Please Don't Stop The Music (10 page)

‘
Your instructions were great. The taxi driver never knew this
place existed before now, it’s a lovely village.’

‘
Thank you,’ I replied without thinking.

‘
Build it yourself then, did you?’

‘
Ah,
I see Mister Polite has released control of your body. Come
in.’

Ben
followed me into the living room and then we stood, side by side,
silent. He was wearing the nice aftershave again. ‘This is fun,’ he
said finally.

‘
Yes. Not a bit awkward or anything.’ I could see him eyeing
up the dress, and to forestall any difficult questions I grabbed
the bottle from the dining table and poured him a glass of white
wine. ‘So. Sit down.’

‘
Yes! Ma’am!’

‘
I
didn’t mean – ’ I took a giant sip of my wine. ‘Please. Sit down.
If you can bear to soil yourself with our petty furniture that
is.’

‘
I’ll try.’ Ben sat. I perched on the arm of the saggy but
comfortable chair opposite and carried on drinking. ‘So, is it just
yourself here or–?’

‘
Oh,
no, I share the place with Rosie. She’s my friend, the one I told
you about.’

‘
The
baby’s mum?’

‘
Yes. And the baby’s called Harry.’

‘
Right.’ Ben took a sip of his wine and looked around at the
walls. They were plain stone, whitewashed and hung with several of
Rosie’s pictures, but even so they didn’t merit quite the scrutiny
he was giving them. The silence stretched.

‘
Dinner will only be a minute!’ Rosie stuck her head into the
room again and I seized on the distraction.

‘
Ben, this is Rosie. Rosie, this is, obviously,
Ben.’

Ben
stood up and smiled. ‘Hello.’

Rosie came out of the doorway towards us, grinning a grin
which slowly left her face. She turned to stare at me.

‘
Jemima?’ she asked.

‘
What? You told me to invite Ben, so I did. That’s still all
right, isn’t it?’

Rosie looked from me to Ben and back again. ‘Well, yes, of
course. Sorry, I’m just – distracted. Um. Nice to meet you – Ben.
Jem, could you come and give me a quick hand, the chilli is playing
up out here.’

‘
All
right.’ I followed her into the tiny kitchen which was full of
bubbling noises and steam, accounting for the frantic nature of her
curls. She shut the door behind us.

‘
Jemima!’

‘
What?’ I was genuinely puzzled by her reaction. ‘I know he’s
a bit skinny but he’s OK, honestly. Well mostly OK. Especially when
he’s not wearing Lycra.’

Rosie dropped her voice so that it was
barely audible
over the sound of the
boiling. ‘Don’t you know who he
is
?’

‘
Yes, I already said. It’s Ben.’

Rosie ran her hands through her curls. She
now looked as though she’d been attacked by an evil hairdresser.
‘Jemima,’ she said very evenly. ‘I know I’ve never asked questions
about your past or anything but tell me this. Did you spend the
last five years on
the
moon
? That man, in there.’ Rosie put both
hands on my shoulders. ‘That man is
Baz
Davies
.’

‘
His
name’s Ben.’

‘
No!’ Rosie shook me now. ‘Baz
Davies!
The
Baz
Davies. Lead singer and guitarist in
the
biggest band to come out of
Yorkshire in the last ten years and I am
including
the Arctic Monkeys in
that. Haven’t you ever heard of Willow Down?’ She sighed. ‘Listen.
Willow Down. Huge. Sensation. Made Coldplay look like some outfit
touting round Working Men’s Clubs. Went to the States. Huge in
States. Baz Davies …’ She flung out an arm towards the living room.
‘… dropped out. Went to ground. Band fell apart.’

Benedict Arthur Zacchary Davies.

‘
Oh,’ I said.

‘
He’s been off the radar for five years.
No-one knows what happened, they were in the middle of a tour of
the States that was, apparently, phenomenal. I saw them once.’
Rosie’s eyes suddenly went misty. ‘Fibbers, that club in York. They
played
Foolish Words
, my favourite, I got drunk and went home with a bloke who
turned out to be hung like a mule. Ah, happy
days.’

I
walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Ben was
still perched on the edge of the sofa, rolling his now empty glass
between his fingers.

‘
We
subdued the chilli but I’m afraid the rice might go for your
throat,’ I said.

Ben
looked at me. ‘You know.’

‘
What? That you used to be in a band? Yes. Rosie recognised
you. Saw you play Fibbers, apparently.’

He
gave a short laugh, then shook his head. ‘That’s gone, not me any
more. This is who I am.’

I
felt a little tremble down my spine. ‘Yes.’

‘
I’m
not that person now.’ Ben stood up.

‘
I
understand.’

‘
I’d
better go.’ Ben handed me the glass. ‘I’m sorry. I thought it would
be all right, but people keep – it’s like they won’t let it go.’ He
turned and headed for the front door, but I followed, catching him
in the doorway.

‘
Ben, wait.’ I grabbed his arm and he went
suddenly still, like a cat picked up by the scruff. Then he turned
in my grasp. ‘Look, I don’t care who you are. I don’t even know who
you
were
, I never
heard of Willow Down before tonight. All I know is you’re Ben
Davies and you’ve got a shop in York. That’s all I want to
know.’

‘
It’s not as simple as that. Really, Jemima. You’re best off
staying clear of it all. You’re a nice girl and I was getting used
to being Ben with you, but–’ he tailed off, eyes
clouding.

‘
But
it’s like being haunted by your former self?’

A
sudden, surprised smile rose on his face. ‘Yeah. Pretty much.
Whatever I do, wherever I am, someone will recognise me. Oh, it’s
less than it used to be, now it only happens once, twice a year and
they get fed up with waiting for a sound-bite from me on why I
quit, how could I do that to the band, all that shit. My customers
stopped bothering to recognise me ages ago. But it’s there, always,
there in the background with the looks and the whispers.’ The smile
was gone now, replaced by a hunted look. ‘Sometimes – Christ, I
can’t believe I’m saying this – sometimes I wish that Baz Davies
had died.’

‘
Oh,
Ben.’ I patted his arm and he let me. ‘Look. Stay and have dinner.
Rosie’s all right, just ask about Harry and she’ll forget anyone
else in the world exists let alone some ex-guitarist.’

‘
And
you?’ There was an expression which might have been hope in his
eyes.

‘
Oh,
I don’t give a stuff who you were. Right now you’re the only person
willing to sell my buckles so if you told me you wanted to be known
as Mary Jane I’d go along with it.’

Ben
leaned back against the wall. ‘I don’t know.’

‘
Sooner or later people are going to forget, you know. You’re
just going to be this bloke who used to play in a band, like
millions of others. Come on, Ben. Stop hiding. Get on with your
life.’ I felt myself cringing inside – I could talk the talk like
no other, but when it came to walking the walk – .

‘
I
can’t. I can’t take the questions, Jemima.’

‘
Then why don’t you give a press conference and tell them what
they want to know?’

‘
No.’

‘
Oh
come on, people will forgive almost anything these days! What was
it, drugs? Booze? Drugs and booze? Are you gay?’

For
a second his eyes were full of the dusk. ‘Why can’t you just let it
be? Why can’t anyone?’

I
looked over my shoulder into the cottage. Jason was standing
watching us, half-hidden in the entrance to the living room. He
raised his eyebrows at me.

‘
Ben?’ Ben had his head down, hair covering his face. I
touched him again, finger to shoulder and he shuddered like a
nervous horse. ‘Come on. Rosie’s made one of her Mexican specials.
You wouldn’t want to disappoint a woman who can cook like she can,
trust me. Your stomach will love you for it.’

Every word he’d said had slit through my skin and run into my
veins. Every word I’d said to him had been loaded with hypocrisy
and I wished I could tell him so. But I couldn’t.

‘
Just promise me one thing.’ Ben looked up
at me eventually. ‘Before I go back in there, before I have to
start pretending all over again.’ His eyes were very dark. ‘Promise
me that it won’t make a difference. Now you know who I am, who
I
was
– that
everything will go on the same.’

‘
What, that we’ll still snap and snipe at each other like a
couple of prize bitches? Oh, I think that’s without
question.’

A
small smile tinted his face. It took away some of the pallor of his
skin and gave his eyes a bit of sparkle. ‘Oh, good. I
think.’

‘
Although I have to say that you’re the
first famous person I’ve ever met who was glad that I
didn’t
know who they
were.’

‘
You’ve met a lot, have you?’ Ben let me lead him back into
the living room. The hunched, scared expression was mostly
gone.

‘
Oh,
yeah.’ Well, I’d been locked up with a woman who’d stalked Robbie
Williams. That probably counted.

Chapter Nine

Rosie, Ben and Jason got on surprisingly well. OK, maybe not
so surprising, when you’re five bottles and a Mexican Chilli
special in, almost anyone you can focus on begins to look like a
friend. But it helped that Jason, like me, hadn’t the faintest idea
who Willow Down had been. Ben finally relaxed and only occasionally
betrayed how he was feeling by twisting at the cuffs of his
shirt.

‘
So, you coming to Saskia’s grand opening?’
Rosie shoved
another portion of chilli
onto Ben’s plate. The bloke looked
as if
he only weighed about eight stone but he could eat like
a man who’s been in training. Jason poured Ben
another
glass of wine and furtively drank
the dregs of the bottle.

‘
Who’s Saskia?’

‘
Well,’ I brandished my knife. In my defence I was also more
than a little bit pissed. ‘You see this pointy thing? Imagine this,
in the mouth of a Rottweiler that’s covered in pins.’

‘
With a bellyful of wasps,’ added Rosie helpfully.

‘
That’s Saskia. And she’s opening her shop – well, re-opening
it. Jason’s doing it, aren’t you?’

Jason jumped guiltily. ‘What? What’m I doin’ now? Come on,
Jem, y’ can see both me hands!’

‘
He’s her sleb.’ Then I went a bit quiet because we were all
painfully aware that Ben’s celebrity status could have knocked
Jase’s into a pond. ‘Anyway. It’s next week. We’re all
going.’

‘
Things like that aren’t really my – well, thing,’ Ben said.
ignoring Jason. ‘I’m not much one for crowds. And I don’t know
her.’

‘
That’s all right, we all wish we didn’t know her and we’re
still going!’

Ben
gave us all an old-fashioned look, which I think was meant to be
disapproving but his head was wobbling so it gave him more of an
air of a slightly pissed-off glove-puppet. ‘You three are horrible,
aren’t you?’

‘
And
proud of it.’ I held out my glass for Jason who’d popped the cork
on the last bottle, the one Ben had brought.

There was a flare of lights as a car turned into the driveway
and stopped, followed by a momentary blaring of a horn. Ben covered
his glass with his hand. ‘That’ll be my taxi,’ he said. ‘Need to
get up early. Got another appointment tomorrow at eleven. Don’t
want to be hungover for it. Will you be all right to come over and
mind the shop for me, Jemima?’

I
nodded. Ben got up and I was suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to
grab his arm and ask him not to go. To stay here, shooting the
breeze into the small hours and getting giggly over Jason’s
ridiculous world view, as we had been doing. It was as though we’d
been in a bubble for the last few hours, one in which I didn’t have
to think about anything other than this life I’d made for myself.
Me. Here and now. With Rosie and Jason playing host and hostess and
this skinny rock-guy with the big secrets.

‘
Jem?’ Ben laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘You all right? You
looked like you were on another planet there for a
minute.’

Some
of the stress was gone from his face. I felt a tiny flutter inside
me, somewhere round my heart. Yes, Ben was a good-looking guy. I
could see it but I daren’t acknowledge it. Even the knowing caused
a little acid burn at the base of my stomach.

‘
Nah, I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

To
my surprise he moved a tendril of hair away from my face. ‘Yes.
Another day of insults and misunderstandings.’