‘Just so long as she’s ’appy, duck,’ Gwyneth had said, her eyes misty, ‘that’s enough for us. That gel ’as been like a daughter
to me an’ Ida. She deserves some real happiness at long last. And she’s just glowin’ now – proper warms the cockles of your
heart, it does.’
It did, Amber had to admit, and it had also lifted her huge burden of guilt over the affair. She’d decided, however well things
had turned out, to stay forever silent about her involvement. To be honest, the whole Cassiopeia manifestation love-wish thing
had scared her rigid.
She’d never, ever mock astral magic again.
Then there’d also been the question of her own future to consider. Should she go or should she stay? Ever since Plough Night,
Amber had been more than occupied with Hubble Bubble, with dozens of bookings coming in, and Mitzi – absolutely delighted
about the Zil-Clancy reunion – had not only made her a permanent member of staff, but also press-ganged her into signing up
for the college course.
‘I don’t know if I’m stopping here, yet …’
‘Of course you’re stopping!’ Mitzi had been scathing. ‘Where else would you go, for heaven’s sake? This is your home now –
and I for one couldn’t manage without you.’
Her parents, happily settled in the Andalucian goat shed, with both Coral and Topaz in love with someone called Carlos – whether
it was the same someone called Carlos, Amber wasn’t quite sure, but knowing Coral and Topaz’s cat-fighting prowess she sincerely
hoped not – had been delighted. However, Jemma and Emma and Kelly and Bex had been scandalised when she’d told them she was
going to be staying on in Fiddlesticks for a while longer. And even more scandalised that there was no man involved in her
decision.
Lewis.
She hadn’t seen Lewis at all.
She was sure, after the shock of being introduced to his father, he’d chosen to keep very much out of the way. After all,
it must have turned his whole world upside down. It was an awful lot to come to terms with. Fern had reported that he seemed
OK at Hayfields, and that Jem was ecstatic that Lewis now had what he considered a proper family, but that no one had actually
been brave enough to broach the subject with him.
‘We’ll see him tonight, though.’ Fern rolled on to her back and placed her daisy chain tiara on top of her curls. ‘He’ll be
at Leo’s Lightning. Wonder if Zil will bring the Rock’n’Roll Love God?’
‘Like you care,’ Amber snorted. ‘I’ve seen you sneaking out of The Weasel and Bucket in the misty hours of dawn looking like
someone who hasn’t spent all night discussing the alcohol percentage volume of the various beers.’
Fern gurgled. ‘Oh, Timmy is sooo good. I’m having the best sex ever.’
‘Far, far too much information.’ Amber pulled a face. ‘But I’m glad you’re happy.’
‘I’m not happy – I’m ecstatic. So, that’s me sorted, and Zil, so who does that leave?’
‘Bog off. Don’t even think about it. I’ve told you a million times, Lewis and I are friends – nothing more. Even if – big,
big if – he did decide he wanted it to be more, I couldn’t cope with being just one of many. Been there, done that, no intention
of repeating the experience.’
‘We’ll see.’ Fern rolled on to her ample stomach and started plucking more daisies. ‘I’ll monitor the progress, or otherwise,
tonight. Win is going to be with all the Hayfields crew for Leo’s, so I’m working behind the bar. I’m practising for my rest-of-life
role: Fern Pluckrose, Landlady and Bon Viveur. Bet you’re really jealous, huh?’
Amber stretched on her back, the sun sizzling down, and sighed.
Zillah walked barefooted on to the balcony, her long lilac dress soft against her skin, and leaned against the white railings.
Below, a myriad boats moved silently through the burnished river. The sun-ripples reflected in kaleidoscope prisms all around
her. It was elegant and luxurious, cool out here compared with the searing heat of the day, and so blissfully peaceful.
Clancy’s Henley apartment was wonderful. Spacious, comfortable and decorated in cream and pale green and dove grey; it almost
seemed part of the river. They’d spent a lot of time here in the last two weeks, talking, crying, laughing, catching up.
It seemed to Zillah that the years had all concertina’d together. Before, there had been the Clancy years and the non-Clancy
years: now those non-C decades seemed to have passed in a flash. Not that she felt the years alone had been wasted: she’d
raised Lewis, and kept a roof over their heads, and had a life. No one could ever have replaced Clancy in her heart, so why
should she have ever considered settling for second best?
Today they’d driven out to Marlow for lunch, invisible amongst all the other summer diners, and come back to Henley and strolled
by the river. There was still much to
say, so much to talk about, but now it didn’t matter. Now they had forever to do it in.
The years had simply rippled away.
‘OK?’ Clancy walked out onto the balcony and stood beside her, close but not touching, leaning on the balcony rail. His feet,
like hers, were bare. The sun had turned his skin to butterscotch, and streaked his hair with gold. His jeans were faded and
his T-shirt showed his in-shape body.
He was still the most beautiful boy in the world.
‘More than OK, thanks. It’s been a blissful day. I’m really enjoying this … this – whatever it is we’re doing.’
‘Courting?’ Clancy grinned. ‘Or is that too old-fashioned for words?’
‘Courting sounds lovely to me. Walking, talking, getting to know each other all over again, simply going out together – dating
… After all, we didn’t do any of it before, did we?’
Laughing, Clancy shook his head. ‘Love and lust at first sight didn’t leave us much room for the formalities back then, did
it? I didn’t even know your surname for three weeks – and we’d spent most of those in bed.’
Zillah giggled. ‘Great, wasn’t it?’
He nodded, smiling. ‘The best.’
‘Mmmm.’ Zillah shivered with the delicious memories, then leaned further over the balcony, watching a couple trying to moor
a punt, laughing together. ‘Do you know, I just don’t understand how you can ever bear to ever leave this place. It’s so perfect.’
‘It’s just a shell,’ he sighed. ‘Or at least it has been. A pretty nice shell, granted, but empty, soulless, lonely – like
me. OK to come home to when the travelling has become too much, but otherwise I’m happy to rent it out on short terms, and
sometimes used to think I never wanted to see it again.’
‘I think I expected it to be full of soul band memorabilia.’ She smiled at him. ‘You know, photos of gigs and wild celebrity
parties, and the platinum disc for ‘Summer and
Winter’ framed on the wall of the downstairs loo, and a spare Gibson Les Paul or two suspended from the ceiling …’
‘I tried that. It didn’t work. It was just pretentious – and whatever else I am, I don’t think I’ve ever been that. Anyway,’
he said cheerfully, ‘my letting agent told me I’d got to keep the flat as straight and impersonal as possible if I was intending
to rent it out to visiting businessmen and their families who might just think it was some sort of rock-’n’roll den of iniquity.’
‘That was the house in Kilburn, wasn’t it? Wild, or what?’ She laughed. ‘And I played the album again this morning. I haven’t
played it for years – not ever really, not since … but it’s never off the turntable now. I’m in danger of wearing it out.’
‘Actually, it’s being reissued on CD in the autumn – to tie in with Soul Survivors, a big nationwide soul band tour. They’re
bringing over some of the really big names from the States to tour the UK for six months. Every promoter in the country is
jumping on the soul bandwagon. Freddo was talking about us cutting a quick JB Roadshow album to throw in as well.’
‘I’d buy it,’ Zillah grinned. ‘Then I’d have two to drive the neighbours insane with. But however good it is, it’ll never
be the same as Summer and Winter.’
‘Do you really still like it? Does it still sound good?’
‘Better than good. It’s brilliant – and so much more than that. It’s us, our life, back then. Vivid. Every song has a memory
attached. A place, a town, a beach, a party … us, together. Do you – will you – as the JB Roadshow, be playing the same stuff?’
‘At the Harvest Moon gig?’ He shrugged teasingly. ‘You’ll have to wait and see. You’ll probably think we’re pretty crap now
– after all, you heard it all first when it was young and fresh.’
‘Mmmm. Like us? Still, we’ve worn pretty well, haven’t we? No reason why your music should have gone downhill, is there?’
‘No reason at all,’ Clancy said, his eyes, like hers, drowsy with memories.
They stood in relaxed contemplation for a while, watching a pleasure cruiser glide past beneath them, the tourists all sunburnt
and laughing, trying to feed the swans, pretending to topple overboard.
Clancy broke the silence.
‘How’s Lewis?’
‘Doing OK,’ she said slowly. ‘Getting his head round it, was how he put it. He likes you very much – you know that, and is
delighted to know about his background at last, and says as long as I’m happy then he’s happy.’
‘But?’
‘I didn’t say there was a but.’
‘You didn’t need to.’
Zillah laughed. ‘You always could read my mind. Oh, it’s not a huge but. I think, now he knows the truth about everything,
that I wasn’t a floozy and that you didn’t do a runner because I was pregnant, he’s much happier – but he’s scared.’
‘He’s not the only one.’ Clancy pushed his hair away from his eyes. It immediately fell back again. ‘I’m absolutely bloody
terrified.’
‘Are you?’ Zillah looked at him. He still had freckles on his nose. She used to kiss them. ‘Why?’
‘You know why. Lewis isn’t the only one having to come to terms with the father-son thing, is he? I’m eaten up with guilt
about all that. Thinking of you, on your own, having a baby – our baby – and me not knowing, and you thinking that I’d stopped
loving you, that I’d left you … And now, our baby is a man – a really great bloke to boot – and I’ve missed so much, and I
don’t know how to handle it. Where to start.’
‘We can’t change the past. We can’t go back, so regrets are pointless. Oh, I’ve always regretted losing you – but I’ve never
once, not even for a nanosecond, regretted leaving college and doing what we did. And you’re doing
just fine with the present. So is Lewis.’ Zillah smiled gently. ‘You’re very much alike.’
Clancy shook his head. ‘He does look a lot like me, yes. I don’t know why I didn’t think about that before – but he’s got
your brains, going to uni, doing the job he does, and your compassion and your sense of humour and—’
‘Your charm and patience and gentleness.’
Clancy laughed. ‘Pretty good so far – so why is he scared?’
‘Because he thinks you’ll leave me, I guess. Because that’s all he’s ever grown up with: me alone, him not knowing about you,
not being sure why – I mean I know you both sort of understand why I decided not to tell him – what was the point when I thought
you’d dumped me? That would only hurt him more. And now he’s scared that just when he’s found the final piece of his jigsaw,
this – this perfect bliss will end.’
‘And will it?’
‘How do I know?’ Zillah traced the outline of the tiles with her bare toe.
Clancy sighed. ‘You see – that’s what I’m scared of too. Losing you again. I’d die. Honestly. I thought I was going mad, going
to die of a broken heart the first time, but now, having found you again and – well, there simply wouldn’t be any point in
going on. Zillah – I want to spend the rest of my life with you.’
She didn’t say anything. A family of ducks paddled past in the glittering river below, leaving a perfect V wash in their wake.
‘Zil? Oh, hell – I haven’t got this all wrong, have I?’
She turned to him, shaking her head.
‘Are you crying? Oh, Zil …’
Then she was in his arms, for the first time in thirty years, and he kissed her and her body dissolved with lust. Oh, God
… it felt absolutely wonderful.
Just like the first time.
*
‘What time’s this rain-dance thingy?’ Clancy stretched lazily. ‘Have we missed it?’
‘Don’t think so.’ Zillah opened her eyes. ‘It’s still daylight – unless it’s tomorrow already, of course. I’ve kind of lost
track of time.’
‘Me, too.’
They giggled together.
The river reflected in shifting watermark shadows on the ceiling of the dove-grey bedroom. It was still stifling despite the
soft whirr and best efforts of the colonial fan. The white sheets, a tangle of Egyptian cotton, had long since fallen to the
floor. A slight breeze wafted through the open balcony doors, shivering softly through the long white voile drapes.
It had been amazing.
The years had fallen away. They’d surely never been apart.
Naked almost before they’d left the balcony, unashamed of their bodies, they’d made love with all the passion, all the intensity,
all the pent-up longing and wanting, all the sheer, perfect love of that first time.
Zillah, worried at first about her flesh no longer being velvet smooth, tight, unblemished, had simply melted at his first
touch. She’d trembled beneath his fingers. Nothing mattered. He was beautiful and told her over and over again that she was,
too. The most beautiful woman on earth.
And now she was.
Tumbling together, familiar and yet new, they’d rediscovered each other’s bodies with an urgency and tenderness that had made
her laugh and then cry with pleasure.
‘Zillah …’
She’d turned her head on the deep pillow. ‘Mmmm?’
‘I love you.’
‘I love you too. And I think I’m dreaming.’
Clancy had stroked her hair away from her face. ‘Then let’s hope we never wake up.’
She’d rolled towards him, the soft river air cooling her
heated body. ‘I’ve wanted this for so long, knew it would never happen, thought that maybe I’d imagined how it used to be
He’d pulled her into his arms, kissing her again. ‘Me too. Oh, God, Zil
And that had been hours ago and since then they’d repeated the experience a couple more times, more slowly, more tantalisingly,
just to reassure themselves that it hadn’t all been a figment. Now, sated, happy, drowsy with love, neither of them really
wanted to get up and shower and get dressed and go back to Fiddlesticks.