Welcome to the Real World (28 page)

I
n the Coronary Care Ward the lights are turned down low and the nurses are settling the patients for the night. Over in the corner bed, I can see that my dad has his bedside lamp on. His little area is bathed in a warm glow, and when Carl and I draw closer, I realise that Mum is there. Her chair is pulled up right next to the bedside and she's snuggled up to Dad, her head resting on his arm. Dad's eyes are closed, but the expression on his face is one of contentment.

I stop Carl's progress. 'I don't want to disturb them,' I say.

He urges me forward. 'They'll be pleased to see you.'

Sure enough, they both look up and smile warmly as we arrive.

'I thought you'd still be at the pub,' Dad says.

I give Carl a silencing glance. 'Early night tonight,' I say lightly as I kiss my dad on the forehead. 'How are you feeling?'

'All the better for seeing your mum.' He squeezes her hand as he answers and she looks up at him adoringly.

Now I do feel like we're intruding. 'I just wanted to say goodnight and then we're off.'

'I've spoken to the doctor,' Mum says. 'He says that your dad can come out next week if he keeps getting better.'

'Good.'

'And then he has to take up some gentle exercise. I thought we might go to ballroom dancing classes together.' My mum silently wills me not to say anything.

'Ballroom dancing?' I can feel my eyes twinkling with mischief. My mum owes me one for keeping quiet about this. 'You'll like that, Dad.'

He looks rather sceptical, but rashly says, 'It's what your mum wants.'

The pretty little Thai nurse, Kim, arrives at the bedside. 'Time to go to sleep, Derek,' she coos. 'We don't want you overtired.' She starts to tuck in his bedclothes.

Mum jumps up. 'I'll do that,' she says briskly. 'I'm his wife. I've been tucking this man up for longer than you've been on this planet. I'm sure you've got lots of other patients to attend to.'

I roll my eyes at Carl and stifle a smile. There's nothing like a visit from the green-eyed monster to get love all stirred up again, it seems. Kim, trying not to look put out, bustles away but not before saying, 'You call me, Derek, if you need me. Just press the buzzer.'

'I thought they were supposed to be overworked,' my mum says with an impatient tut to her retreating back.

My dad, of course, like all males is lapping up the attention.

'Shall we wait for you, Mum, and see you home?'

'No,' she says. 'I'll stay here a little longer. Your dad and I have a bit more to talk about. Give me a ring in the morning.'

'Okay.' I kiss them both warmly and Carl gives them both a peace sign. My mother gives him a fuck-off sign in return, but we don't bother to correct her.

Out on the street we jump on a passing bus, even though we've only got a few stops to go before we reach my skanky flat. It's great to see that my parents are finally making up, but I feel as if I've had all of the stuffing knocked out of me today.

The late-night bus is empty so Carl and I sit on the top deck like we used to do when we were kids. I hate the thought that the council is going to do away with the double-deckers and replace them with these new-fangled bendy Eurobusesoverlong, single-storey snakes. The red double-decker is part of London, part of my life. Tourists aren't going to come and marvel at the new ones. I snuggle against Carl and rest my heavy head on his shoulder, relaxing into the jogging motion of the bus.

'I need my bed,' I say. 'I'm absolutely knackered.'

'Me, too,' Carl agrees.

'Do you think we'll ever manage to keep a relationship going for forty years?'

'I'm not planning to live that long,' Carl says. 'I'm a rock 'n' roller. We live fast and die young.'

'Oh, yes. I keep forgetting.'

'Plus you've got to find someone that you can stay in a relationship with for more than ten minutes.'

'Hey,' I say. 'Your track record isn't much better.'

'I can blame my lack of success on extenuating circumstances,' my friend tells me. 'What's your excuse?'

I look up at him. 'That I can't recognise a decent bloke when one pokes me in the eye.'

Carl pokes me in the eye.

'Ouch!'

'Come on, rat bag,' he says. 'This is our stop.'

The night air's sharp and I wish I had a warmer coat. I'm going to have to drop by ye olde charity shop tomorrow and see if I can pick up something cheap that doesn't look like it comes with its own fleas.

We stroll along as if we're walking on a balmy evening by the Seine or something and then when we reach the top of my street I see a sight that takes my breath away.

'Oh, no,' I say. 'Oh, no.'

Carl follows my gaze and breathes, 'Shit.'

All thoughts of strolling gone, we break into a run. Carl outsprints me and reaches the scene first, but I'm hot on his heelsif that isn't a bad phrase to use.

Then we stand speechless, hands entwined, and watch as the flames leap out of the space where my flat used to be. Orange tongues lick at the sky while two firefighters at the top of ladders spray them ineffectually with gallons of water. On the ground their colleagues fight the flames that are spreading to The Spice Emporium restaurant below. I can't even find the wherewithal to say, 'That's my flat'.

I feel a tug at my sleeve and turn to see the blackened face of Ali, my landlord. He coughs dramatically, clearly suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.

'My God, Ali,' I manage. 'Are you all right? What happened?'

'I think it was your boiler, Fern,' he croaks. 'We heard a boom from upstairs. Shook all the pictures off the walls in the restaurant. A minute later the whole place was on fire.' He looks like he's about to collapse on the pavement. Carl puts his arm round Ali and hoists him up. 'I'd been meaning to fix that boiler for ages. Thank goodness you weren't in there, Fern.'

The thought makes me go weak at the knees, too, but as Carl's arms are already full, I lean against a nearby car. I think I'd like to cry, but tears won't come. Perhaps they're too stunned to make an appearance.

'Mate,' one of the firemen calls over to Ali. 'We need a word.'

Ali looks gratefully at both of us. 'I'm sorry, Fern. Really sorry.' Then he's gone, being led away by a burly bloke in a fluorescent yellow jacket.

Carl joins me, leaning against the car to watch my home burn down.

'What do I do now?' I ask him. 'I've no job and nowhere to live.'

My friend slips his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him. 'Looks like it's Super Carl to the rescue once again.'

I
don't know how we get to Carl's flatwe might have walked or taken a cab, I simply don't know. My mind must have gone into shut-down mode, because the next thing I know I'm being ushered through his front door and the kettle is on and Carl is muttering to himself about clean sheets and kipping on the sofa for the second time. He's in the process of plumping his cushions, which is
so
not rock 'n' roll.

'Stop,' I say.

My friend stops dead and looks up at me. I take the cushion from him and throw it back on the sofa with a certain cavalier action, then I pull him to me and kiss him softly on the lips. He steps back from me, hands on my shoulders and gives me a quizzical look. I pull him to me again and kiss him once more. This time he doesn't question it and responds to my kiss with a passion that leaves me reeling.

I take his hand and we walk to the bedroom. Without words, gently and carefully, Carl undresses me, touching me as if I'm a beautiful sculpture, letting his hands savour my curves. And then, when I'm naked, I undress him, too, slowly, my mouth travelling over his body as I strip him of his shirt and his jeans, making him gasp and shiver. He lowers me to the bed and we make love, tenderly and with a tantalising languidness that leaves me breathless with desire. His body feels so familiar, and yet this is a wonderful new experience, as if I'm unwrapping a present when I already know the delights it holds inside. When Carl breathes my name, I feel my soul sigh. Hours later we fall asleep in each other's arms, and I wonder why it has taken us so long to come to this point. I could have died in that flat. I could have died and never have experienced this.

I wake up early and lie watching Carl as he sleeps. Then I switch onto my back and stare at the ceiling, considering my homeless, jobless state. My friend's curtains have a terrible swirly pattern, but the sun struggles through them, bringing a warm pink glow to the room. It's cosy in here and it's a long time since I slept with a hot, male body next to me. I slide across the bed to fit into Carl's shape, relishing the feeling.

After a while, Carl starts to rouse, too. He stretches in his state of half-sleep and reaches out, throwing his arm across me. I plant a kiss on his forehead and his eyes open wide. 'Do you know,' he says, 'I thought I was dreaming.'

I turn towards him and we snuggle down nose-to-nose. Carl brushes my hair from my forehead and gently tucks it behind my ear. I thought that maybe we'd be awkward with each other this morning, but it looks like the event has passed without too much fallout.

'Are we still friends?' I ask him.

'I should think so,' he says.

'I enjoyed last night.'

'Me, too.' He moves closer to me. 'I can't believe we waited all those years to do this.'

'Was it worth it?'

'Almost,' he teases.

I kick him in the shins for his cheek.

'So what happens now?' I want to know.

'You could fall in love with me,' Carl suggests. 'That would make everything that bit easier.'

Perhaps I hesitate for a moment too long, as Carl's eyes darken slightly.

'Or,' he carries on a touch too brightly, 'you could continue your futile quest to make Evan David love you while I resume my search for someone who can begin to compete with the impossibly high standards you've set.'

'I think we should try to sort out our current financial embarrassment and accommodation crisis before we worry about our relationship.' Which nimbly avoids the situation, I believe.

'It's in your hands, Fern,' Carl reminds me with a sage tone. 'You have a big, fat contract from one of the music industry's top players in your handbag.'

'We don't know that it's a big, fat contract.'

Carl slips out of the bed, pulls on his jeans and pads into the living room. He retrieves the aforementioned handbag and hands it to me.

With a mounting feeling of trepidation, I pull out the sheaf of papers and flick through them. Reading them makes my eyes pop out on stalks and I hand the bundle over to Carl, who also scans them with ever-dilating pupils.

We look at each other. 'It's a big, fat contract,' we say in unison.

I take the papers off Carl again. 'This can't be true, can it?'

He shrugs. 'It looks like it.'

'This amount of money solves an awful lot of problems,' I tell Carl needlessly.

'I don't know why you're hesitating,' my friend says.

'Neither do I.' I search deeper into my handbag and dredge up my mobile phone. There's barely enough credit on it left to make a phone call, and I know that I have less than a fiver in my purse. These are all my worldly goods, and yet I'm holding a piece of paper in my hand with more noughts on it than I ever thought possible.

I stare at my phone and then look to Carl for reassurance. 'Are you sure I should do this?'

'Absolutely,' he says with a nod.

I tap in Rupert Dawson's phone number, and while I listen to it ringing, I say to Carl, 'There's no way that I'm doing this without you. This time it's the two of us or not at all.'

Carl holds his head in his hands. Clearly he thinks I could still blow it.

Then the phone is answered.

'Rupert?' My voice is shaking. This feels like the right thing to do. I guess only time will tell. Carl wraps his fingers round mine and squeezes them as I say, 'It's Fern. I want to accept your contract.'

I'
m to be known as Fern now. Just Fern. Nothing else. I know that I've made it as I'm reduced to one name. Fern Leanne Kendal is dead. Long live Fern.

A lot happens very quickly. Carl and I sit in front of Rupert Dawson in his swish, modern offices just off Totten-ham Court Road. I put down the pen and push the contract back towards him. Our agent rubs his hands together, indicating a degree of satisfaction. A contented beam spreads across his face. 'Welcome on board.'

He shakes my hand and then Carl's. We both sit in stunned silence. Rupert has already set us up with a 'major recording deal'as reported in the presswith a huge record company. Apparently, he'd already set the wheels in motion as soon as he left the King's Head, which I find amazing. Rupert says that he knew I'd phone him, and I have to admire his confidence because I was absolutely sure that I wouldn't phone him at all.

If miracles can happen, then this surely must be one. It's as if someone has shaken up my life and rolled me out again with a full set of sixes. Things simply can't get any better. Rupert Dawson has turned out to be the knight in shining armour I've always wished for; he has transformed me from a homeless, jobless, futureless damsel-in-distress to a hot new pop star with one wave of his twenty-four-carat gold pen. If this was the Lotto, I'd have just won The Big One.

Carl is one hundred percent involved this time and is in the process of putting a band together. We've already swapped the London Underground as our favoured mode of transport in exchange for chauffeur-driven limousines, and Rupert has given me some money upfront from my advance to buy a house. A big, bollocky house! I can hardly believe this is me saying this.

Rupert sits back in his chair, feet up on his frosted-glass desk. Pictures of the rich and famous smile down at us from every wall. I only wish there weren't quite so many of Evan David. My stomach lurches just to look at them, so I try to keep my eyes staring straight ahead.

'Evan doesn't know about this,' Rupert says as if reading my mind.

Carl's hand creeps across to mine and he holds it tightly.

'Then I'd like to keep it that way.'

'It may not be possible for very long, darling. You've hidden your light under a bushel for too long. I want you to be big. Very big.' Rupert looks as if he wants to say more, but he glances at my hand in Carl's and clearly can't read what the situation is between us, so it seems he decides to stay quiet.

Instead he breezes on, 'You have appointments with the stylists and photographers this afternoon. I'll be over there later to check on everything.' Rupert consults his diary. 'We want to get a single out quickly, so I've booked some studio time and then we need to put some material together for the first album.'

Carl and I, more than dazed, nod in unison.

Rupert reels off a list of people we'll be working withnames that I've only ever seen on other people's records. I give myself a firm pinch. Yep, I'm awake.

'Anything else you need, just call me,' Rupert says. 'I mean that. This should be an experience that you enjoy. Leave any problems to me.'

Carl and I stand.

'See you later,' Rupert says.

I go round to his side of the desk and hug him. Rupert flushes, but relaxes into my embrace. 'Thank you,' I say, my voice choked with emotion. 'Thank you so much.'

Outside, our driver is waiting for us and we slide into our limo, slipping on shades. Inside, Carl and I burst out laughing.

'Is this really happening?' Carl asks.

'I think so.'

'Shit,' he says. 'Who'd have thought?'

'Not me. That's for sure.'

Carl turns to me. 'I dropped into the King's Head yesterday.'

'Is it still struggling on without us?'

'You know that Ken the Landlord sacked you because he thought you were going to mess up another big break?'

'Did he?' I can't hide my surprise. 'The old bastard.'

'Shelly's band is playing there now.'

We don't talk about Shelly, and I feel bad that Carl's relationship with her never got much beyond first base. He doesn't seem to be holding it against me.

'When we're rich and famous, we should go back there and play a gig for Ken,' I joke. 'That would make his eyes pop out.'

'We're already rich,' Carl says. 'We just need the fame to follow.'

Now our fate is in the hands of others, all we have to do is the same thing we've always been doingsing well and graft hard.

'Let's go home,' I say. 'Joe and Nathan are moving in with me today, and I want to be there to help them.'

Home for the moment is a vast Georgian house with views over Regent's Park that I'm renting for some astronomical, telephone-number sum of money that makes me shake with terror when I see it. When I have time, I'm going to look for a place to buy as an investment and maybe somewhere in the country to get Nathan out of the city smoke on a regular basis. I'm only too well aware that the clock could already be ticking on my fifteen minutes of fame and I could be nothing more than a one-hit wonder, so I want to make sure that as well as enjoying my money, I have some security to show from my time in the spotlight, however brief it might be. But I'm also going to make the most of this and do everything in my power to ensure that I'm not featuring in
Where Are They Now?
shows in a few years time.

Currently, though, I'm basking in the golden glow of glory. I have more rooms than I have fingers to count them on, and the best thing about it all is that my lovely brother and my beautiful nephew are going to move in with me. With my first flush of success, I've already achieved more than I could ever have dreamed ofJoe and Nathan are moving out of that terrible damp flat and into this wonderful, airy home with floor-to-ceiling windows and oak floors in every room. This record deal means that I can give them all that they needin physical terms, at least. I just hope that we'll see an improvement in Nathan's condition and that he'll be able to live a normal life. I couldn't want for anything more.

There's a vast self-contained apartment at the top with two bedrooms, a bath that would hold a team of rugby players and a private roof terrace which I'm going to claim as mine. Joe and Nathan will have the run of the rest of the house. I'm also trying to persuade my mum and dad to move in as well, but they're currently convinced that this is all a big misunderstanding and that any time now the debt collectors are going to be banging at the door and the men in white coats will arrive to cart me off to the funny farm. Carl has also chosen to stay in his own flathe too is having trouble dealing with the reality of our changed circumstances and wants to take it a step at a time. Though he does spend more time hanging out at my place than at his own. He can't quite come to terms with the fact that he is now a wealthy man, although he has given up claiming government benefits.

We're still sort of an item following our unexpected night of passion, but we've slipped back more to our old platonic ways and, strangely, I'm quite glad of that. I know that we need to discuss what's going to happen in the future, but frankly we're so caught up in the mad whirl that has become our lives that it's been relatively easy to avoid it. Carl is wonderful, as always, and I hate to admit thiseven to myselfbut there's still an ache inside me for someone else. And that's less easy to ignore.