Always Something There to Remind Me (15 page)

I eventually surfaced sometime on Sunday afternoon, forcing myself to shower and dress. I couldn’t eat; it was as if some huge lump had lodged itself in my chest and swallowing anything would have been impossible. I sat at the kitchen table, nursing a fierce headache. Picking up the pack of Ibuprofen, I turned it over to check the maximum dose. I’m ashamed to admit that for just a second I was tempted to take the lot, but all the tablets in the world weren’t going to stop the pain in my heart – so I settled for treating the one in my head and just took two pills.

Des had messaged me every hour throughout the night – always the same words:

‘Call me or answer your phone.’

As if I was going to do that. Why would I want to listen to whatever pathetic story he’d concocted? What could he have to say to me anyway? I went through the possibilities.

Sorry, Lyd – you were a convenient way of filling the time until Alice came back.

A man has to satisfy his needs and you didn’t seem to mind.

You mean a lot to me, babe, but she’s the love of my life.

Of course, we can still be friends.

Yeah, right! Maybe he could fit me in every now and again when he needed tea and … sympathy, or if Alice took off on her travels again. I could just sit around and wait for that to happen, couldn’t I? I laughed aloud as I realised my headache had eased up and my hurt was turning to anger. This had to be a good thing. It was certainly easier to live with. I knew how to handle anger – get busy.

I went into the living room and turned on the computer. There was an email from Angela. The interview with Josh would take place over lunch on February 12
^th
. The table was booked for 1 p.m. at a swish city centre restaurant. I had permission to record the conversation, on condition that the audio files were only used to inform my written report of the interview and not published in any format. I couldn’t take photographs, but Josh’s personal photographer would be present and he would provide suitable shots to accompany the published interview on the website. I should send a copy of the questions I wanted to ask and respect Josh’s right to refuse to answer any that he didn’t like.

I replied that I had no problem with the conditions and would send the questions the next day. I couldn’t quite get my head around the fact that in just four days I’d be sitting down to lunch with the idol of my youth. My anger and heartache temporarily forgotten, I set about composing the questions. It was harder than I’d imagined. I picked up the phone.

‘Trudi, are you busy? Can you come over and help me prepare this interview?’

‘Yes. Emilio’s just left. I’ll be there in half an hour. Are you OK, by the way? We were so worried about you last night. Have you spoken to Des? He left shortly after you disappeared. We thought he’d gone after you.’

Oh yeah, with Alice in tow?
But I didn’t ask out loud. I didn’t want to hear the answer.

‘I’m going to order a curry. Do you want one?’ The change of subject worked and I ordered the food while she made her way round.

Two heads are always better than one. Between us it took an hour to compose the interview and I decided to email Angela immediately.

‘Aren’t you going to run it by Des first? I thought the two of you were in this together.’ Trudi was testing the water again.

‘I can do this without him. I can do everything without him from now on.’

‘Lyd, there’s something you should know…’

‘If it concerns Des, I don’t want to hear it just now. I have to send this email and then you have to help me sort out what to wear on Thursday. Oh yes, and I need to practise for the interview. You can be Josh and I’ll be … me and we’ll have a trial run.’

I was on a roll. This was going to be great – a dream come true. I looked at the poster on the wall above my desk and sighed. ‘I’ve been waiting for this for thirty years – a date with a dream!’

Trudi rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently. ‘Come on then, dreamer. Let’s get on with it. Clothes first, then rehearsals.’

* * * * *

Des finally stopped texting on Tuesday evening. I guess my lack of response made the point. I missed him desperately, but I was determined to get over it. I’d changed a lot in the last few months. My marriage to Bob had almost destroyed me, but I was stronger now. No man would ever have the chance to do that to me again. Of course, I knew Des was nothing like Bob and I also knew that he was largely responsible for restoring my faith in myself. But Alice was back in his life and I wasn’t going to play second fiddle. The tears had dried and, although I still felt sad, my anger had dissipated. He owed me nothing. He had made no promises or commitments; uttered no lying words. We had been friends, or as Tess said ‘friends with benefits’, and all the rest had been in my imagination. I was glad that I’d never told him how I felt.

Thursday morning arrived dull and damp. I woke in fairly high spirits and checked my messages. I was so afraid something would go wrong, the way it always did for me. My inbox was empty, so no cancellation yet. I checked the
Luvsik Memories
website and saw that Des had posted an update on the blog about my impending meeting with Josh. He’d remembered! I felt a brief pang of regret as I browsed the site and realised how much work he’d put into making this happen for me.

The last sentence of his blog post read like a personal message:

‘
Have a great time Lyd, and don’t forget to come back and tell us all about it!’

The sudden lump in my throat surprised me and I logged off quickly and went to run a bath. I was starting to feel jittery.

My newly discovered confidence deserted me as I stood outside the restaurant. I knew I was a failure and I was about to confirm it. I stood on the threshold of achieving my dream and I wanted to chicken out, without even giving it a shot.

I could see him, sitting at the table, surrounded by fawning lackeys, ready to dance attendance on the former rock star. He was waiting for me, believing me to be a reporter from a new webzine coming to interview him. But I couldn’t keep up the pretence. What was I, after all, but another middle-aged woman harbouring memories of my teenage crush and inventing an excuse to meet him in the flesh? What on earth was I thinking when I set out on this ludicrous path?

He was still gorgeous, of course, despite the wrinkles and grey hair that added character to his once godlike features. That was the problem really. Some of us age well and some of us less so. Time is often cruel to women and seeing Josh Greenwood, who had adorned my bedroom walls so many years ago and still looked good enough to eat, only served to remind me that I was past my prime. Being young at heart doesn’t cut much ice when the competition is also young in body! It had all been a foolish dream.

Had I really expected that meeting him for lunch and an ‘interview’ was going to lead to living the dream? I was just a foolish old woman who should know better – so I turned on my heel and started to walk away through the drizzle.

My mobile phone vibrated in my coat pocket – a text from Des.

‘Good luck, Lyd. Call me afterwards, please? D xx’

I didn’t want to reply, but Des had been so good to me. He’d encouraged me every step of the way, just because he thought that was what I wanted. Perhaps he deserved an answer.

Or perhaps I should just go ahead and meet Josh.
I turned back and entered the restaurant.

Chapter 27: Date with a Dream

Angela came to greet me and ushered me to Josh’s table where she performed the introductions. Josh stood up and shook my hand.

‘Do take a seat,’ he said as he pulled a chair back for me. Angela handed my coat to the waiter and smiled at me.

‘I’ll leave you to get on with it then. I have some calls to make and so forth. Josh, I’ll call you later, OK?’ Then she was gone and I was alone with him. I still hadn’t uttered a single word.

‘You’re the quietest journalist I’ve ever met,’ Josh remarked as the waiter placed the menus in front of us and withdrew.

‘Sorry, I’m … er … pleased to meet you.’
How lame is that? I could have done better when I was fifteen.
I pulled my interview script out of my bag and placed it on the table.

‘If it would be easier, I could just write the answers down for you. Then you wouldn’t have to struggle to talk to me.’ Josh laughed and I felt stupid. I raised my head to look at him properly for the first time, angry that he was making fun of me, but those dark eyes that had fired a young girl’s dreams were sparkling with gentle amusement and his smile was kind. ‘Now I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to make it worse for you. Would you like a drink while we peruse the menu?’

He looked towards a waiter who scurried over to take our order – Jack Daniels for Josh and vodka and tonic for me. ‘Now, let’s start again and I promise not to tease you any more.’

I managed a smile at last. ‘Thank you.’

The drinks arrived and Josh raised his glass. ‘Here’s to you, Luvsik Lydia.’

I couldn’t help giggling at my new nickname. I clinked my glass against his. ‘Cheers.’

‘I must say, you’re not exactly what I was expecting. When Angela said you were a fan in the band’s heyday I thought you’d be older.’

Now it was my turn to laugh. ‘Really?’

‘Well, yes. Most of the kids were in their teens back then, fifteen or sixteen, but you must have been a babe in arms.’

‘Not quite,’ I said. ‘But thanks for the thought and thanks for being patient with me. This is my first interview.’

‘I’d never have guessed.’ He winked. ‘I’m honoured to be chosen to help you lose your journalistic virginity.’ This time we both laughed. I was much more at ease.

‘So, should I just ask the questions now?’

‘Well, it’s fine by me if you want to get right down to it. Or we could indulge in a little foreplay first and you can ask your questions after we’ve eaten.’ His sense of humour reminded me of … someone else, but I put the thought out of my mind and ordered spaghetti bolognese.

What the heck was I thinking? Posh restaurant, hot date, pale pink sweater and I decided to choose the messiest item on the menu! I was doing so well, carefully winding the slippery tendrils around my fork and getting them safely to my mouth without mishap. Josh was excellent company, regaling me with anecdotes about how life on tour had changed over the years.

With his permission, I was recording the conversation on a clever little device I’d picked up from Argos which would upload the MP3 file to my computer so I could listen to it as I wrote up the article later. It was just as well really, because he was so fascinating I couldn’t possibly have taken notes.

‘So, what’s the biggest difference between the Luvsik Kitten years and the Alley Kat era?’ I asked, deftly preparing my next forkful of pasta.

‘The underwear,’ he said, swallowing a bite of pizza. ‘Back in the day, the fans would throw their sexy little panties onto the stage …’ He sighed.

‘They don’t do that any more?’

‘Oh, they still throw their knickers at us, but nowadays they all have matching thermal vests.’

As the laughter overtook me, my fork let go of its saucy load and a huge dollop of bolognese sauce landed on my chest. Mortified, I removed the lumpy bits with a spoon and stared in horror at the stain. My face must have been as red as the mess I’d made. I looked helplessly at Josh who was calling the waiter over.

Oh Lord, he’s going to leave. I’ve embarrassed him.
But I’d misjudged him.

‘Can we have a bottle of sparkling mineral water, and a cloth or something, please?’

‘Certainly, sir.’ He scurried off.

‘Mineral water?’ I asked.

‘It’s ace for dealing with tomato-based sauce stains.’ He reached across and patted my shoulder. ‘Why do you think I chose pizza? I’ve worn plenty of bolognese badges in my time.’

‘I’m such a klutz…’

‘Not at all. Now smile for me. You have such lovely eyes.’

Wow! I’m dreaming. I’m living the dream.

The waiter returned and Josh handed me the water and the cloth.

‘You have to pour a splash of the water on and dab it gently; don’t rub too hard or you’ll damage the fibres.’

‘You’re a real expert, then?’ I was smiling again.

‘I could offer to do it for you, but …’ His eyes were twinkling with mischief.

‘Thank you, but I think I can manage.’

‘Why don’t you go to the ladies? You’ll have a mirror in there. Maybe even a hand dryer.’

I got up to leave the table and he took my hand. ‘Take your time. I’ll be here when you get back, Luvsik Lydia.’

I floated to the loo and spent the next ten minutes removing the stain and drying off. The mineral water worked like a charm and I returned to the table with just a slight damp patch above my right boob. The dishes had been cleared away and there was a fresh drink waiting for me. Josh was on his phone and he motioned to me to sit down.

‘If you could be ready in five minutes, please. I’ll see you then.’ He ended the call.

Oh dear,
time’s up.
I thought. I picked up my recorder and turned it off.

‘Thank you so much for your time, Josh. It’s been a real pleasure …’ I began.

‘You’re not going already, are you? We haven’t had dessert.’

‘But, I thought …’

‘You thought wrong, my dear. We’re going for a little ride to finish this interview and then we’ll have dessert somewhere very exclusive.’

The waiter brought our coats, but instead of heading for the main exit, Josh led me through the kitchen and out the back door. We climbed a metal staircase at the side of the restaurant until we reached a door leading to the flat roof of the three-storey building. Josh opened the door and I followed him through.

‘Our carriage awaits, milady.’ He stepped aside and waved his arm towards the shiny silver helicopter that stood in readiness. ‘Come, fly with me.’

‘I can’t … I can’t!’ I turned back towards the door, but he caught me and turned me around.

‘Why not? You’ll love it and we’re not going far.’

‘I don’t fly, Josh. I’ve never flown. I’m scared.’ I was shaking all over and he pulled me towards him and held me close.