Winners and Losers (14 page)

Daniel stared after his brother as he strode off, got into his car and set off down the drove. He was angry as he slammed into the van and followed, though a part of his annoyance was due to the fact that his brother was right. Connor earned far more singing with the band than he did on the land. It wasn't right to expect him to give up all his free time, but that was exactly what Daniel had to do if he was ever going to make enough to pay back the money he had borrowed from Frances.

Daniel had spent three hundred pounds on tools and machinery he needed for repairing cars and the tractors that stood in the yard. Another four hundred had gone on five cars he intended to restore when he had the chance. He had paid the bank five hundred pounds to settle his overdraft, and after a few bills were paid that left him less than two hundred pounds.

He tried not to think about Maura or the fact that he had a son he had never seen. If she came asking for more money, he would have to fob her off with something, but he couldn't afford to pay what she wanted. Alice was already curious about the money he had been spending. She had thrown one or two hints about Frances at him, and if she got curious enough to ask, she would tell him he ought to give the money back. There was no way he could do it, and that meant he had to make a success out of the car repairs. He needed Connor to do his share and more but it looked as if his brother had ideas of his own. Daniel didn't blame him, but if Connor was dashing off all the time, it was going to make things even harder for him.

Connor felt guilty as he left that evening. Daniel was still hard at work on one of the tractors he'd promised for the next day. If it wasn't for the gig, Connor would have finished the chores for him, but he'd promised his friends he would be on time. Terry had said that this gig was very important and he'd told them that there might be a bonus for them all if they were lucky.

Connor had started to save towards a present for Sarah. He had seen a pretty gold locket and chain in a local jeweller's shop and he wanted to buy it for her next week. He could put a deposit down and then pay weekly, but he didn't want to get into debt. If he earned twenty pounds again this evening, he would be able to buy the locket outright. After that he might start saving for a ring, because he was thinking of asking Sarah to get engaged at Christmas.

When he joined his friends outside the venue in Cambridge, he was surprised to see other bands unloading their gear.

‘I didn't know anyone else was playing this evening,' he said with a frown. ‘How much are they paying us, then, Terry?'

‘Nothing,' Terry said. ‘It's a competition. We are competing against other bands for the prize of . . . five hundred pounds and the chance of a record deal!'

‘Five hundred . . .' Connor stared at him. ‘That is a fortune! I'm not sure about the record deal but I wouldn't mind a share of the prize.'

‘It's a hundred quid each if we win,' Terry said. ‘The record deal could be worth thousands if we got lucky.'

‘Wouldn't that mean going away?' Connor asked. ‘We would have to turn professional, go into it full-time . . .'

‘That is my dream,' Terry told him and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘If we win, it will be down to you, Connor. I've never expected to win before, because Phil wasn't good enough – but you are.'

‘Don't get your hopes too high,' Connor warned. ‘I've just seen the Flying Dragons unloading; they are terrific and very popular. I doubt if we can win against them.'

‘Don't sell yourself short,' Terry told him. ‘Just do what you've been doing every week since we started and we'll stand a good chance. If it doesn't come off, we might get second prize and that's two hundred and fifty.'

‘I'm up for it,' Sam said. ‘But it's the record deal I'm interested in. If we get that, we shall all be rich!'

Connor slung his guitar over his shoulder and picked up a part of the drum kit to carry inside. He felt a bit annoyed with Terry, because if they didn't come first or at least second this evening, he wouldn't earn anything – and he could have gone riddling to earn an extra fifteen bob.

Backstage, it was crowded because there were six bands entered in the contest that evening. Glancing round, Connor took stock. He realized that he recognized most of the faces; they had all played at the club at least once and he knew their stuff pretty well. Four of the groups were mediocre, but the Flying Dragons were a semi-professional band and he knew they were good.

Connor didn't think they had a hope of winning, but he reckoned they ought to be a good second. He cheered up a bit as Terry gave him the thumbs-up. Fifty pounds was a lot better than twenty. He would put on the best performance he could and hope they managed to come out with a prize.

Connor stepped forward when their name was called out. He had been practising the new number all week and hoped he wouldn't forget any of the words. It was the song Elvis Presley was pushing up the charts in America and it was beginning to be popular over here. Connor had started to let his sideburns grow and, having seen a clip about Elvis on the newsreel at the pictures, he had seen that the singer moved in much the same way as he'd done instinctively from the start. Terry had told him he looked a bit like the American. Connor didn't think he did, but they both had dark hair and they could both take a song and make it sound sexy.

He stepped up to the microphone, gave his hips a little wiggle and smiled. A girl screamed and one of them called his name. Connor smiled at her.

‘“That's All Right Mama”,' he said and his words were drowned by a chorus of screaming girls, all of them now calling his name. ‘Hush, baby,' he murmured. ‘Here we go . . .'

The band started up and Connor belted the number out just the way he'd heard it over and over again that week on his record player. He'd played it so many times that Alice had threatened to break the record if she heard it once more. He hoped it had paid off.

As the music died away there was silence and then a storm of applause and clapping as the girls started chanting his name.

‘Connor . . . Connor . . . Connor . . . Connor . . .' They clapped and stamped their feet.

‘Thank you . . . Thank you!' Connor said. ‘We have one more song for you this evening and it is Big Joe Turner's “Shake, Rattle and Roll”.'

Connor belted the number out and the fans went wild. The girls were screaming his name and they were jiving in front of the stage and down the aisles. One girl threw something on stage. Connor bent down to pick up the artificial rose, dropped a kiss on the petals and tossed it back to her.

‘Shake me, baby,' he sang. ‘Come on and rattle my bones . . .'

Once again he finished to wild applause. He grinned and blew kisses to the girls.

‘Rock me, baby, hot rocking mama.'

The girls were still screaming as he turned and walked from the stage. As he turned towards the dressing room, one of the Flying Dragons came up to him.

‘Nice try,' he drawled. ‘It's a pity the rest of your lot aren't up to your standard – but if you want to join a good group, ask me after the show. I could always use another singer.'

‘Thanks, but I'm happy where I am,' Connor said. ‘Good luck.'

The man looked at him as if he suspected he was mocking him, but Connor genuinely expected the Flying Dragons to win. Their lead guitar was magic and the singer was pretty good. Besides, Connor had never considered giving up his job to go on tour around the country, which was probably what they would have to do if they won. He could just imagine what Daniel would have to say about that!

He went back to the dressing room and drank some squash he had brought with him. It was warm and too sweet, but it was better than nothing and he was thirsty. After wiping off the sweat, he went back to the side of the stage and listened as the Flying Dragons were announced. Terry and the others were listening too, their gear stacked out of the way.

A burst of applause greeted the new group and then they started playing and singing. Their first number was a catchy tune that had made it into the charts in America and the applause was generous when they finished.

The lead singer was speaking. ‘This is a number of our own – it's called “Flying with Dragons” . . .'

He was cheered and applauded; a couple of girls screamed, but when the music started Connor was disappointed. The beat was there but the words didn't make much sense and the music sounded odd to him. He waited for the girls to start cheering but they didn't, and when the number ended the applause was not enthusiastic.

‘I reckon they've blown it,' Terry said behind him. ‘That Elvis Presley number you did was terrific and the second was great. I think we've got it in the bag.'

‘I don't know.' Connor stared at him uneasily. If they won by some fluke, Terry would expect him to sign the contract and that was going to be awkward. It would mean leaving Daniel in the lurch. He hadn't expected anything like this when he joined the band, just a few gigs that put some extra money in his pocket.

‘Quiet . . . They're announcing the winners,' Terry said and grabbed his arm. ‘Listen.'

‘We are pleased to announce that the judges are unanimous in their verdict,' the announcer said. ‘In second place and the winner of two hundred and fifty pounds is . . . the Flying Dragons.'

‘I told you! It has to be us,' Terry hissed, his face tense with excitement.

Connor watched as the other band members went on stage and graciously accepted their prize, even though he saw some sour looks come his way. He felt Terry's grip tighten on his arm as the announcer spoke again.

‘Our winners this year are . . . the Bad Boys!'

‘Yes!' Terry punched the air and shoved Connor in front of him. ‘Come on, tiger, let's go get 'em.'

Connor found himself pushed on stage first. This time the girls were screaming like crazy. As he walked forward, the other members of the group hanging back as he took centre stage, a shower of objects came flying on to the stage: flowers, scarves and what looked suspiciously like a pair of silk French knickers.

Connor bent down to scoop them up and held them to his cheek, then threw them back into the crowd. One girl screamed loudly and grabbed for them. Another girl tried to grab them from her and a scuffle broke out.

Connor picked up other items and threw them into the little crowd and the incident was turned to laughter as the girls scrambled to get them.

‘Sweet rocking mamas,' he said and blew kisses to the girls. ‘I love ya all . . .'

‘The winners, ladies and gentlemen!'

Behind him, their gear had been brought back to the stage and the music started up once more. Conner grinned as he took his position, letting his eyes sweep over the crowd and settling on one pretty girl.

‘Sweet rocking baby,' he crooned. ‘Love me tonight . . .'

They played three of their most popular numbers and were at last allowed to leave the stage after each of them had said a few words of appreciation.

Connor headed straight for the dressing room afterwards. He was so thirsty and all he wanted was to splash some cool water on his face. He was just drying off when the others came in. They were grinning like Cheshire cats, pushing each other and laughing.

‘We did it!'

‘Yeah – we're gonna be rich!'

‘The contract has to be signed by next week,' Terry said. ‘I've been looking through it. I think I ought to get my father to run an eye over it. He is a lawyer's clerk and he will know if they are trying to pull a fast one – there's a bit about agents' fees that I'm not sure of.'

‘We don't need an agent,' Sam said. ‘How much are they paying us up front?'

‘Five thousand pounds.'

His words produced a shocked silence.

‘Give me the pen and I'll sign now,' Sam said. ‘I've never had that sort of money.'

‘Hang on until my father has a look,' Terry warned. ‘It sounds good but they want fifty per cent of all future fees for setting it up. I'm not sure that it is a good deal for us. If our records take off, we could be earning hundreds of thousands of pounds . . .'

‘Sounds good to me,' Ray said. ‘I'll sign if the rest of you do.'

Jack and Sam murmured agreement.

‘But they will be taking half our money,' Terry said. ‘I think it ought to be more like twenty-five per cent, but I'll know after Dad reads it through. We've got a week to sign – what do you think, Connor?'

‘I'm not sure I can sign,' Connor said. ‘I have a job . . .'

‘You can't throw away the chance of a lifetime,' Terry said, staring at him in dismay. ‘Even as the contract stands, we will earn far more money than you've ever dreamed of, Connor. If things go well for us, we could be rich beyond our wildest dreams.'

‘It sounds all right, but I'm not sure. I wouldn't sign until your father has read it, Terry – and even then I'll have to think about it.'

‘They don't want us without you,' Terry said. ‘Don't let us down, Connor. It's our big chance.'

‘Let your father read it and I'll tell you when we practise,' Connor said. ‘I shall have to talk to my brother. If I leave, he will need to take on a new man in the yard.'

‘If the records take off, you can pay him out of pocket change,' Terry said. ‘Don't be a fool, Connor. This could mean a whole new life for all of us. We shall go places – maybe America.' His expression was pleading. ‘Don't let us down . . . please.'

Connor hesitated. ‘If your father can negotiate a better contract for us, I'm in, but I don't see why anyone should take a fifty-per-cent cut of our earnings.'

‘Yeah! Now you're talking,' Terry said and grinned at him. ‘I knew you wouldn't let us down.'

Connor turned away. He had a sick feeling at the pit of his stomach. He would be a fool to turn down this chance of a lifetime, but it meant leaving his home and family – and Sarah.