyes off me.’ She groaned. ‘Hmh! If they could see me now, they wouldn’t even help me across the road, and who could blame them, eh?’

Standing the photograph on the mantelpiece, she began gently swirling and dancing around, losing herself in the joy of yesteryear. In her head she could hear the soft music of her favourite song, ‘I Believe’. Twirling and swaying, she began to sing …

One of her all time favourite songs was ‘I Believe’. As she sang it how her heart was filled with joy as the poignant words took her back over the years …

All alone now, with no audience and no wickedness waiting for her, she danced in the twilight, lost herself in the song, and for a while she felt incredibly free. It was easy to imagine herself back there, in the night club, with the people looking up, their hearts and minds tuned into the song and the music.

But always in the wings or leaning on the bar … he was there watching … waiting.

She could see him now, dark and menacing in her mind’s eye. It was a bad feeling.

PART TWO

London, 1978

In the Beginning

CHAPTER THREE

HE HAD ALWAYS been confident that Madeleine would return to him. But on this particular night, he had no inkling that she was about to make a surprise entrance.

Alice Mulligan knew though, and she had done everything in her power to dissuade the girl from coming back to a man who had proved time and time again that he could make her life a misery. But her young friend was utterly besotted with their boss.

Steve Drayton had never accepted any of the blame for the couple’s rows. And this time, as usual, he believed himself to be the injured party.

Turning to Alice, the manageress of his club, the Pink Lady Cabaret Bar off Soho Square, he murmured, ‘If I find out she’s left me for another bloke, I swear to God … she’ll live to regret it.’ He stared at the little Irishwoman suspiciously. ‘You know something about this, don’t you? Thick as thieves, you two are. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if you’d known where she was all along. All right – out with it! Where is she? Is she with another man? Is that why you’re afraid to tell me?’

When Alice chose not to answer, but merely carried on removing notes from the cash register to transfer to the office safe, he grabbed her by the shoulders and almost lifted her off her feet. ‘Answer me, woman!’ he hissed. ‘Where is she?’

‘Well now, you’d best ask her that yourself, hadn’t you? You being the big boss-man an’ all.’ Small in stature but big in courage, Alice had been around the block a few times and was not one to be intimidated by the likes of Steve Drayton.

‘Don’t you get clever with me,’ he growled. ‘No one’s indispensable, lady!’

With a flick of her head, Alice gestured to the door. ‘Like I said, she’s here now, so you can ask her yourself, can’t you?’

The open street-door sent a rush of cool air through the smoke-filled haze of the nightclub. Curious, he glanced up, and there she was: the Songbird, star of the show – his woman.

Though secretly relieved to see her, Steve was inwardly seething with anger, vowing that he would make the bitch pay for humiliating him. But he was cunning enough not to show his feelings here, in front of all these adoring people. Madeleine was a valuable asset, the reason why his club had flourished. In the early days, when he had let his gambling habits get the better of him, her charismatic appeal and popularity as a singer had brought him back from the brink of financial ruin. He still owed money to some undesirable types, but was reluctant to settle his debts. Steve Drayton never liked to pay what he owed. Arrogant and selfish, he played on his sexual appeal to get what he wanted – from women – and sometimes from men, too.

In the three weeks or so since Maddy had gone on the trot, his takings had dipped to an uncomfortable level. Deeply concerned, Steve had searched high and low, had even put the word out on the streets, but to no avail. The girl had simply disappeared.

Meanwhile, Steve had recruited other entertainers but they were no substitute for Madeleine. She had a certain special something – the punters came back to hear her time and again. ‘Songbird’ was what all the regulars called her. Or, ‘our own Pink Lady’ when she wore one of her glamorous pink stage dresses. Her accompanying musicians, pianist and bass-player Dave and Dino, were very grumpy without her. In desperation, with clients and money rapidly dwindling, Steve had been forced to sack the odd cleaner and even one of his two chefs but that was merely throwing out ballast to keep the ship afloat.

The truth was, only the loyal and the believers had continued to frequent his bar, in the hope that she would be back.

Well, here she was, and now the atmosphere was charged with excitement. But for all that, he was determined to teach her a lesson.

Shoving Alice aside, he gave a cynical smile. ‘Here she comes, strolling in as though she hasn’t a care in the world.’

For what seemed an age, Madeleine paused to glance across the club, her dark eyes seeking him out. And then she was moving towards him, and despite himself, he felt his pulse quicken.

In that darkened room with the soft music playing in the background, all eyes were turned on the woman.

Of petite build and with a certain quiet beauty, she wended her way between the clients, acknowledging their greetings with a ready smile and a friendly word and, much to the annoyance of the man who laid claim to her affections, occasionally accepting a kiss on the cheek.

Steve Drayton’s hungry eyes followed her every step of the way. In spite of his violent temper and his liking for anything in a skirt, the sight of Madeleine could still thrill him like no other. With her mass of rich chestnut hair tumbling to her shoulders, and that lazy, swaying walk which had first attracted him to her, she could turn any man’s head.

She was uniquely talented, yet even now, when she could see how much they thought of her, Madeleine did not seem to realise just how good she was. In truth, she possessed a kind of childish innocence that shone from within. Up there on the stage, when the music filled the room and her voice cut to their hearts, she was magnificent. When the music had died down and her voice was still, she became shy and hesitant, almost naïve in her trust of others. She had fallen under Steve’s spell after auditioning for the club two years ago. Between boyfriends, and feeling lonely, she had found herself in her new employer’s bed by that first nightfall.

Now, as she stopped to chat with a regular, Steve stared at her and felt the familiar arousal, though it still rankled, the fact that she had walked out on him – without even a phone call to let him know what was going on. No woman had ever done that to him before.

He turned to Alice. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay away for long. Didn’t I tell you she’d be back?’

‘Mebbe so, but she’s a damned fool, so she is!’ As Irish as the Blarney Stone and wick as a leprechaun, Alice Mulligan was herself a force to be reckoned with. ‘It’s a mystery to me how she ever puts up with you.’

‘Women are no mystery to me,’ Steve boasted. ‘I’ve always been able to twist ’em round my little finger.’

‘You’re too clever for your own good, that’s your problem, mister.’ Being a woman of some fifty years, Alice had lovely skin and a slim figure that looked good in her smart business suit. Her blue eyes were alive with vitality. ‘When you said she’d be back, I hoped you might be wrong,’ she sighed. ‘But here she is, an’ may God and all His Saints help her.’