Queen Of Memphis Concluding chapters of our nostalgic serial

Was it time for Lauren to forget about dreams of stardom?

Mrs McGuinty! Are you with us?” “Huh?” Lauren realised the principal was staring at her with beetled eyebrows, as was everyone else at the staff meeting.

“We’re discussing the new music room,” the principal said with laboured patience. “...something I thought you of all people would be interested in.” Lauren put a hand to her temple. “I’m sorry, Mr Deadwood,” she said weakly. “I’m not myself today.”

“Evidently!” her superior snapped.

Lauren was still stinging from the principal’s words an hour later as she drove her Oldsmobile out through the gates of Jefferson Elementary School in West Memphis.

But who could blame her for letting her mind wander back to England?

Two weeks ago, she’d been standing on stage with a scarlet skirt and frothy white petticoats swirling around her knees, singing rock’n’roll to a hoard of jiving teenagers in brightly coloured teddy bear suits – or teddy boy suits, or whatever they were called.

It didn’t seem real. She turned on the radio and heard Barbara Mandrel singing about thinking single in a double bed.

The words brought back a hot memory of her last nights in London with the English promoter, Barrie ‘Lightning’ Bolt. She punched a different station and got the Bee Gees singing NightFever. She turned the radio off. There was no rockabilly on the airwaves in America, even in Memphis, the town where Elvis invented it; just country, disco or the headache-inducing heavy rock that her son Jack loved.

Her friend Martha was just about the only person in the country who knew that Lauren was in the British charts with TongueTiedGal, a song she’d recorded as Lori James, twenty years ago.

As the forty-year-old music teacher swung the Olds into her magnolia-lined street, the British rockabilly revival seemed like a different world.

And that was how it had to stay, she reminded herself, as she pulled onto the sun-baked drive of her neat timber-frame house.

Lightning didn’t love her. He was besotted with Lori James, a footloose 20-year-old cutie trapped forever in time on the cover of a 45rpm single.

For three short weeks, Lauren had shared his fantasy that she was still that girl. She wouldn’t have missed it for the world. But in the long term, a fantasy was all it could be.

Memphis was hotter than usual, without a breath of breeze. The humidity stuck her dress to her back and flattened her golden hair in the short walk from her car to her front door.

Back in the cool, she was glad as always of the hour or so she’d have alone before Jack got home.

When she’d left for England, it had been ugly. Things had been thrown and smashed. Martha had done a wonderful job straightening the mess before she got home. That woman was worth her weight in gold.

Since she’d been back, Jack had settled down quickly, as she knew he would. After twenty years, Lauren knew how to manage his mood swings.

The only blip had been when Lightning phoned unexpectedly one evening. It must have been the small hours in England and his husky voice in her ear did strange things to her.

She’d had to quickly get rid of him, as Jack yelled from the lounge, demanding to know who she was talking to.

Everything would be SMOOTH as long as she didn’t GO AWAY again

“It was just Mr Deadwood, from school,” she said, nervously. “At this time of night?” “No rest for the wicked!” she quipped and darted for the kitchen to hide her pink cheeks. Jack grunted and turned back to the TV.

The secret with Jack was routine. If his dinner was on the table, his clothes were washed and he knew where she was at all times, he was content.

Everything would be smooth as long as there was no talk of her going away again.

Dinner was almost ready and Jack was due any minute when the phone jangled in the hall.

“Hey Lori, guess what?” Lightning’s excitable English accent went through her like, well, a lightning bolt. TongueTied Gal’s at number two!”

“Wow!” Lauren’s mind reeled from prawn risotto to the British charts. The lurch made her seasick.

“You’ve got to come back for more gigs!” Lightning enthused. “I can’t!” she squeaked. “I have a job...” “You get a half term break or whatever, don’t you? Give me the dates and I’ll start booking shows.”

“Lightning...” She tried to interrupt, but his enthusiasm was unstoppable.

“We need new material, too. An album and a new single. I’ve talked to Dewey and he’s going to book a studio...”

Lauren’s head was spinning. She hadn’t recorded in twenty years.

England was supposed to have been a one off – a crazy holiday. She hadn’t expected any fans to show up, much less that she’d end her tour on TopofthePops! “I have school...” she protested. “That’s okay, we can record in the evening after work. Look, I’ll be coming over in a couple of weeks. I’ve found some great songs for you to cut.”

Lauren’s heart began to pound in panic. There wasn’t a day when she didn’t miss him. But that memory belonged in London.

This was Memphis, where she had a grown-up son with emotional problems, who Lightning didn’t even know about. And her risotto was starting to burn!

“I’m sorry, Lightning.” Her mascara was running. “I can’t do this...”

“...but you’ll have to take some time off for a proper tour, soon,” he was saying, as if he hadn’t even heard her. “I’m getting calls from France, Germany, Sweden... We’ll make a fortune!”

Lauren exploded. “That’s all you want me for, isn’t it? Records, tours, money! I’m just a cash cow to milk!” “Lori, that’s not fair...” “I’m not Lori!” She screamed. “I’m Lauren!”

She smashed the phone down and burst into tears. Then looked up fearfully, as Jack’s key turned in her front door.

Dewey Williams was an old school producer. He liked to record a vocalist singing live with the band. That was what put the spontaneity in the hits of the fifties.

But studio time was expensive. Without a singer, he had no choice but to start recording backing tracks. Lauren would have to overdub her voice later. That was if she showed up.

Lightning joined the silver-haired producer in the control room. Dewey was dressed as expensively as ever in a pinstripe waistcoat and pink silk shirt, worn open at the neck and with the sleeves folded up his tanned forearms to show a chunky gold watch and bracelet. The cool air-conditioned room was scented with his cologne.

Lightning glanced through the glass window to where a longhaired doublebass player and a guitarist were tuning their instruments. “How’s it going?” he asked. “Be goin’ great if I had a singer,” Dewey drawled, pointedly.

“I phoned, but there’s no answer.” Lightning tugged his leather jacket from the back of a chair. “I’m going over to her house. Something might have happened to her.”

Dewey watched the Englishman rush off, and wondered if he should warn him. But the look in Lightning’s eyes said he wouldn’t listen. Twenty years ago, Dewey had booked Lori on all the big TV shows in New York. The exposure was set to make her the female Elvis.

But she left him standing at Memphis airport with his bags and two plane tickets,

like a jilted bridegroom.

Dewey loved Lori like a daughter. He’d do anything for her, including help Lightning give her a second chance at fame. But he knew why she turned her back on music the first time. And that reason was still around.

Lightning swung his hired Chevrolet into a leafy suburban street, remembering to drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, and making allowances for the wide swing of the car’s enormous bonnet.

He enjoyed the effortless power steering and icy air-conditioning – an unheard of luxury in England. Especially in his car, a turquoise and cream Ford Consul from the 1950s.

Lightning loved everything about America and always had. As he cruised slowly passed neat detached timber frame houses, it was like being in a movie.

How wonderful it would be to live in a street like this. Especially with Lauren.

Letting her out of his arms at Heathrow Airport was the hardest thing he’d ever done, and having her snap at him on the phone hurt like nothing before.

He thought he’d talked her around and that they were back on track. If anything had happened to her... Lightning tensed as he spotted her house number on a mailbox. He pulled over, his mouth dry.

There was no car on her drive, but the front door was open. A big guy sat on the step in flared jeans and a Black Sabbath t-shirt, a can in his hand.

The guy stared with suspicion and hostility at Lightning’s car.

Lightning stepped out into the stifling heat.

Thanks for seeing me, Martha,” said Lauren. “I told Jack I was coming over, and didn’t want it to be a total lie.”

“Oh, honey child.” Martha led her friend to the back porch where a pitcher of iced tea waited beneath a humming ceiling fan.

“I know you want to do right by Jack,” Martha drawled as they sat on colonialstyle furniture. “But you can’t go on walking on eggshells. You deserve to be more than a maid.”

“It’s not his fault he’s the way he is,” Lauren said weakly. “It’s not your fault, either.” Martha pursed her lips, conscious that their friendship had boundaries it was dangerous to cross, but knowing a true friend had to sometimes trespass.

Until recently, she hadn’t known how bad Jack could be. Now she’d seen for herself, she was worried.

“Lauren, you’ve spent twenty years doing what you think’s right,” Martha said. “There has to come a time when you choose what’s right for you.”

“Then there’s Lightning and his plans...” Lauren caught sight of her wristwatch.

“Oh, Martha, I’m so sorry. I really do have to run!”

“That’s okay, hon.” Martha followed her through the house to the front door. “Just remember you can only do what other people want you to do for so long. In the end you have to be kind to yourself.”

“You’re right, Martha.” Lauren hugged her friend and kissed her cheek. “Thank you so much for being there.”

Lauren fished in her purse for her car key as she hurried down Martha’s path. Her Oldsmobile was parked at the kerb and she barely glanced at a silver Chevrolet parked behind it.

Until the door opened and out stepped Lightning. “Lori!” “Lightning!” It was the first time she’d seen him since London. He looked as gorgeous as ever. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. But since she’d been back, she’d treated him so badly.

Lightning wasn’t wearing his usual easy grin. He looked kind of serious.

Holding back, Lauren fingered the sharp wing of the Chevy and gazed nervously at him across the expanse of hood that separated them.

“I’m sorry I’m so late!” she blurted. “I was on my way to the studio, now. Really I was.”

“There’s no rush,” Lightning said gently. “Dewey’s cutting tracks with the band. Is there anywhere we can go to talk? In private?”

The Chevy had a bench seat wide enough for three. Lauren was conscious that she was almost hugging the door, leaving a yard of unoccupied leather between them.

It was crazy. In London they’d been so close. She’d missed him ever since.

But although he seemed genial, he’d made no move to kiss her. And if he didn’t, she wasn’t going to embarrass herself.

Her heart pounding, she stared ahead as he drove. Was that why he wanted to talk? she wondered: to tell her London had been a mistake; that they should forget it happened and keep their relationship strictly business?

That was the right thing to do, of course. In fact, it was the only thing to do.

She didn’t think their time together was a mistake, and she’d never regret it.

But that was in England and that whole tour felt like a dream. This was Memphis, where she was 40 years old with a job, bills and a mortgage.

And Jack.

Lauren directed Lightning to a diner on a road out of town. It was mid-evening and the place was empty. They took a corner booth and asked the waitress for

“You can’t walk on EGGSHELLS. You DESERVE to be more than a MAID”

coffee and pancakes. She needed something sweet to calm her nerves. “I met Jack,” said Lightning. Lauren stared at him, waiting for a reaction.

Lightning smiled. “He’s a nice kid. How come you never talk about him?”

Lauren slumped against the red vinyl upholstery and plucked a napkin from the chrome dispenser on the table. She’d have to stop wearing mascara.

But the water seeping from her eyes felt like a relief.

“Jack has a condition,” she said softly. “He holds down a simple job in a warehouse. His friends take him to baseball games and watch out for him. But he’ll never have a

“How did JACK COPE while you were in England?” LIGHTNING ASKED

mental age of more than twelve, and if something threatens his routine he’s like a 250-pound two-year-old. There’s no off switch.”

Lightning passed her another napkin. She dabbed her eyes and twisted the paper in her fingers.

“He’s going on twenty-one and my friend Martha says it’s time he moved into some kind of hostel where he can live with support. She’s probably right, but he needs me, Lightning. He needs the reassurance I’m around.”

“You’d still be around,” Lightning said gently.

“I feel so guilty,” Lauren went on. “Especially since I divorced his father six years ago. I waited until I thought Jack would be old enough to take it, but it hit him hard. His dad’s in Houston, drinks like he always did, and never sees him.”

“How did Jack cope while you were in England?” Lightning asked. Lauren shrugged. “I managed to afford some respite carers to come in and look after him. Martha helped a lot. But it’s not just for Jack’s sake I keep him home. I guess I’m afraid to be without him. He’s all I’ve got.” Lightning slid his hand across the table and put it over hers. “You’ve got me,” he promised. Lauren turned her hand over and embraced his, tightly. The contact made her feel properly safe for the first time in twenty years. But even as she clung to him she felt like a fake. “Lightning, there’s something I have to confess...” “You don’t want to do another tour,” he answered. “I know. And it’s okay.” “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I loved every minute I was in England. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for giving me the chance to be Lori James again. But...” “But living in hotels and vans isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, is it?” Lightning chuckled. “To tell you the truth, I’m getting to the age where I’d rather stay in an office and do deals on the phone. I wouldn’t have made that road trip with anyone except you.”

“It’s funny,” Lauren said. “I spent the last twenty years wondering what would have happened if I’d stayed in the music business. I always felt I’d missed out on so much.

“You gave me a chance to see what I was missing – and once I got it out of my system, I realised that wasn’t really me at all, even when I was eighteen or twenty.

“I loved to sing, but all I really dreamed of was a little house in the suburbs, an ordinary job and an ordinary family.”

She sighed. “Shame I picked the wrong man and messed that path up, too.”

Lightning squeezed her hand and said in a dry voice, “Maybe I could give you a second chance at that life, too.”

Lauren met his eyes, barely daring to believe what she was hearing. “I’m not Lori,” she said cautiously. “I know that Lauren, and from the moment I met you I’ve loved you for who you are, not who you used to be.”

Suddenly bursting with his old enthusiasm, he said, “Listen. Dewey wants to get back in the business. I could set up a record company with him, recording here in Memphis and exporting records back to England.

“It would be an ordinary nine-to-five job. You wouldn’t have to sing or tour and I’d be home each evening, just like normal people!” Lauren bit her lip, holding back. “It would mean taking on Jack,” she warned. “Even if he doesn’t live with me, he’ll always be my son.”

“I told you, he’s a nice kid,” Lightning grinned. “I think he even likes me! Maybe he’d like to have a new dad.”

Lauren suddenly couldn’t speak. There were no words to express the love she felt for Lightning.

For a long moment, she gazed at him, smiling through watery eyes.

Then she glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Oh my gosh!” She leapt up. “We’ve got to get to the studio. Dewey will kill me!”

“You still want to record...?” Lightning grinned as he stood.

“Are you kidding me? One more record for the English teddy bears won’t kill me. Especially as you’ve come all this way.”

“I didn’t only come to make the record. I also brought you this.”

From his jacket pocket, he took a small black jar with a yellow lid.

“Marmite?” she exclaimed, incredulously.

“I know you miss British grub,” he grinned.

Lauren laughed helplessly, letting out all her pent up relief and love.

“Oh, and this, in case you felt the way I hoped you would.”

From his other pocket he took a red velvet box and snapped it open to show her a diamond ring.

“Oh, Lightning...” She slipped the ring on her finger.

“Looks like it belongs there,” he observed.

Lauren knew it did, and as she melted into his embrace and pressed her lips to his, one very little known singer suddenly felt like the Queen of Memphis.