Authors: Alison Rose
‘Hell, no!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because the story is over thirty years old. Besides, what would I have in common with an English widow living in – where was it she said? – Wiltshire? Where is that?’
‘I have no idea.’
He shrugged. ‘Anyway, I doubt a middle-aged hausfrau struggling to keep the family business going will conjure up the same feelings that the teenager did.’
‘Yeah, not everyone wears as well as you, Dad,’ Paul smiled and shook his head.
Johnson sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. ‘Look, son, I admit I’m curious, but leave it alone, OK? It was a long time ago. It’s not healthy to go back.’
Paul looked at his father considering whether or not push it. He loved his dad, and wanted him to be happy. This Alexandra, or Sandy as he’d called her, had made him real happy once, although judging by the lyrics in the
Dream Woman
album, she’d hurt him but good too. Paul’s own mother hadn’t touched him as deeply as the English girl had. He’d realised that from listening to the album, and he thought that his mother had known it too. Which is probably why she and Dad had divorced; although she was never likely to admit that.
‘Not even for closure?’
‘No.’
‘Have you thought about the possibility that other folks will start looking for the
Dream Woman
?’
‘It’s old news, son. Just leave it, OK?’
Paul could understand his dad’s reluctance, but he had a weird feeling about this. He didn’t think Johnson would appreciate it though, so he shrugged and lifted his hands in surrender. Maybe his own reaction to the woman’s daughter was colouring his judgement.
‘No problem,’ he said, ‘she’s history. Although I’d be interested in seeing a little more – scratch that – a lot more of the delectable Kate. ’
Johnson looked startled. Even Paul was a little shocked at himself. What
was
it about this woman?
‘Really? A journalist?’
He could understand his dad’s surprise. Maybe it was a case of keep your friends close, but your enemies closer? He needed to keep tabs on this woman, just to make sure she wasn’t out to make life difficult for his dad.
‘Yeah. No. Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe to be safe we should double date,’ he joked.
Johnson groaned. ‘Hell no,’ he laughed. ‘You go ahead, son, but leave me out of it.’
‘I guess I never took you for a scaredy-cat, old man.’ Paul gave his dad a playful punch on the shoulder. ‘But right now I’m hungry. So how about taking your son and your security team out to an authentic English pub and introducing them to the delights of fish and chips and ye olde ale? I just know I’m going to love warm beer.’
Alexandra finished planting summer bedding plants on David’s grave. She sat back on her heels and peeled off her gardening gloves as she surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. It felt good to feel the sun again after a miserable spring, and to see the flowers blooming around the churchyard. Her gaze took in the gentle clutter of headstones and monuments around the old church. She had never expected to bury her husband here, at least, not for a long time. But then again, the inscriptions all around her bore witness to other unexpected and unwanted losses. With a sigh she rose, rubbing soil and grass off her knees and stretching out her aching back.
She usually found a measure of peace here, but today she felt oddly restless. As she walked home through the village, she finally realised what was wrong. She was lonely.
Oh, she knew that there were people around she could count on. Good friends, who had supported and comforted her after David’s death. But they’d all got lives and families of their own, so she didn’t expect them to fill the emptiness. She missed her daughter too, but Kate was grown up now and building a career in London. Alex couldn’t expect her to come running home to Mum.
No, Alex knew that she had to sort herself out. She just wasn’t sure that staying here, in the same job and house, was helping her to move on emotionally. Perhaps it was time for a change.
When she reached home she went up to her bedroom to get out of her gardening clothes. As she shrugged out of her shirt she caught sight of herself in the wardrobe mirror and frowned. When had she begun wearing such dull colours? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn a skirt, or shaved her legs for that matter, she realised with a grimace, and her eyebrows could do with reshaping.
Her friend Maggie had been urging her to cut her shoulder-length hair for ages. Alex ran her hands through it, mourning the loss of the rich chestnut colour it had been in her youth. It had gone white quite quickly when she’d hit forty, just as Gran’s had. She’d considered colouring it, but hadn’t bothered in the end, and didn’t want to start fussing with tints now. But a shorter style might look better.
She angled her head to the right, then the left, holding her hair up with one hand, trying to imagine what it would be like. Her face wasn’t too wrinkled, she noticed. Another legacy from Gran – good skin. Nor was her neck too crepey yet. No double chin, although her jaw line was definitely softer than it used to be.
She stripped to her underwear and headed towards the bathroom for a shower. The trouble was, she’d hardly looked at herself since David’s illness – she’d been too busy looking after him at first, and then she simply hadn’t cared what she looked like. But seeing herself now brought her up short.
Even if she didn’t get round to making any big changes, like moving house or changing jobs, she could at least manage the small stuff, she decided. She’d ring Maggie and book that haircut.
By the end of the afternoon she had a new hairstyle and had been talked into booking a day at the local health spa for a top to toe makeover.
‘You’ll love it, Alex,’ Maggie had assured her. ‘A whole day of pampering – sauna, massage, facial, manicure, and pedicure. You won’t know yourself. Just the thing to go with your sexy new hairdo!’
She laughed and ran a self-conscious hand over her short locks. ‘I don’t know about sexy,’ she said wryly, ‘but it certainly makes a difference.’
‘About ten years, I’d say. You’ll have toy boys knocking down your door.’
‘I hope not! I wanted to look better, not ridiculous! Anyway, no self-respecting young man is going to find white hair sexy.’
‘Trust me, you look great. White is the new blonde – I’ve seen quite a few young girls with your colour recently,’ she was assured. ‘It’s good to see you looking so bright. We’ve been worried about you. It’s time for you to get out and live again, Alex. David wouldn’t want you shrivel up and die. You’re still young. Maybe you’ll meet to someone new and get married again.’
‘Hey! How did we get from new hairdos to wedding bells so quickly?’ she joked, touched by her friend’s concern. ‘I can’t imagine it. In fact, the thought of the whole dating process frightens the life out of me. Other than David, I only had one serious boyfriend and that was so long ago I’m embarrassed to admit it.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you’ve only been with two men in your entire life?’ Maggie asked. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘Believe it, my friend. I fell madly in love during my gap year in the States when I was eighteen. Then I came home to look after my gran until she died. David was the curate in our parish and he was a good friend to me during Gran’s final illness. Our relationship just grew from there.’
‘So what about the other guy? Didn’t you keep in touch?’
Alex shook her head. ‘Oh no. It wouldn’t have been practical.’
‘What’s practical about love? Maybe you should look him up – you know, on Facebook or Friends Reunited or something. You hear all sorts of stories of first loves finding each other after years and years. Aren’t you curious to know what he’s doing these days?’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Oh I know exactly what he’s doing. We followed his career for years.’
Maggie looked confused. ‘Why? Is he famous or something?’
‘You could say that.’
‘Well come on, don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it?’
Alex was beginning to feel uncomfortable. ‘Don’t worry about it, Mags, it was so long ago. He was just a kid then and no one had heard of him.’
‘Oh no you don’t! You can’t tease me with this and then clam up. Come on, Alex, tell Auntie Maggie.’
Alex covered her face with her hands, wishing she hadn’t started this. ‘It’s too embarrassing.’
‘Hey, you know plenty of embarrassing stuff about me. That’s what friends are for – to keep our secrets and love us anyway. But I promise I won’t spill the beans to anyone. This is just between you and me. Now stop teasing and tell me!’
Holding up her hands in surrender, Alex gave in. ‘OK, it was Johnson Brand.’
‘Johnson Brand! Are you kidding me?
The
Johnson Brand? The guy who wrote about three million hit songs and is gorgeous to boot?’
He’d been gorgeous then too, Alex remembered. She had fallen for him so quickly and deeply that she thought she would have done anything for him. But in the end, she had had to make a choice and lost him.
‘Mmm. That’s the one,’ she confirmed, no longer enjoying the game. What on earth had persuaded her to start this conversation? She hadn’t talked, or even thought about Johnson for so long. David and Kate had known about it, of course, and every time a new album came out one or other of them had bought it for her.
‘Did you know he’s just starting a tour of the UK?’
Alex could have sworn her heart missed a beat. She’d always imagined Johnson so far removed from her life, the barrier of the Atlantic Ocean between them. The thought of him in the same country was shocking. ‘No. No, I didn’t. Isn’t he a bit old to be doing gigs these days?’
‘Of course he isn’t. Look at Clapton, Jagger, Bob Dylan. Even Elton John. They’re much older and they don’t show any signs of stopping. Johnson Brand is a man in his prime.’
‘Maggie,’ she responded wryly, ‘Johnson Brand is fast approaching middle age, just like me.’
‘You’re not so old. What are you now, forty-two, three?’
‘Bless you for that, but I’m well over fifty, and you know it.’
‘That’s not old. Middle age doesn’t start ’til you’re sixty these days.’
‘Really? You could have fooled me,’ Alex laughed.
‘Is he older or younger than you?’
‘Neither, we’ve got the same birthday. That’s how we met.’
‘Really? That’s sweet. So how did you meet?’
Alex closed her eyes and let a wave of long buried memories come flooding back. She was amazed at how vivid the pictures in her mind were. She could see Johnson sitting with his friends at Pizza Joe’s, the remains of a huge pizza with all the toppings on the table in front of them. His golden hair curling round his collar, a few buttons on his casual shirt undone to reveal the first sprinkling of hair on his teenage chest. He was laughing. Alex had thought that she’d died and gone to heaven, he was so beautiful. She groaned.
‘Alex? Are you OK?’
She opened her eyes and felt hot colour flood her cheeks as she looked at her friend. She’d slipped so deeply into her memories that she’d forgotten Maggie completely. For a brief moment there she had been eighteen again, and falling in love for the first time. She wanted to groan again with embarrassment, and perhaps with the pain of remembering such a sweet moment when she knew how her dreams would be shattered later. But Maggie was looking at her with curiosity and concern.
‘I … I’m fine,’ she stammered, sitting upright and resting her shaking hands on her knees. She looked down, noting the less than youthful outline of her body under the dull fabric of her sweatshirt and joggers. With a sigh she raised her head and gave Maggie a resigned smile.
‘We were celebrating our eighteenth birthdays at the same pizza restaurant. It was a huge place with long wooden tables and benches, a stage, and a dance floor. The pizzas were enormous and everyone ate with their fingers. I’d arrived in America that week and despite having the same language it was a huge culture shock. I’d never been to a restaurant that didn’t supply knives and forks before, and the pizzas were loaded with tons of stringy mozzarella, so you could never pick up a slice without remaining attached to the rest of it. I felt so clumsy and embarrassed and then, oh horror! The ultimate humiliation. Pizza Joe himself got up on the stage and called for all the birthday boys and girls to go up and join him.
‘My new friends were laughing, and I was ready to make a run for the ladies when I spotted this gorgeous boy, being pushed up on stage by his friends. I couldn’t get up there fast enough after that. He even grabbed my hand and helped me climb up. I just stood there like an idiot, staring at him.’
‘Oh Alex!’ Maggie laughed. ‘You’re always so calm and collected I can’t imagine you going ga-ga over a boy!’
Alex twisted a wry smile. ‘I was only eighteen remember, and this is Johnson Brand we’re talking about!’
‘Good point. What happened next?’
‘The tradition at Pizza Joe’s was that anyone who went there on their birthday had to go on stage and have the whole restaurant sing “Happy Birthday” to them. Johnson and I were the only ones that night, so we were well and truly in the spotlight. Pizza Joe was tickled pink that we were both eighteen, and that I was the new exchange student from England. He insisted that we have a dance together.’
‘I don’t believe this. My best friend danced with Johnson Brand and has waited all these years to tell me!’
‘It was an awfully long time ago. We were just kids, and it just wasn’t meant to be.’
‘So you had your chance with Johnson Brand and ended up married to David.’
Alex nodded. Yes, that’s what she’d done. But that simple sentence didn’t go anywhere near explaining the anguish she’d gone through. They’d been inseparable for the rest of the year, but in the end she had had to make a choice, and she had come home.
When she’d met David, she had still been suffering. His gentle loving had finally healed the wounds left by the pain of leaving Johnson behind.
David, her David. The memory of her late husband brought her full circle.
‘That’s right. I married David and had my beautiful Katie.’ She laughed with relief as the tension and old pain drained away. ‘Didn’t I do well?’
She found herself wondering whether Johnson would have approved of her new look. It was startling to realise that she’d been daydreaming about meeting him again. Imagining what he would say, what she would say. Whether they would kiss, and whether his embraces would have the same toe-curling effect, tempting her almost beyond endurance. Oh, she was in a bad way if a decades-old memory was getting her all excited! And why was she thinking about Johnson’s kisses when she ought to be remembering David’s? Dear, sweet David, who had loved her unconditionally for so long. She
did
miss his kisses. She missed
him!
But at least she’d been able to say a proper goodbye to her gentle, loving husband. Perhaps she’d just never got closure on her relationship with Johnson and that was why the memories came back so vividly.
‘Just don’t dismiss the idea of a new romance,’ urged Maggie, unaware of her friend’s wayward thoughts. ‘No one can replace David, that’s a given. But that doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else, you know. None of us knows what the good Lord has planned for us.’
‘You may be right, Maggie,’ Alex responded, not really believing it. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’
Kate waited until she got back to her flat in Forest Hill that evening before she telephoned her mother at home in Wiltshire. She caught Alex just as she was filling the kettle for a cup of tea.
‘Hi, Mum, it’s only me.’
‘Kate, darling, how’s my favourite girl?’
‘I’m fine. I thought you might like an exclusive on my latest interview subject. You’ll never guess who it was.’
Alex smiled. Her little girl, the journalist! ‘Was it a member of the royal family?’
‘Hardly.’
‘One of the archbishops? I’ve always thought John Sentamu would be an interesting subject but I suppose Canterbury has more kudos than York.’
‘Mother, it was not a clergyman. Far from it.’
‘It must be a politician then,’ Alex tried not to laugh at her daughter’s exasperation.
‘I’m working the arts and entertainment desk, as you well know. So stop mucking about and have a proper guess.’
‘It’s not that lovely Colin Firth, is it? I know how much you enjoyed the wet shirt scene in
Pride and Prejudice.
’
Kate sighed. ‘I wish … No. You’re never going to guess,’ she complained.
‘So why don’t you put us both out of our misery?’
‘OK. Are you sitting down?’
‘No, I’m putting the kettle on.’ Kate could hear her mother click the switch. ‘Come on Kate! Get on with it!’
‘OK, it was Johnson Brand.’
Alex felt her knees give way and she leant against the worktop. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. After so many years when she had barely thought about him it seemed as though Johnson Brand was rising up in her world like a phoenix from the ashes of the past.