There was no chance to finish he picked up so quickly. “Hi, I’m here. I’m just screening my calls.”
“Why?”
“There’s some people I don’t want to talk to.”
“So why give them your number?”
“I’d like to see you sometime.” His anxiousness to change the subject, made me suspicious. Was he hiding from someone? Drug dealers maybe? “Can we meet somewhere?”
“Where? I don’t know my way around yet. I’ve not been here three months.”
“I can come get you. I have a motor.”
“I don’t know. I . . . ”
“I’m perfectly safe. Don’t worry.”
“We could meet at the entrance to the main gallery. Do you know where that is?”
“I’ve lived in London all my life. I know where everything is.”
We made the date. I hung up and the reality of what happened suddenly overwhelmed me. “We’re meeting in half an hour!” I squealed.
Aimee didn’t look thrilled. “Don’t go anywhere alone with him. And if you aren’t back by dinner I’m calling the gendarmes.”
“I can take care of myself. I’m going to shower and do my hair.” I decided to wear my hair down, but pulled back. Everyone loved my long, thick auburn curls. I was never satisfied with them.
I didn’t want to appear easy so donned a calf-length, red paisley skirt with white blouse, quickly tied my hair back, applied some makeup and headed out. I arrived first so waited inside.
Keith came before long. “Sorry I’m late. Do you want to go anywhere in particular?”
“I’ve wanted to see where punk was born — the squats where the Clash lived and where they rehearsed. Or maybe the old Apple Records headquarters where the Beatles played on the roof.”
“I’ll take you to Denmark Street. We’d best hurry. I’m illegally parked.”
I followed him to a small red sports car. “The band must be doing well,” I commented, “if you can afford a car like this.”
Keith shrugged. “Hardly. This was a gift from my dad for enrolling in the senior academy. He pays the insurance as long as I stay in school.”
“Nice dad,” I commended.
Keith shrugged again. “I have a passion for antique British sports cars.” He opened the passenger door and I slid in. “It was a choice between this and a Triumph TR3.”
I was nervous getting into a car with someone I hardly knew. Keith got into the driver’s side and started the engine. “What kind of car is this?” I hoped small talk would hide my nervousness.
“An Austin Healey Mark III. It’s one of my prized possessions.”
You attend school, n’est pas?”
“I just started the senior division at the Royal Academy of Music. I was at the junior school since I was thirteen. I’d rather just play in my band, but my dad won’t support me if I quit. Even if I got a job it wouldn’t be enough to support my flat and car.”
“Are you studying guitar?”
“Piano. I’ve only played guitar a little over two years. I’ve had formal piano lessons since I was three.”
I was surprised he’d only played guitar such a short time. He was that good.
“Well, I love being at the art academy. I can’t be the next Rodin or Monet in Brest.”
“You seem to be blending in well. You speak perfect English and everything.”
“I learned in school. I’m an only child and my parents saw I had a good education. They sacrificed a lot to help me get accepted to the Royal Academy a year early, but I worked hard too taking extra courses.”
“I’m a solo act too and was given everything materially – the best piano tutors to ensure I got accepted to the finest music academy in the country.”
Keith found a place to park, shoved some coins in the meter, and led me through the famous Denmark Street. The street was narrow and it seemed every other store sold guitars.
“There it is,” he exclaimed, stopping and pointing. “Number six where The Sex Pistols recorded their first demos.”
I stood, awe struck. For years I’d wanted to see this, but Aimee and I didn’t get the chance before school started. It looked pristine, but next door was a seedy tattoo parlor emanating an odor of shoe polish.
“Rumor has it Bowie lived in a van on this street, but I don’t know exactly where. And this…” Keith led me further up the street. “This is the guitar shop where Steve Jones nicked the guitars you hear on Never Mind the Bullocks. I had a mate who worked here.”
He suddenly seemed melancholy. I stared at the guitars displayed in the window along with various bills advertising up-coming shows. “Aimee will be so envious I finally came here.”
“Come on. I’ll take you to Malcolm McLaren’s shop where the Sex Pistols started. It’s something different now so no weird rubber clothes and S&M shit in the window.” He grabbed my hand and like a child showing off new toys, led me to our next destination.
We got back into his car and zoomed off. There being no place to park, Keith could only point it out. I can park my motor back at my flat and we can go to Hyde Park a few blocks away. Fancy a bit of a walk? It doesn’t look like it’ll piss down rain any time soon.”
“That would be lovely,” I enthused.
We walked a long time and despite the chill, bought a picnic of bread, cheese and wine and never ran out of things to talk about. The trees were nearly bare with scattered brown leaves still clinging.
It was nearly dusk when Keith tossed the remains of a cigarette to the grass. “I have a show in a couple hours. I’m sure Ryan’s trying to track me down.”
“What is he, your keeper?”
“We’ve been mates for ten years. He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.”
We strolled back to his car and I shivered against the chilly November evening.
“I’ll drop you off unless you want to tag along while I get ready for the show.”
I opted for home. I wasn’t ready to be alone in his flat with him. It was bold enough I got in his car. Anyway, I still needed to change into my concert clothes and I was sure Aimee wondered where I was.
“I’ll put your name on the list, plus one, so you can bring your friend. Can I ring you tomorrow? I’ll show you where The Clash and The Sex Pistols played.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “I should spend time at the academy, but three or four o’clock will work.”
We made the date and Keith dropped me off.
“Where were you?” Aimee was furious when I burst into our room. “I was worried!”
“I’m sorry. We lost track of time. Aimee, he’s so wonderful!”
Aimee seemed surprised. “Really? Will you see him again?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. I think I’m falling for him. I know it sounds crazy.”
“You can’t feel that way after one date. Be careful. He might be fickle.”
“He’s the one who wanted to see me again. It was so romantic. Despite the cold, we shared a picnic in Hyde Park.”
“A picnic? That is romantic. Still, don’t go anywhere alone with him until you’re sure he’s the decent sort.”
The following weeks when I wasn’t with Keith, I craved being with him. Every day upon leaving the academy, Keith was waiting, his ebony hair tousled. His blue eyes lit up every time he saw me and we always greeted each other with a big kiss, which made me all tingly inside.
I had designed a band logo of a cartoon ant standing upright and drinking a pint. I painted it onto a large banner to be displayed behind the drum set at shows. The Piss Ants performed almost every night. I wondered how Keith did it and still dragged himself to the music academy the next morning.
December arrived. My parents sent money for me to spend Christmas back home. I hadn’t seen them since early September and wanted to again, but I wanted to be with Keith more. I was in love. My parents knew nothing and Aimee was sworn to secrecy.
On first December Keith turned eighteen. It was a Monday night, and I had to be up early to finish some final projects, but there was no way I would miss Keith’s entrance into adulthood. The party was at the club where the Piss Ants usually played. There was beer and champagne that tasted like stars melting on my tongue. Oddly there was no cake.
“Yeah, I don’t like sweets,” Keith explained.
I looked at him aghast. “You don’t eat chocolate?”
Keith laughed at me. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t like chocolate. Besides, who needs sweets when I have you.” He grabbed me and we engaged in a long kiss.
The party was still in full swing past midnight when I told Keith I needed to get home or I would surely turn into a zombie.
“Well, I can’t be seen going out with a zombie,” Keith said. “It would be a shame to destroy that beauty. I’ll give you a lift.”
I knew how much he’d been drinking, though he didn’t seem drunk. I decided it was safer going with him than trying to catch a late night bus.
We walked out to the frigid air to his car and he zipped through the narrow streets with the prowess of a racecar driver, coming to a screeching stop in front of the off-white stucco façade of my humble abode. We parted with another long kiss before I opened the door and stepped out. Keith waited while I opened the squeaky iron gate. Its spikes almost looked ghostly in the enveloping winter fog. I stuck my key in the door, gave Keith a wave and watched him zoom into the dark. I trudged up the stairs. Aimee was already asleep so I would wait until morning to tell her about the party.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
