I heard my father’s spoon hit the floor. “When did this happen?”
“First of the month, on his nineteenth birthday.”
“What on earth made you go back to him?” my mother asked. She looked horrified.
I looked at them both. “I’m in love, that’s what.”
“You have deceived me the whole time, haven’t you?” my mother accused. “You two never broke up.” She glared at me and I wanted to crawl under the table.
I stood my ground. “Do you think I could fake being that miserable? I’m an artist, not an actress. The only thing keeping my mind off him was school.”
My father shook his head. “I am very disappointed.”
“I wish you could see Keith for who he really is,” I sighed.
“Well don’t ask for our blessing. He is not right for you,” my mother added.
“You don’t even want to know him.”
My father rose, nearly knocking over his chair. “I can’t believe you’re throwing your life away on this lad. If you neglect your studies, you’ll continue your education in France or we won’t support you.”
This time I didn’t hold back my anger. “I’ve devoted every ounce of energy into my second year presentations coming in February and I’m making sure my entries are perfect. You act like I don’t have a brain in my head.”
“That is exactly what you are acting like staying involved with this lad!” my father screamed. “I have enough life experience to recognize this lad will amount to nothing.”
“You’re wrong!” was all I could say.
The remainder of my visit was strained. I was glad when Aimee and I were on a train to Orly.
“How did your parents react about you and Keith?” Aimee prodded.
“Not good,” I lamented. “It’s causing a rift between us.”
Aimee sighed. “I don’t know why they’re being like that.”
“They don’t want to know him,” I replied. “I wonder if they’ll ever come around.”
Keith was at the gate when our plane landed and we flew into each other’s arms.
“Are you staying at Keith’s or coming home?” Aimee asked.
“Definitely with Keith,” I responded between kisses.
“I’ll give you a lift, come on,” Keith told Aimee.
By the time we got to Keith’s flat it was past ten. I dumped my bags by the door and within seconds we were snogging.
We made it to the bedroom but as much as I wanted to give in to our passion, I couldn’t stop worrying. Will my parents ever accept Keith? What will happen after we’re married? As Keith continued caressing me, my worries evaporated. I realized how much I missed him. I ran my hands up the inside of his thighs, then through his ebony tresses. Then with a sudden push, we were going at each other like wild animals. Euphoria soon overtook me. I at least told my parents and no longer had to rush home to receive intrusive phone calls from my mother.
Having spent most the night in steamy passion, we awoke bleary-eyed. We had to be at Ryan’s by nine for the ride to Brighton and I still had to go to my place to pack. I put my makeup on in Keith’s car.
“There’s nowhere to park,” Keith said, pulling up to the bedsit. “I’ll meet you back here. Be quick.”
“I promise.” I gave him a quick kiss and rushed up to my first floor room.
Aimee was still sleeping so I quietly gathered what I needed, left a quick note wishing her a happy new year and rushed back downstairs.
We were nearly an hour late. Everyone was standing outside smoking when the Healey careened to a stop.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Ryan fumed.
“I just got my girl back after a fucking week and didn’t get much sleep. Lay off.”
I didn’t think he needed to advertise that to everyone. I dragged my bag and art supplies from the boot of the Healey. “Where can I put these?
“Fuck if I know.” Ryan didn’t need to sound so annoyed. “We barely have room for all our gear and merchandise. Now you fucking bring this. If you two were on time, I’d have stashed it in the roof carrier, but it’s crammed full.”
“Maybe I’ll take the train and meet you there.” This was becoming more desirable by the second.
“No,” Keith jumped in. “We’ll find a place to put it.”
Louisa rushed out. “Oh good, you’re here. I worry about you going with all these lads. Do your parents know you’re going?”
“Yes, they know.” I was so tired of being asked that.
“I packed sandwiches and brownies for everyone. She handed everything to Ryan. “Be sure to ring me when you arrive so I know you arrived safe.”
Ryan promised and climbed into the driver’s seat. The rest of us followed suit.
An hour later we pulled up to the hotel. It was a bit run down — not as nice as the one in Liverpool. I wondered if Keith used his money to pay for it.
We were there long enough to check in and drop our things. The band had to immediately go to sound check. I opted out of tagging along.
“Shall we meet back at the hotel, then?” Keith asked me. “We can go on a quick explore and maybe re-enact some of the scenes from Quadrophenia.”
“Sounds fun,” I agreed. “I’ll meet you here in an hour. I want to paint the pier.”
We parted with a long kiss. I gathered my easel and paints and headed out. The wind whipping off the channel felt like icy toothpicks lashing my face. I wrapped my scarf tighter, but soon deemed it too cold and headed back to our room.
Keith burst in moments after. “We want to march through town yelling, we are the mods to re-enact Quadrophenia.”
“I was hoping for time for just for us,” I protested.
“We will. We just thought this would be fun. Ryan has his parents’ video camera. Would you mind recording us?”
I reluctantly agreed, though wouldn’t have minded participating in the march myself. Quadrophenia was one of my favorite movies.
In case there wasn’t time later, I changed into my concert outfit — a black pleated mini skirt with small pink dots, my Union Jack shirt and black leggings. I added the black bow for my hair.
Keith was on the bed playing his guitar. “Are you ready?
“Lay off. You sprang this on me suddenly so I have to get ready in case there’s no time after.”
We reached the lobby and I had to contend with more grumbles about taking too long.
“You know if one more person complains about me I’ll go off by myself and you can videotape yourselves,” I threatened.
No one said anything more.
We wandered the narrow streets and I recorded four ratty chaps marching and chanting, We are the mods! We are the mods! Several motorists honked or yelled obscenities as they headed into the street. Billy flipped one motorist off, who acted like he might get out of his car. We fled the scene, laughing all the way. I had it all on video. We headed to the beach to recreate the riot scene. Ryan insisted I stand below and video everyone jumping over the wall, pretending to beat each other up. It was hardly a re-enactment with everyone laughing.
Unfortunately there was no way to view the tape.
“We passed somewhere selling tellys,” Jimmy said. “Let’s get them to play it. I think it’s this way.”
After several minutes of Jimmy saying, “I’m sure it’s this way,” and running into dead ends, Keith finally said. “Fuck it. I’ll see you at the club. Come on, luv. Let’s leave this lot and find our own fun.”
At last, time alone. Tres bliss. We found a place boasting the best fish and chips in Brighton and went inside. It felt good to be warm. I ordered hot tea. Keith ordered Guinness.
We took our time exploring Brighton before heading to the club. Half-way there we ran into the others. “Hey, we found somewhere selling tellys.” Jimmy said. He led us to a store with tellys in the window. I doubted they’d let us hang about to watch our video. I was right. A grey-haired gentleman refused Jimmy’s pleas.
“Really, we’re art students from London making a movie but our video broke,” he lied. “It won’t take ten minutes.”
He eyed us suspiciously. “Can you prove you’re a student? Have ID?”
“I do,” I piped up. I dug through my purse and produced my student ID. “They’re with me. We’d be most grateful.”
“Let me have the tape. I don’t trust you lot with my equipment.”
Jimmy nudged me. “Well done!”
I guessed I still looked honest even in my punk clothes. The tape was popped in a machine. We laughed so loud the man came
back, popping the tape out before it finished. “That’s enough from you lot. Now off with you.”
I thanked the man before Jimmy could protest and we stumbled out to the biting wind, laughing all the way to the club.
Everything was going perfectly. Even Ryan came for me so I could watch front and center. The concert began when Keith ripped into the opening chords of No Connection and the crowd exploded with mad fury, slamming into each other and diving off the stage. I hung onto the stage with all my strength to keep from getting knocked down.
The band kept going with a song called Save the Sinners. Everyone cheered whenever Keith sang about drinking another pint.
“Good evening, Brighton,” Keith yelled. “Happy new year. I’m told we sold all thousand tickets tonight. No one can say punk isn’t alive in Brighton.”
The crowd roared their approval.
“This next song is called There’s Gonna Be a Riot. It’s about a riot we caused in Liverpool last summer. Hit it!”
The chords spewed forth and the audience resumed their frenzy. One girl, wearing tight leather trousers she was a bit portly for, leaped on stage, grabbed Keith for an impromptu kiss, then leaped into the arms of comrades. I would have let her fall.
At a few seconds to midnight the band led the audience in a countdown. At the zero hour everyone erupted into screams and whistles. “Now everyone give your sweetheart a big new year’s kiss.” Keith leaped off stage, wrapped his arms around me, and we engaged in a long kiss. I hoped the girl who’d grabbed him saw us.
Keith leaped back onto the stage and yelled into the mike, “Happy fucking 1990! To start the new year and new decade, I’ll play a song for my love. It’s called Punk Rock Girlfriend.
I hoped the girl in the too-tight trousers now felt foolish as Keith sang,
Punk rock girlfriend, all through time
You’re my song: music and rhyme
You’re my fa-vo-rite pastime
Punk rock girlfriend!
After an hour, the band left the stage, but the audience wouldn’t let them go so easily and chanted, “Piss Ants! Piss Ants!” until they returned. Thunderous cheers rang forth so loudly I thought they might shatter shop windows. They played Clash City Rockers and Anarchy in the UK. “Goodnight, Brighton. You’ve been the best fucking audience!”
I fought my way against the tide streaming from the club and made it backstage.
“Oh good, you’re here,” Ryan said to me. “We need to get the table set back up quickly before the club empties.”
“Not so fast,” Keith said. “She’s drinking champagne with me first.” Keith thrust a glass of bubbly nectar into my hands. He clanked my glass with his. “To us.”
“I’ll meet you out there,” Ryan said.
“We’re supposed to do autographs,” Keith said. “But I wanted to share a glass first.”
The other band members left so we temporarily had backstage to ourselves. Keith seized the opportunity, wrapped me in his arms and kissed me. “I want to shag you right now.” He ran his hands up my skirt. I slapped it away and giggled. “Not here, you twit.”
His hand then went up my shirt and we fell onto a sofa in fits of giggles. I was getting sucked in, but even after champagne, shagging on a sofa in a seedy backstage room was not particularly romantic.
Someone from the club burst in to tell Keith he was needed at the autograph table. It took seconds before he realized what he’d interrupted and looked both intrigued and a bit embarrassed. “Sorry if I’m interrupting.”
He left as quickly as he entered. Keith and I erupted into laughter while I tried straightening myself out.
We ventured out. Keith had one arm around me and held a bottle of champagne in the other as we made it to the sales table. Jimmy and Billy were signing furiously. Ryan sold as fast as people bought. He looked up and the gathering throngs realized who just showed and practically climbed on top of each other to get Keith to autograph their new treasures. Some reporter was trying to ask questions, but the band seemed more interested in guzzling champagne, smoking and mingling with fans.
Ryan saw us. “Where the hell were you? Get over here.”
Keith poured me more champagne.
“Drink up, luv. It’s a new decade.”
“No more,” I insisted. “Remember I’m half your size and can’t drink as much.”
“In that case, there’s only one thing I can do.” He grabbed me, wrapped me in his arms and kissed me before I could protest.
“Oh, Keith, could I get your autograph?”
I broke free and saw the girl who’d assaulted Keith earlier. Her flab bulged from her leather trousers. She pointed to a strategic part of the Piss Ants shirt she’d put on over the shirt she came with. “The other blokes signed here. Would you please?”
I noticed Keith looked uncomfortable, but was that only because I was watching? Did she notice Keith and me snogging? Keith scribbled his name in a less conspicuous spot. “There you are, luv. Cheers!”
She stood like a dead tree stump trying to engage Keith in conversation. I returned to selling, but kept a wary eye out.
Finally, last call came. We made a few final sales before the club emptied.
“We’ve fucking made enough to buy a tank of petrol and cover the hotel,” Ryan exclaimed. “We did better here than in bloody Liverpool!”
When we finally staggered into our hotel room I took my money from my bra. Keith grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “You didn’t give me the pleasure of retrieving that? I’m disappointed.”
I giggled. “It was getting scratchy.”
“Is that right? Let me have a look?” He ran his hands up my shirt, trying to get it off.
“It’s a little late to start anything, you twit. I need my beauty sleep,” I protested.
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you stay beautiful? You sleep all the time?”
“I know it’s not your way. You barely sleep, yet stay gorgeous.”
Once in bed, I found it impossible to resist Keith’s advances and due to hot, steamy action, we didn’t get to sleep until nearly five.
Before the nine o’clock alarm came, someone was pounding on our door. I threw on my dressing gown while Keith slipped into the Levis he’d dumped on the floor hours before.
“Open up, Keith, it’s me,” Ryan yelled.
Keith opened the door.
“We have a fucking disaster. The hotel management woke me to tell me our van was bloody broken into. The back windows are smashed and our instruments fucking stolen!”
“My new guitar?” was Keith’s response. He suddenly turned white as a sheet.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
