All of my time was taken up with studying, going to the gym that my Dad had just bought in Brentwood or helping my Mum out in the shop my Dad had bought for in the local high street. My Mum had always had fantastic fashion sense and absolutely loved clothes so when my Dad came home and told her he’d helped out a mate by taking his struggling business off his hands, she barely listened. My Dad seemed to have so many businesses on the go it was hard to keep track, but then my Dad happened to mention that it was a frock shop as he called it, my Mum was all ears.
The following day was a Saturday so my Mum and I went down and had a look, it was a good sized shop in a fantastic location but it had a terrible range of stock. We lived in an affluent area, the shop had a high end hairdressers and beauty salon on one side and a bespoke furniture designers on the other, the shop itself sold absolute crap, cheap, nasty ‘fashion’ items; just the name ‘Hollywood Fashions’ would be enough to put off most of the women who would frequent the shops either side.
By that afternoon, my Mum had one of my Dad’s draughtsmen who worked for his building company around, giving her advice on the changes she wanted to make. It took her around two months to have the place re-fitted, re-named and stocked with an up to the minute range of designer labels, by the time I’d finished with college, between us we were running a very successful business and had extended into the furniture shop next door. My Dad having somehow convinced the owners to relocate to another shop he owned, further down the high street. I’d been on numerous buying trips with my Mum, spending time in Europe and Asia and in the summer of 1987 we opened our second shop in Chingford; while my Mum took over the opening of the new store, I took up the reins of the Brentwood store. Not only were we selling clothing but we now offered a full range of accessories, including, shoes, handbags, scarves and sunglasses and had seven girls working for us. Despite the fact that I had zero social life, I was always busy and had little time to think about how dead I was inside; it had been over two years since I’d seen or heard from Sean but it still hurt like it was five minutes ago. I’d come to terms with the fact that it would probably always hurt but I still wasn’t ready to face the world. I’d barely spoken a few words to Marley in that time and that was only because I was being polite at the Christmas dinner table last year, a few days before then, Lennon had asked me if it would be okay to invite Sean to have lunch with us as he had nowhere to go. I apologised to Len but explained that I just couldn’t, just the thought of seeing him made me want to vomit, not because I disliked him but because I still loved him so very, very much, Len said that he understood, but I doubt that he actually had any idea.
Finally in the August of ‘88, I ended my self-imposed social isolation and went for a drink after work with Ashley; she was working for us now, we had three shops and were due to be opening a fourth before Christmas in Epping, we had managers in all of them and my Mum and I spent most of our time with buyers and now some small independent designers, who made stuff exclusively for us. Our range now including a few lines for men and underwear for both men and women, I had an office above the Brentwood shop and would soon be moving into my very own flat there as well. The tenants that were already in place had given notice and I’d convinced my Dad to fix it up and let me move in, Ash wanted to move in with me but I wanted to live alone, that way I could control the TV and the radio and anything else that might bring me into contact with Sean and the band, something that had become a complete obsession with me. The band were now world famous, my parents had sold our family home and bought a farm house in the countryside just outside of Brentwood, Lennon and Jimmie had bought their own place and were getting married next year and Marley had bought a place in the city to crash, whenever the band were in the country and I very rarely saw him. Jim and Lennon were only living around the corner so finally I got to see her on a regular basis again; she was working alongside Len as part of the management team for the band and so got to travel with him whenever she wanted to. I had dinner and caught up with them at least three or four times a month and they were always good in avoiding any mention of Sean and the band if possible, I had called Jim that afternoon and invited her for drinks tonight and she was going to meet us there.
My palms were sweating and I felt absolutely sick as we walked into the wine bar that night. I was glad we’d come somewhere up market and swanky as this, it was as far removed from the sweaty pubs I used to go to with the band as you could get. Full of big hair, shoulder pads and yuppies and yet, here I was, still thinking about him. I was almost twenty and still fucked up over a boy I met when I was eleven. I heard a loud squeal as we headed for the bar and saw that Jimmie was already here. She jumped up from her stool at the tall round table as she spotted us; she knew what a big deal this was for me. I’d driven my parents insane with worry these past few years and I knew they’d asked her to do what she could to get me out of the house but Jimmie knew nothing would work, she knew I’d do it in my own time and she was right, the time was now and here I was.
She threw her arms around me and whispered into my ear, “I am so fucking proud of you Georgia Layton, so fucking proud.” I almost teared up, something I hadn’t allowed myself to do since that fuck awful week my world fell apart.
Because Thursday was our late night, we hadn’t closed the shop up until seven, by the time we had touched up our makeup and titivated as my Dad liked to call it, then walked up the high street to the wine bar, it was around seven thirty. The place was now packed full of the after work crowd from the city, double breasted suits and mullets, so not my type! We joined Jimmie at the table, as she poured us a glass of wine each from the bottle she had in a cooler, we sat and chatted and caught up, knocking back the first bottle in ten minutes.
Ash got up and went to the bar to buy another and as soon as she left, Jimmie grabbed my hand. “George, I really need to talk to you and it’s about the banned subject.” My stomach lurched.
“Is it about him or the band or something different?”
“It’s about ‘that’ night. I found a few things out today at work, things I really think you should know.”
“Will it change anything, will it fix this horrible fucking pain I have in my chest Jim, will it make it possible to hear his name, say his name even, without me wanting to pass out.”
“Oh George, is it still that bad?” I nod my head.
“Yep, every second of every day.” She reaches out and squeezes my hand.
“Then you need to hear what I have to say, because he’s in exactly the same state you are.”
Fuck!
“What?”
“He’s a mess G, a complete fucking mess, he gets up on that stage or in front of a camera and he’s big bad Maca but as soon as the show is over, all he wants is you. He does the interviews, smiles for the cameras, stays for five minutes at the after show parties and then he goes home, he still loves you George and he misses you so much.”
My hand instinctively reaches up to the delicate silver necklace I still wear, it’s the only part of him that I’ve allowed to stay in my life and that’s only because I can’t actually see it, well I can if I look in a mirror but it’s been there so long now, that I don’t really notice it, it’s part of me, of who I am, exactly like he is.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
My head is spinning and it’s not because of the wine.
“Because it’s what you wanted, because, until today, I thought you were right, I thought you had every right to stay away from him, I thought it was the right thing for you but now I’m not so sure.”