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Chapter 6

      Paula woke up and couldn’t work out where she was. She looked around her; lemon walls, a pile of boxes and bin bags full of clothing, a small window, where a net hung, flowers dancing along its border and the scent of a lavender air freshener strong in her nose.

      The Parkers’ box room. It filtered through then. And in the smallest of single beds. If she stretched out – she did now, her bent legs protesting – she could touch the far wall with her toes. No wonder Joey’s uncle preferred to kip on the sofa downstairs.

      It was cosy, though, and she lay still with her eyes closed for a minute, realising it must still be quite early. She wondered if Joey was up yet, or still stretched out, lean and sleepy, on the other side of the wall. She felt good in a way that she hadn’t in a long time. Though she’d resisted the urge to take things where she might have last night – admittedly with some difficulty – the feelings he’d stirred in her were unfamiliar and rather thrilling. Was this how falling in love felt? She was hesitant to even think it. They’d only been together five bloody minutes. And she was as far from a swooning heroine as it was possible to be, after all. But if the cap fitted … and it wasn’t as if they were complete strangers, was it? They shared a common past, wanted a common future. Christ, Paula, listen to yourself, she thought. She let her mind drift then, where it fancied, and dozed a little more.

      She was woken again, both by her bladder, which was by now protesting, and by the unmistakable rumble of voices from below. Not raised voices, quite, but with a definite edge. Was that Joey’s she could make out? She thought so.

      Further evidence presented itself as she padded out onto the little landing, clutching her handbag (containing spare undies – a moment of sensible foresight) and her bundle of clothes – just her stage dress and a cardi. Feeling like a fallen woman, even if she wasn’t, in one of Joey’s T-shirts, she hoped she wouldn’t bump into any of the family till she was dressed.

      Unlike Paula’s own home – full of messy teenagers – the house was small and uncluttered, and she could see Joey’s empty bed through his open bedroom door. The bathroom was just opposite, so she dived into it gratefully, and it was only once in there that the voices properly revealed themselves, coming up directly from the kitchen below. And then she heard her name spoken, by Joey’s mam, and, her interest piqued now, she strained to listen. And moving closer to the propped-open bathroom quarter light – the back door was clearly open – she found she could hear pretty clearly.

      ‘I’m not saying that,’ Joey’s mam was now saying. What? What was ‘that’? ‘I’m just telling you to be sensible. That’s all. It’s all very well you being pie-eyed over her, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. It’s just that she’s –’

      ‘For fuck’s sake, Mam!’ Joey’s voice. ‘Will you just shut up going on like that? I’m not a kid, for God’s sake!’

      ‘No, you’re not.’ His mam’s voice again. ‘But you don’t know what you’re getting into with this group of hers. And you know nothing about this … this man. About any of them, come to that. And when your head’s turned by –’

      ‘My head’s not fucking turned. Just how stupid d’you think I am, Mam?’

      Then a deep shushing noise. Soothing. Maybe Joey’s dad was there too?’

      ‘Alright,’ Joey’s mam again. ‘Love, I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying you need to think hard about what you might be getting into with this group.’

      ‘Band,’ Joey corrected. ‘And it’s just a gig, Mam. Christ, we’re not being sold into bloody slavery! Just the chance of some gigs at a new place – a bigger place. A better place. Honestly, anyone would think you didn’t want me to be successful. Is that it?’ A long pause. ‘Jesus, Mam! Stop it.’ Then another. Paula imagined Joey putting his hands on his mam’s shoulders. She didn’t know why, but she could just see it. ‘Look, stop worrying, okay?’ he said again. ‘We’re just going to go and meet up with him, and –’

      ‘Where?’ She was snapping now.

      ‘At his club. Where else? And it’s not like we’ve even agreed to anything yet. Christ.’

      ‘Son.’ Definitely his dad’s voice. ‘Calm down, okay? Your mam’s just concerned, that’s all. As she has every right to be. These people … this whole … business …’

      ‘It’s just a band, Dad. Not a vice den.’

      ‘Yes, but …’ Joey’s father seemed to flounder to find the words. ‘You’ve got a solid, reliable job, son. We just don’t want you running away with ideas that might …’

      ‘For fuck’s sake!’ Paula heard a door opening. And she could now hear Joey – she assumed at least – thumping up the stairs.

      Paula stayed in the bathroom a good while longer. Washed her hands and face. Did what she could with what was left of her make-up rather than scraping it all off and starting again. Washed as well as she could before slipping back into her clothes. Brushed her hair – bloody hell, her roots needed doing – and only then, dressed and decent, did she open the door.

      Joey was dressed too, pacing in his room, obviously waiting for her.

      She felt a frisson of joy seeing him. And the feeling was obviously mutual. No, that hadn’t happened yet, but something had last night.

      ‘You alright?’ he said. He was standing in front of a Trainspotting poster that hadn’t been there last night, rolling a piece of Blu Tack between his fingers. He didn’t look as agitated as she’d expected. But he was clearly keen to go. She glanced at his bedside clock. Nearly ten. So she’d slept on for a good while, then.

      ‘Never better,’ she said, sidling up to him and kissing him, on tiptoe.

      She placed the T-shirt on his bed, as his arms slipped around her. ‘Let’s get off, shall we? Maybe go and get some breakfast at the Tuck Inn before rehearsals? What d’you reckon?’

      ‘What I reckon is that I could eat a horse, so that sounds divine.’

      He studied her for a moment, not speaking, his gaze travelling over her face.

      ‘What?’ she said finally.

      ‘It’ll keep,’ he said. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

      ‘So was she alright, you know, your mum?’ Paula said as they drove round the corner. The farewells had certainly been fond enough. Joey’s mam had been keen to make them bacon sandwiches and reminded Paula to tell hers she hoped for a proper catch-up, very soon. But though Joey seemed himself, she was still anxious about what she’d overheard.

      ‘Yeah, she’s cool,’ he said. ‘She loves you. How couldn’t she? You’re her oldest best mate’s daughter. She’s just, you know, Mam.’

      Paula didn’t know. ‘I meant about me staying over.’

      ‘Course she’s cool,’ he said. ‘It’s not like we’re children, is it? And you slept in the box room anyway –’ he turned to grin at her. ‘More’s the pity.’

      And since he didn’t seem perturbed, she decided she should leave it. She had to keep remembering he was their only child, and that Christine was probably over-protective. What with Paula being an ‘older woman’ and all that. She knew what parents could be like anyway. Didn’t realise their kids grew up, had ambitions, could think for themselves. Whether they liked it or otherwise.

      They headed to hers first, so she could change into jeans and a T-shirt, and with the minimum of fuss – it seemed everyone wanted to make them bacon sarnies this morning – were soon back in her car and on their way to the rehearsal room, their tummies full of a full English apiece

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