Kiss Heaven Goodbye Part 12

Gav smiled. 'Which isn't going to happen since Jez banged one of the girls.'

Jez shrugged modestly. 'A man's got to do what a man's got to do.'

He beckoned to Alex and disappeared through the dark doorway. 'Come on, I'll show you the nerve centre.'

Alex followed him down a flight of narrow steps into a damp cellar lit by a single bulb. 'Wow!' he said. There was barely room to stand up, but every available inch of floor s.p.a.ce had been crammed with musical gear. They'd obviously gone to quite a bit of trouble with makes.h.i.+ft soundproofing using old mattresses. Unfortunately, they'd become damp and the room smelt of mildew, mixed with the heavier aromas of cigarettes and sweat.

Jez inhaled dramatically. 'Can't you smell it? The scent of rock.' He picked up a guitar and shoved it into Alex's chest. 'Greg's guitar. He won't mind,' he said.

'Come on then, genius,' said Pete eagerly. 'Let's hear what you've got.'

Alex looked at the ceiling dubiously.'s.h.i.+t, Jez,' he said.'It's twelve thirty. What about those girls upstairs?'

'Don't think they're in. Didn't see a light on, anyway.'

'OK,' said Alex, plugging the guitar in; he'd had too many snakebites to care much anyway. 'Why don't you play me one of your songs and I'll jump in when I can?'

'Let's do "Blood Money",' said Jez.

They launched into a raw rock 'n' roll jam, sort of like 'Diamond Dogs' meets 'Sweet Child O' Mine'. It had an interesting groove, but it wasn't very sophisticated; Alex had no trouble keeping up with the changes, and as his confidence grew, he laid a melody over the rhythm that completely transformed the song. From the grins on the band's faces when they finally ground to a halt, they had been pleased with his performance. Alex wished he could say the same. Gavin was a solid ba.s.s player and Pete kept the beat, but from a creative point of view the rhythm section was a desert and Alex could see he would struggle to get much more out of them. Jez was more interesting; his songs were derivative and his voice a bit thin, but he had a huge amount of charisma and Alex thought he'd be an arresting frontman. He was filled with a bubbling excitement. Together, this band had swagger and energy and above all potential. They could be great.

'So what do you think ...'

The rest of his words were drowned by a loud banging coming from upstairs.

'Oh s.h.i.+t,' muttered Jez, running up the stairs. They all put down their instruments and trooped sheepishly upstairs. Jez was standing at the door talking to a girl, or rather listening as she shouted. She was pretty, with dark red hair that hung messily over her shoulders in a Snoopy nightdress that skimmed the top of her thighs. She stopped her tirade as the other boys peeked around the door and firmly crossed her arms across her chest.

'All right, Emma?' said Gavin with a cheeky smile.

The girl frowned heavily. 'No I am not. It's one o'clock in the b.l.o.o.d.y morning.'

'Is that the time?' said Jez with a wide grin. Alex could see that his charm was cutting no ice with Emma. Either she wasn't the one he had had s.e.x with, or else she was and he had somehow p.i.s.sed her off afterwards. Alex thought the latter was most likely.

'First thing in the morning I am calling the landlord,' said Emma to Jez. 'We've warned you a million times, but if you insist on behaving like an ignorant, selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I won't lose any sleep if you're chucked out on to the street.'

Alex couldn't help chuckling and Emma rounded on him angrily.

'I'm glad you find it funny. Remind me to ask you how funny it is when you're rehearsing out of a cardbox box in Rusholme.'

'Look, I'm sorry. We all are.' Alex smiled. 'But the muse came and we had to answer the call.'

Emma didn't smile, but even when she frowned, Alex thought she was pretty. Even in that ridiculous nightie.

'Come in for a beer,' he said. 'Come on, Snoopy, you know you want to.'

She pursed her lips but a half-smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. 'Even if you weren't a bunch of s.h.i.+ts, I couldn't,' she sighed. 'I've got an essay due in on Monday and I have to do some work in the morning.'

Emboldened by the snakebite, Alex sank to his knees and clasped his hands together. 'Please stay, we'll write a song about you.'

Emma looked down at him. Her face was still serious, but Alex could see she was fighting hard not to laugh.

'Who are you anyway?' she said.

'Alex, Alex Doyle,' he said, getting to his feet.

'Well listen to me, Alex Doyle,' said Emma. 'As soon as I close this door I don't want to hear so much as a single note. Do we understand each other?'

'Absolutely.'

'All right then,' she said and turned away, but Alex saw the grin spreading on her face.

'You sweet-talking son of a b.i.t.c.h.' Jez whistled admiringly.

'It was the snakebite talking,' said Alex.

Jez handed him another can. 'Well let it talk, brother,' he said, as they all flopped down on the sagging sofas.

'Listen, Alex, were you being serious about not wanting to be in a band? From what we saw downstairs, I think that would be a waste.' Pete nodded seriously. 'If you came on board with us, we'd have a right laugh.' Jez popped the ring-pull on his can. 'Together we'll conquer the world!' Pete and Gavin hooted in agreement.

Alex hesitated for a moment, then held up his can. 'Well then, count me in.'

The other three glanced at each other, then leapt at Alex, squas.h.i.+ng him into the creaking sofa, yelling and spraying him with beer, until they heard a loud thumping coming from the floor above. Grinning, Alex pushed them off and wiped the beer from his face.

He'd heard that Manchester was the place to be.

He had a feeling that from tonight, life was finally going to get better.

14

May 1991

Grace sprinted for the line. Lunging forward, dipping her shoulders, she shot across, her feet and arms pumping in perfect harmony. Looking up, she saw the time on the scoreboard a new world record! Her feet thudded to a stop and she leant forward, resting her hands on her knees. As she came to the end of a run, she liked to imagine herself in the final lap of a big race to push herself just that bit harder. Silly, but effective.

Grace's arms were slimmer, her tanned legs more defined and shapely from a month of morning runs along the sand of Four Mile Beach, Port Douglas' longest stretch of sand. Any last hint of puppy fat had been rubbed away by a bout of food poisoning in Thailand, swiftly followed by the healthy living she had taken up in Australia. Although it was the Queensland winter, and not yet eight in the morning, it was already twenty degrees, and drops of sweat were running down her face. Enough for today, Enough for today, she thought, flopping down on to the soft sand where the headland rose, curving away to spray-dashed rocks. she thought, flopping down on to the soft sand where the headland rose, curving away to spray-dashed rocks.

She looked out towards the Coral Sea, twinkling silver in the morning light. Over the horizon it blended with the Pacific Ocean, and beyond that was South America, over six thousand miles away. She allowed herself a smile as she reflected that she was as far away from London as it was possible to be without going to the moon. That, of course, was part of the appeal of Australia. Not the only one, of course: she loved the weather, the 'no worries' att.i.tude; she even loved the way that while she was greeting a new day with a jog along the beach, in England it was still yesterday. She was separated by time and s.p.a.ce and that was just fine with Grace. She had been out of London nine months and had no plans to return, despite telling her parents that she just wanted a gap year after her degree and before she joined Ash Corp. And, yes, she was sad about not starting her MA at Oxford, but it was worth it.

Brus.h.i.+ng the sand off her legs, she returned to the whitewashed clapboard cottage she called home.

'G.o.d, you weren't out for a run again, were you?' asked Caro, her flatmate, as Grace came down after her shower.

Caro's short platinum hair was sticking up at all angles and she was sitting hunched over a cup of coffee. The previous night they'd both been out to the Cross Arms hotel, the white colonial edifice on the esplanade, but Grace had left her friend surrounded by men and half-empty bottles; no surprise she was feeling rough.

'You should have come with me,' smiled Grace. 'That would have blown the cobwebs away.'

'Some guy with a nose ring did that for me.' Caro smirked. 'Dan? Stan? Dunno, but he just left.'

'So that was the noise in the middle of the night. I thought it was a pack of dingoes.'

Grace had met Caro, a Kiwi from a small town in the South Island, in her first week in Thailand, when they were both staying in a small backpackers' flop-house in Krabi. She was as streetwise as an alley-cat with a knack for seeking out all the coolest places to be. Instantly admiring Caro's carefree att.i.tude, Grace joined her on the boat to Koh Phi Phi, going on to Bali, Australia's Suns.h.i.+ne Coast, finally was.h.i.+ng up on the tropical sh.o.r.e of northern Queensland.

Reluctantly, Caro made herself presentable and they both left the house to head into the town. Ten years ago, Port Douglas had been a sleepy fis.h.i.+ng village full of locals and the occasional backpacker, but the construction of a large glossy marina a few years before had brought yachts, and with them came upmarket hotel groups, and smart restaurants. The two girls had spent the last four months working on the Highlander Highlander, a sixty-foot catamaran that transported tourists to the Low Isles, a group of small sandbanks thirty miles to the east where they could snorkel and dive.

'I've got something to tell you,' Caro said as they walked down Macrossan Street, the main thoroughfare sprinkled with cafes and surf-style clothes shops.

'What?'

'I'm thinking of moving on,' she said.

'You're joking.'

'It's getting too touristy around here,' she said, crinkling up her nose. 'And I'm not sure how many more prawn buffets I can serve up on the Highlander Highlander. I'm supposed to be a vegetarian, fer Chrissakes.'

'Where are you thinking of going?'

'Ah, dunno. India maybe? Fancy coming with me?'

Grace kept quiet. She had built such a happy life for herself here, she wasn't sure if she was ready to leave it.

As they neared the marina, they saw the queue of tourists by the catamaran.

'Check out the guy in the shorts.' Caro whistled as they walked up the gangplank.

'Ssh, don't let the guests hear you,' whispered Grace.

'f.u.c.k the guests,' she said with a casual wave of the hands. 'Actually, yes please,' she added, meeting the dark eyes of the tall, swarthy man.

Grace blushed slightly and began taking the tickets off the pa.s.sengers. Once everyone was safely boarded, the Highlander Highlander set sail for the Low Isles and the girls set about preparing meals, serving drinks and making sure the children didn't jump overboard. Grace could see why Caro was getting sick of it; the job was monotonous and in places downright unpleasant, but there were certainly worse ways to earn a living than cruising around the Great Barrier Reef, even if you did have to sc.r.a.pe plates on the way back. set sail for the Low Isles and the girls set about preparing meals, serving drinks and making sure the children didn't jump overboard. Grace could see why Caro was getting sick of it; the job was monotonous and in places downright unpleasant, but there were certainly worse ways to earn a living than cruising around the Great Barrier Reef, even if you did have to sc.r.a.pe plates on the way back.

They were just approaching the Low Isles when Neil, the stern Canadian captain, approached.

'You. Come with me,' he said, pointing at Grace.

Raising her eyebrows at Caro, Grace followed Neil forward to the cramped cabin which served as an office and storeroom.

'Now then, Grace, I've been watching you over the past few weeks,' he began, 'and I've decided to give you a promotion.'

'Really?' said Grace with surprise.

'No, not really,' said Neil, turning to a locker and flipping it open. 'But I am changing your job description.'

She looked at him wide-eyed; maybe she could move up on deck. She had spent her childhood sailing, and when the sails were at full stretch and the male crew were hauling on the ropes, she longed to join in. Until now she'd stayed below deck, nervous that she might get spotted as Robert Ashford's daughter, which she had mentioned to no one, not even Caro. Luckily in this part of the world, no one seemed to care who you were or where you came from.

Neil pulled out a large black SLR camera and handed it to her. 'You are now the Highlander Highlander's official photographer.'

Grace looked at him with her mouth open. 'I've only used instamatics before.'

'Well now's the time to start learning. It's either you or Caro, and I wouldn't trust her to point it the right way, let alone get a shot in focus. All I'm asking is when we get to the island, take a couple of snaps of the pa.s.sengers having fun. We get them developed at the marina. We put them in a fancy frame with "I've Been To The Great Barrier Reef" on it and flog 'em back to them for ten dollars a pop.'

Over the tannoy, Neil announced that a small tender boat would be ferrying the guests across and that snorkel gear and anti-jellyfish 'stinger suits' would be handed out when they got to the beach.

Grace rode with them, fiddling with the camera, then headed towards the American family who were struggling to set up camp with a huge amount of beach gear chairs, ice box, an inflatable dolphin.

'h.e.l.lo there,' she said, holding up the camera. 'Would you like me to take a picture of you all?'

The father looked at her with hostility. 'Another hidden cost? I've already sh.e.l.led out for four sodas on your boat.'

'Oh Kevin,' said the mother. 'It will be great.'

She gathered the children around her and the father stood at the back, chin jutting out, clasping a frisbee to his chest as if it were a badge of high office.

Grace squinted through the viewfinder. 'OK, everyone smile ...' she said, pressing the shutter b.u.t.ton.

And nothing happened.

'Sorry,' she said. 'Try again ...'

Again, nothing. Fl.u.s.tered, Grace looked at the camera, trying to work out what was wrong.

'Bear with me,' she said distractedly.

'Cowboys,' muttered the father as the children began to whine and fidget.

'Here, maybe I can help,' said a voice.

Grace turned to see the handsome pa.s.senger she had noticed earlier.

He stepped away from the family, examined the camera then flipped open the back. 'Film's jammed.'

'b.u.g.g.e.r. I didn't think I loaded it properly. And now I've left the bag of extra film on the Highlander Highlander.'

The man dipped his hand in his pocket and pulled out a yellow roll of Kodak. 'Your lucky day.' He smiled.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he was good-looking, thought Grace, watching him swiftly reload the camera. His skin, the colour of pale coffee, stretched over fine bone structure. His dark, almost black eyes made him look serious, intelligent, even when he smiled.

'Come on,' shouted the father.

'A slight technical hitch,' said Grace, gratefully taking the camera. 'All fixed now. OK, everyone say "Jellyfish"!'

In the end, Neil was right. The holidaymakers all wanted a memento of their trip to the island, so they were only too willing to pose, and now Grace knew which b.u.t.ton to press, she felt like David Bailey. She was, however, disappointed that she was busy with her duties throughout the trip back and was unable to thank the man in the Bermudas.