‘Is he after a woman?’ Tiff Clayton ran his fingers through his bleached hair.
‘Surely not.’ Freddo frowned over his pint. ‘He’s gay isn’t he?’
‘No! Is he? Really? Do you know? Or are you guessing?’
‘Well,’ Freddo blustered, ‘I’ve never seen him with a wench, never heard him talk about one, never … I just assumed.’
‘Clancy’s all man, all right,’ Ricky assured them. ‘But he’s never bothered much with women in all the years I’ve known him.
None of his girlfriends have become permanent fixtures. He always says he’s looking for the perfect woman.’
‘Daft sod!’ Tiff Clayton roared with laughter. ‘The imperfect ones are always the best!’
Ricky drained the dregs of his beer. ‘Clancy seems to prefer his own company, that’s all.’
‘What a waste,’ Amber said idly. ‘He’d be a great catch. Even at his age, he’s pretty damn gorgeous with those eyes and that
hair and that body and the way he smiles and walks and—’
They were all looking at her.
‘Oh, blimey Moses crikey O’Reilly!’ she muttered, using one of Gwyneth’s favourite expressions, as the realisation hit her
like a ten-ton truck. ‘I would think that, wouldn’t I? They’re so much alike! Why didn’t I notice it before? Ohmy-God!’
‘Want to share?’ Freddo leaned across the table. ‘Fancy our Clancy, do you?’
Amber shook her head and looked quickly round the bar. There was no sign of Clancy Tavistock.
Oh, hell’s teeth – what on earth had she done?
What had she so flippantly asked Cassiopeia for? For Fern and Timmy to get together – sorted; and for Zillah to find happiness
with the man she loved; and for Lewis to be reunited with his father.
She gulped, feeling very, very sick – Cassie had scored a double-whammy with the last two, then.
How else could it have happened? It had to be astral magic. It would take a trillion-to-one chance for it to happen by sheer
coincidence.
Oh-my-God!
Zillah, who had refilled her glass of water, was standing in the back doorway, watching the bats sweep and dart in the velvet
darkness, listening to the moths fumble clumsily against the outside lantern, enjoying the peace.
‘Zillah.’
She froze. Every part of her skin was ice cold and red hot at the same time.
‘Zil?’
She exhaled. She wasn’t going to faint. Not this time.
She turned round slowly, willing it not to be him. Wanting it to be him so badly that it hurt.
‘Hello,’ he smiled at her with tears in his eyes. ‘You haven’t changed one bit.’
‘Neither have you.’ Her voice was croaky. She cleared her throat. ‘Um—’
She was trembling so badly that the glass tumbled from her hands and shattered on the tiles. She watched the iced water trickle
in rivulets round her feet.
He didn’t move. ‘When we came into the pub earlier, I just caught a glimpse of you behind the bar and I wondered – I thought
– but then, I’ve spent the last thirty years thinking that I’ve seen you on buses and trains and in supermarket queues and—’
He stopped and took a breath. ‘And I knew, of course, that tonight it wasn’t going to be you again – then you weren’t there
and they said you’d been taken ill and it wasn’t until just now, when they mentioned your name …’
‘So, if I’d been called Susan or Ann—’ She tried to laugh but it sounded like a sob.
‘Zil,’ he took one step forward and stopped again. ‘Did you see me? Did you know it was me?’
She shook her head.
‘Thought
it was. Might be. For a fleeting moment. That’s all.’
‘And you fainted? Really? I mean – you’re OK? I mean – oh, Christ, Zillah – I don’t know what I mean. Don’t know what I’m
saying. Don’t know what’s happening.’
She looked at him and swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Neither do I. And yes, I passed out because, because – well, you
know why – and I’m perfectly OK now – and – and I can’t believe this is really happening.’
They both took a step forward and hesitated.
‘I went mad trying to find you,’ Clancy said, pushing his hair away from his eyes in the old familiar gesture that had haunted
Zillah’s dreams. ‘When you didn’t answer my letters …’
‘I didn’t get any letters. And you didn’t answer mine.’
‘I didn’t receive any either. And I tried ringing the house in Kilburn as soon as we arrived in Munich and someone said
you’d gone and hadn’t left a forwarding address and—’
‘I had to leave Kilburn within two days of you leaving the UK because the house was being sold. I wrote to you, care of your
management offices, asking for the letters to be forwarded. Telling you where I was, what was happening.’
‘I didn’t get them,’ he said again.
And then they were both talking at once, and eventually managed to unravel that the new management company must have destroyed
both sets of forwarded letters, strictly enforcing the ‘no women’ clause in Solstice Soul’s contract. These days there wouldn’t
be a problem – but back then all musicians had to be seen to be young, free and single by order of their managers. It meant,
they believed, that the fans would think they were still in with a chance of one day capturing the heart of their particular
favourite. Even the Beatles had had to deny their wives, hadn’t they?
‘I thought you’d found a nice scholarly professor with whom to spend the rest of your life.’
‘No way. I just thought,’ she said shakily, ‘that you’d found someone else on tour.’
‘How could I? I loved you so much, Zil. I – I thought you’d forgotten about me and gone back to university.’
‘No, I never went back. And I tried to contact you everywhere – but even the record company said they had no information.’
‘Solstice Soul split before we’d finished touring Europe. It wasn’t the same with the new management – fights over money,
too many drugs, too much of everything. It stopped being fun. I walked out on them and the record company were furious because
we’d broken our contract. I knew they’d try and sue for the breach, so I gave them no information at all.’
Zillah tried to work some saliva into her dry mouth.
Clancy shrugged. ‘When I got back and found you’d disappeared off the face of the earth, I rang Oxford – tried to find your
old college, your home address, anything. It was like trying to squeeze state secrets out of James Bond.’
Zillah wanted to cry for all those wasted years.
‘I never forgot you, but after a while I stopped trying to find you,’ Clancy continued softly. ‘I assumed you didn’t want
to be found.’
‘Me too. I searched for a while and then – well – just shut you out of my life. Of course, it would be so much easier now,
wouldn’t it? With mobile phones and texts and emails and friends-bloody-reunited …’
Clancy nodded. ‘So – are you married?’
She shook her head. ‘Never. You?’
‘No. Various relationships. None of them particularly successful.’
‘And now?’
‘No one.’ His eyes were tired. ‘You?’
She shook her head. ‘No. And are you happy?’
‘Mostly,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve had an OK life – well, eventually. I’ve done lots of different stuff – session musician, teaching
guitar, some studio work, then I went back to playing live music about ten years ago. The JB Roadshow are a great bunch. We’ve
always been in work. We make a good living. I suppose I’m happier now than – well, than at any time without you. What about
you?’
Zillah sighed. ‘Much the same. I’ve lived here for thirty years. Worked in the pub. Life’s been OK. Good, really.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Do you still live in London?’
‘No – I stay there when I have to, but it’s not where I call home. I tend to drift. I own a flat in Henley, by the river,
bought with the money from Solstice Soul years ago. I let it out mostly, but sometimes I stay there … I suppose that’s more
my permanent home than anywhere else.’
Zillah ran her fingers through her hair. She felt very tired. Drained. In all her fantasies she’d imagined that if she and
Clancy ever found each other again they’d fly into each other’s arms, lovers again, and simply pick up where they left off.
But how could they? They’d had a lifetime apart. They were virtual strangers now. Different people.
Clancy leaned against the table. ‘Zil, I’m not dreaming this, am I? I mean – this has been my dream for as long as I can remember
and I’m so bloody confused now. I don’t know if I’m awake or asleep. How did this happen? Tonight? Now? After all this time?
How?’
Zillah took a deep breath. She thought she might have a good idea.
‘Do you believe in magic?’
He grinned at her. ‘You mean you’re a witch and this is the result of some voodoo spell? Nah, Zil – I’m not buying that.’
‘Astral magic,’ Zillah said. ‘I didn’t really believe in it either, but now …’
‘You’ve lived here too long,’ he said gently. ‘Freddo was telling us about all the star-wishing that goes on here – you surely
don’t really think …?’
‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. No one here knows about you … about us. I didn’t make any sort of star-wishes if that’s
what you mean, but maybe someone else did. On our behalf?’
‘Why? Who else would know about us? Who else would care? No – that’s all too silly for words. Mind you, if they did, then
I’m very, very grateful to them whoever they are.’ He took a deep breath. ‘So, what happens now? Where do we go from here?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
The silence was interrupted by Amber appearing in the kitchen doorway.
‘Er – I’m really sorry to barge in, but they’re getting a bit restive out there because it’s Clancy’s round and Freddo wanted
to come in and haul him out and Tiff thinks that he’s missing out on some assignation and they all want to know where he’s
gone and I sort of guessed – er – and Lewis and Jem are back from the gents and I thought it was better if I came in rather
than Lewis because … because …’
Zillah shook her head. Lewis! Oh, God!
‘OK, love.’ she nodded at Amber. ‘Clancy’s just on his
way out and—’ She stopped. ‘What did you say? What did you mean about you sort of guessed?’
Amber scuffed the tiled floor with the toe of her sandal. ‘Er – well, I knew Clancy hadn’t gone out of the pub or to the loo
and I knew you were still in here and so I guessed he was in here with you and – oh, hell, Zillah! He is, isn’t he? You know
…’
Zillah, trying to crank her brain into gear, nodded. ‘Look, Amber – if Clancy goes out to the bar to get his round in, can
you ask Lewis to come in here please. Preferably without Jem. We need to talk.’
Clancy frowned. ‘Now you’ve really lost me. What am I? And I thought Lewis was Amber’s bloke? Isn’t he? God, Zil – he’s not
your toy boy, is he?’
‘I’ve been a toy boy on several very enjoyable occasions in the past –’ Lewis stuck his head round the door, laughing ‘– but
even in this kissing-cousin village I’d draw the line at—’
‘Lewis,’ Zillah cut in quickly, ‘I need a word.’ Or several million. All impossible.
‘OK – Amber can keep an eye on Jem for a minute, can’t you?’
‘Yes, sure …’ Reluctantly, Amber disappeared back into the bar.
Zillah looked at them – Lewis and Clancy – standing so close together and wondered why neither of them could see the resemblance.
Lewis had inherited so many of Clancy’s features, so many of his mannerisms, he’d always been so like his father.
Clancy moved away from the table. ‘I guess I’d better go too. Freddo can get quite unpleasant if anyone skips their round—’
‘No, please stay,’ Zillah muttered, her blood roaring in her ears. ‘Just for a moment.’
‘Are you all right?’ Lewis’s eyes were filled with concern. ‘You’re not feeling faint again, are you? You’ve gone really pale.
God, Ma—’
‘Ma?’ Clancy frowned.
‘Ma?
You mean, Zillah is your
mother?’
‘Yeah. Why?’ Lewis looked at Clancy. ‘Jeeze – you didn’t really think I was—’
‘Lewis,’ Zillah held up her hands. ‘There’s no easy way to say this to either of you but—’
‘You are ill!’ Lewis exploded. ‘I knew it! But –’ he shook his head towards Clancy ‘– what’s he got to do with this? You’ve
only just met him – why is he in here anyway? I mean—’
Zillah’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Lewis – listen. Clancy is your father. Clancy, meet the son you never knew you had …’
Moonlight And Roses
Two weeks later, Fiddlesticks was still a-buzz.
The Zillah + Clancy = Lewis revelations had rocked the village to its dry and dusty foundations.
Sadly, Gwyneth and Big Ida’s early rain star spells hadn’t produced the goods. The sky remained resolutely clear, the sun
scorched from dawn to dusk, and the hosepipe ban was still firmly in place. Even the stream had dried to a thin sluggish ribbon,
with small children standing in it, wearing floppy hats and suncream and nothing else, looking despondent. Everyone was wilting
and praying tonight’s collective Leo’s Lightning incantation would bring at least a dribble of water to the parched village.
Fern and Amber, sprawled under the willows wearing as little as possible, far more interested in the Zillah-Clancy stuff than
the weather, had been over and over the implications.
‘So, what are they doing now? Zil and Clancy?’ Fern’s tongue protruded from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on
constructing a daisy-chain. ‘Making up for lost time? Shagging like rabbits?’
‘Fern!’
‘Well, wouldn’t you be? After all those wasted years
apart? And he is bloody gorgeous – even though he must be ancient as hell.’
‘Pot-kettle-black?’ Amber sniffed. ‘After all, aren’t you slipping between the stripy flannelette sheets of someone who also
belongs to the tea, toast and Terry Wogan brigade?’
‘Timmy has a duvet and Wogan is cool …’ Fern began, and then laughed. ‘Oh, I get it. Joke. Sarcasm does not become a laydee,
my dear – so sod off. And we’re not discussing me here, we’re discussing Zil and the wrinkly rocker – so give.’
‘Nothing to tell. And if there was, I wouldn’t. So there.’
Actually, Amber knew no more than Fern. As far as she was aware, Zillah and Clancy had been seeing each other on a sort of
getting-to-know-you basis. Discreetly meeting away from the village for their dates, there had been no sign of Clancy sneaking
in or out of Chrysalis Cottage. Even Gwyneth and Big Ida, delighted by the reunion, hadn’t been able to shed much light on
any developments.