Queen Of Memphis Part 2 of our nostalgic serial

Lauren’s song is a hit, twenty years on – but she’s still not free

London, 1978

Lauren McGuinty stepped off the plane into the chilly wind of a British summer. Coming from the tropical humidity of Memphis, she was glad of the fur coat she’d bought for the trip.

London was freezing! Yet as she drew in a deep draught of the bracing air, she was invigorated by it.

Following her fellow passengers down the steps, she wished Jack could have been there to share this moment. But, of course, bringing Jack would have been impossible.

She felt guilty for planning the trip behind his back, but she was glad she’d waited until her ticket and bags were in the car before she broke the news. Fleeing an explosion was better than giving him time to wear her down and stop her coming.

She loved her son, but she gave up her dreams for him. He wasn’t going to stop her snatching them back for these three short weeks.

Lauren wished there was someone who would understand that, but living with Jack’s condition was hard to even talk about without getting funny looks.

The sight of Barrie “Lightning” Bolt waiting in the airport lounge pushed her worries from her mind and filled her with tingly excitement. She hadn’t seen him since that first time in Memphis, two months ago, and he looked even more fresh-faced and handsome than she remembered.

He was dressed as before in a 1950s-style leather jacket, tight jeans and red suede shoes. His blond hair was worn in a quiff, and he was carrying the biggest bouquet of roses Lauren had ever seen. “Welcome to England, Miss James!” Part of her wanted to protest, I’mnot Lori James! I’ m Lauren McGu in ty and I’m forty years old!

But as Lightning touched her arm and shyly leaned in to kiss her perfumed cheek, she found she was starting to feel like twenty-year-old Lori once more.

Wes Stevens, the disc jockey, was nicknamed the Birmingham Yeti because of the haystack of hair and beard that hid every feature except his sunglasses.

He pushed forward the fader that opened his microphone and drawled to ten million Radio One listeners, “That was You’ re The One That I Want by John Travolta and Olivia Neutron Bomb. Now, what were you doing in 1958?

“I wasn’t born myself,” the Brummie joked. “But my next guest was at the legendary Saturn Records studio in Memphis, recording a song called Tongue Tied Gal. The record didn’t do much at the time and Lori James hung up her rock’n’roll shoes to become a teacher – as you do.

“Little could she have imagined that twenty years later Tongue Tied Gal would be discovered by a new generation of rockabilly revivalists. Much less that the record would be re-released and that she’d be brought out of retirement for a tour of England.

“So here in the studio, to perform the song live, is the original Queen of Memphis, Miss Lori James!”

Lauren’s stomach was clenched like a fist and she’d never felt more tongue-tied as she squeaked, “Ah, one, two, three, four…”

Flanking her on double bass and a single snare drum were the two youngest musicians she’d ever seen. As skinny as girls in their punk rock singlets and ripped jeans, with their huge quiffs dyed like yellow and pink candyfloss, the boys were seventeen but looked three years younger.

Standing between them in her mauve sweater and flared jeans, Lauren thought, I must look like a frumpy mom and her two children!

But when Rob began slapping his bass and Daggy joined in with that timeless rockabilly beat, the years seemed to spin backwards.

Lauren took a deep breath, hoped for the best, and when she opened her mouth was surprised to hear the voice of Lori James come out: My tongue goes bip, bip, bip pity-bop My heart goes skip, skip, skip pity stop…

As she took her electric guitar break, Wes was drumming his hands on the console. Lightning was jigging on a seat in the corner.

Enjoying herself, Lauren was suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude to Lightning for giving her the chance to relive a dream she thought she’d given up forever.

He reminded her of Dewey Williams, the record producer who’d given her a

“That was SENSATIONAL! How does it feel to be IN DEMAND again?”

break two decades ago. Like Dewey, Lightning believed in her more than she felt she deserved. He promised her the world and he moved heaven and earth to deliver everything he said he would.

The difference was, Dewey had been like a father to her. Lightning was five or six years her junior, and that created a totally different relationship.

In Dewey’s eyes she saw a father’s pride and it made her feel like a dutiful daughter. In Lightning’s she saw a man’s admiration, and it made her feel alive.

Acting less like the forty-year-old Lauren McGuinty, with her ties and responsibilities, and more like the footloose twenty-year-old Lori James, she wiggled her hips flirtatiously and locked eyes with the promoter as she socked the final words to him: I’m a tongue tied gal, Whenever you’ re around! “That was sensational!” said the Yeti, as Lauren recovered her breath. “So tell me, Lori, how does it feel to be in demand again after all these years?”

“It’s unbelievable,” Lauren drawled, a little breathlessly. “Back in the States it’s all disco, so to come over here and see all these young kids in their teddy bear suits…” “Teddy bear suits?” the DJ teased. “Yeah, you know, those long red jackets with the velvet collars –” “I think you’ll find that’s teddy boys!” “Well that’s me – the original tonguetied gal!” Lauren giggled.

The van couldn’t have picked a more idyllic spot to break down, Lauren thought. Perched high on the passenger seat, she gazed over a deserted promenade to the crashing North Sea beyond.

It was hardly the Gulf of Mexico, where her family had vacationed when she was a kid. She was wearing a quilted Parka and needed it. But she liked the bracing English weather and the harsh screams of the seagulls that were being tossed around by gusts of wind strong enough to shake the van.

The chill made her feel awake, and for the last twenty years she felt as if she’d been sleeping, stupefied by the oppressive heat of the Mississippi Delta.

The side door of the van was open and Rob and Daggy were sitting on the step, chatting and eating chips.

They were brilliant musicians and loved the music of the Fifties with a passion. But they’d been born years after Lauren stopped making records, and the generation gap gave her and her band little in common to talk about.

Lauren had slipped into the role of their mom on the road. She chided them for not eating and checked that they didn’t leave stuff behind. They apologised if they swore in front of her and clammed up secretively if she overheard them talking about girls.

It was fun, like having a normal family. Her, Lightning and the kids, on vacation! She wondered if Lightning ever saw that similarity.

She knew it could never be like that with her, Lightning and Jack, though.

She’d dated a couple of men back in Memphis. It was always fine until they found out about Jack’s problems.

She didn’t blame them, really. Jack was a lot to take on. So she didn’t mention him to Lightning. It was better just to enjoy this three-week fantasy life.

Lightning tugged open the driver’s door and climbed behind the wheel.

“The mechanic should be here in half an hour,” he announced with his usual ready grin. “That’s the beauty of being in the AA.”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?” Lauren regarded him worriedly.

“What?” he frowned. “No, the AA. They fix cars.” “Ah, just ignore me, I’m an American.” He leaned over and stole a chip from the steaming paper in her lap. “Sorry it’s not a Memphis barbecue!” “Are you kidding me? This is delicious!” Lauren laughed. “Pork pies, Marmite, HP sauce – I don’t know how I’m going to live without British food when I get back!” “I’ll send a food parcel,” he quipped. She met his eyes, and the laughter died on her lips.

She’d be going back soon. To Jack. To her music class and the tone-deaf Scotty Atkins. Away from this rockabilly dream. Away from Lightning – a man she laughed and ate heaps of grease and salt with. A man who made her feel special even when they were stranded in a broken-down van in a windswept seaside town.

Would he miss her, the way she was going to miss him?

Lightning broke eye contact. He blushed and she felt her own face flushing. She hoped he’d put it down to the steaming chips and biting wind. “Let’s see what’s on the radio,” he said. He twisted the dial and soon a familiar echo-drenched double bass sound filled the cab. “Hey, it’s you! Second time today!” “Wow – it’s catching on!” Lauren squealed in disbelief.

“I told you – it’s a hit!”

He jacked up the volume and the voice of her younger self filled the cab.

“I always loved this stuttering bit at the end,” he enthused. “Ba-bip, bip, bip… sooooo cute and sexy!”

The passionate rasp in Lightning’s throat sent a tingle through Lauren from head to foot.

But the promoter wasn’t looking at her, he was staring hungrily at the radio, drinking in a voice that to Lauren sounded impossibly young and fresh. The sound made her sad. Lightning was besotted with Lori James, preserved forever on tape as a sexy young goddess. How could a grown-up single mom with a problem child ever be a substitute?

Three days before she flew home, Lauren’s heart was skip, skip, skipping as she stood tensely in the darkened wings of Studio 2 at the BBC Television Centre in West London. She was wearing white high heels and a gold lamé dress that Lori James had bought for a special occasion two decades before and never worn. It had a pinched waist and a wide skirt that swirled around her calves when she swayed her hips.

The outfit was completed by matching elbow-length gloves – fingerless so she could play the shiny red electric guitar that hung from her shoulders.

Not that she’d really be playing it. She’d be miming to the record that had brought her halfway across the globe.

A few feet away, Showaddywaddy were dancing around in their lime, yellow and red teddy boy suits – or teddy bear suits, as she still thought of them – performing ALittleBitOfSoap.

Lauren wondered if she was the only person in the building old enough to remember the original version by The Jarmels in 1961. The teenyboppers hanging on the edge of the stage certainly wouldn’t.

Lauren wondered what those little kids would make of her. They’d probably giggle like she was someone’s embarrassing mother.

It was the fifteen million viewers tuned in all over Britain that really scared her. As families sat eating their Thursday evening fish fingers and baked beans – or some other English delicacy – what would they make of a forty-yearold mom wiggling her hips and miming to a twenty-year-old record about a girl with a stutter? Lightning came up to her. “Are you alright?” Where they were standing, the music was boomy and distorted. He had to lean in and brush her hair with his lips so she could hear him.

The intimacy felt lovely. Wanting more, she reached for his hand in the

darkness and squeezed it. She raised her lips to speak and he inclined his ear to listen.

“I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.” Lightning shook his head and grinned. “It’s your talent that brought you here, Lori. This is what you deserve.”

It was her turn to shake her head. “Not everyone gets a second chance.”

Lightning frowned, puzzled. Before she could say more, Mike the studio manager arrived, clipboard in hand.

“If you could come this way, Miss James…”

Lauren gave Lightning’s hand a final squeeze for luck and took a deep breath as she followed the BBC man.

During the tour, Lauren had given a dozen interviews to local disc jockeys and newspapers. None had more than touched on her private life.

It was generally assumed she was one of those singers who’d made a record and never got the breaks, so she’d given up on a career that hadn’t taken off. There must have been thousands of

He made her feel SPECIAL, even STRANDED in a broken down VAN

people like that. Saturn Records was a small fish in the music business, after all.

But Dewey Williams punched above his weight, and he’d punched like a champion for Lori. He flew to New York and hustled her spots on the three biggest TV shows in America: Steve Allan, Ed Sullivan and American Bandstand. The exposure was set to make her the female Elvis. All she had to do was show up.

However a lot had happened to the innocent eighteen-year-old who had walked into Saturn Records and asked for an audition two years before.

She was married to a man jealous of the attention she got from disc jockeys, reporters, promoters and, most of all, male fans. He wanted her out of the business to stay home and cook and clean like the wives of his friends.

She also had a baby that screamed more than normal babies. It was something he got from his father, Lauren was sure – an imbalance in his brain that made his rages uncontrollable.

Lori was a tough girl. She reckoned she could cope with her husband or her baby. But caught between the two of them, something had to give, and that was her career.

Her flight to New York and national fame was booked, but she never went.

Dewey was devastated and Lauren hated herself for what she’d done to him.

Lori James died that day and Lauren McGuinty never sang again until now.

But she always kept, hidden from her husband, the unworn gold lamé dress that she bought for her television debut – a reminder of who she used to be. Or maybe always would be, somewhere deep inside.

She never thought she’d wear it again, but Lightning had given her another chance. This time, she wasn’t going to let him – or herself – down.

IShe wanted to KEEP ON being Lori – AT LEAST for a few more HOURS

n front of the stage, the Birmingham Yeti faced the camera, surrounded by a knot of excitable teenagers herded into position by the stage hands.

“Up one to number eleven, it’s Abba with Take A Chance On Me,” he yelled into the microphone. “A non-mover at number ten, the Smurfs with The Smurf Song. And in at number nine, this week’s highest new entry, we have a blast from the past, a golden oldie. All the way from Memphis, Tennessee, please give a big Top of the Pops welcome to the Tongue Tied Gal, Miss Lori James!”

At the back, behind the cameras, Lightning stood alone, forgetting to breathe as he watched Lauren swinging her gold lamé skirt amid the pulsating lights.

Behind her, the Top of the Pops dancers strutted their stuff but he never even saw them. He only had eyes for his rockabilly gal, and he’d never seen a sight more beautiful.

Staring transfixed, with his lips parted, he clenched his left fist and cupped it in his right hand as if to trap forever the exquisite feeling of her fingers squeezing his.

Lauren flopped on her hotel bed. The forty-year-old mom was exhausted to her bones from playing shows and criss-crossing the country in a van – and the twenty-year-old singer in her was more exhilarated than she’d ever been.

She was still wearing her gold lamé dress. She’d refused to change; refused to leave Lori James at the television studio. She wanted to keep on being Lori – at least for a few more hours.

Her hazel eyes gleamed and her scarlet lips framed a wide toothy grin as she stared at the ceiling without seeing it. Her mind was swirling with the sights of the past three weeks.

She’d expected to come over and play a few small clubs, not seriously believing anyone would show up. She hadn’t been prepared for vast dance halls heaving with teddy boys. She never thought she’d be interviewed or have fans queuing for autographs. Now here she was with a record in the charts and an appearance on Britain’s most-watched music programme. It was everything she’d dreamed of twenty years ago. In fact it was as if the last twenty years had never happened. If only she had someone to share her joy with! Lightning was making calls. They had two more shows to do and he worked every minute making arrangements. She couldn’t disturb him. Guiltily, she thought of Jack. She’d kept meaning to call him, but it was never been the right moment – never a moment she wanted to spoil. She couldn’t run forever, though. Besides, she wanted to share her achievement. Surely he’d understand what today meant to her? Sitting up, she picked up the phone and asked the desk for an international number. Her whole body shook as she listened to it ring. How bad could his reaction be?

Ten minutes later, the phone was back on its cradle and streams of mascara were pouring through her fingers.

There was a knock and Lightning called, “Lori, could I talk to you about tomorrow?” She opened the door. “Lori, what’s wrong?” She flung herself into his arms and he crushed her to him, raining soothing kisses on her hair and face. “What’s happened?” he demanded. She silenced him by pressing her lonely lips to his.

Too soon, Lauren would be back in reality. But before she left England, Lori was going to feel loved.