Six
There must be some way out of here,
Said the joker to the thief,
There's too much confusion, I cant get no relief
© Bob Dylan: All along the Watchtower
"So take heed, take heed of the western wind,
Take heed of the stormy weather.
And yes, there's something you can send back to me,"
The sound of 'Boots of Spanish Leather' echoed through the night sleeper train. Angharad sighed as she finished checking her photography gear. None of it had been broken in the journey – much unlike Paris when most of it had broken. The guitars continued and she smiled.
She recognised the voice as Bob Dylan – she had to admit Bron's taste in music varied. Although her love for The Beatles reined her life, she had grown up with singers such as Melanie and The Rolling Stones as her lullabies.
Angharad paced down the corridor, to Bron's bedroom… or cabin?
Fuck it.
With a defiant toss of her hair, she flung open the door to find Bron, lounging on top of the bed singing along to the new song playing on her I-Pod player. Danny was sitting in the chair opposite her, staring in absolute amazement at her.
"Hello Miss Locke," Bron sat up and studied her best friend with a smile. Angy recognised the smile. She'd just finished an interview. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'
"Was about to tell you to turn this crap off." Angy gestured to the player. The song had changed to a deeper voice again. 'What's this then bucko?'
"This is The Doors!" Danny seemed horrified that Angy had no musical knowledge of this band. 'Some musical photographer you are.'
"Go suck cock," Angharad snapped. 'And there is a door and get out!'
Bron watched the Bolton man move off moodily. She sighed and blocked her ears as he slammed the door shut, although her wince was instant. Once reassured that he had gone she opened her eyes and looked at Angy. The tall blonde was casually listening to the music of The Doors, as it changed to 'Hello I Love you'.
"Why are you staring at me?" Angy turned to her. 'Ok I was a tiniest bit harsh.'
"Harsh isn't the word. Brutal is," Bron stood and stretched. 'What's the gossip then?'
"Meaning?"
"Is it true that Dougie and Gwen are shagging?" Bron's brutal honesty stood out a mile. Angy nodded. 'There's a tenner down the drain and Maggie Mae?'
"Charlotte?" Angharad laughed. The term 'Maggie Mae' referred to the infamous Liverpool song about a Lime Street prostitute – and Jo's nickname for Charlotte. 'She's with Harry… seems they've struck up quite a friendship.'
"How nice for them," Bron commented drily as she threw her notebook in her suitcase and made a motion for Angy to sit down. She did so. 'Well?? What do you think?'
"Well the band has got a recording studio in the Tour Train," Angy shrugged. 'Never heard of that before… mind you I've never heard of a tour train before.'
"It's impressive… now let's get pissed and wreck it," Bronwen joked.
Angharad laughed softly, before eying Bron solemnly. The spectacled teenager was fiddling with her specs – obviously considering if to put her sunglasses on. The two travelled together regularly, and it was a fact of life that they were like sisters. Angy the eldest and the sensible one, Bron the evil bugger and Gwen the baby – Charlotte was the spoilt brat.
"Look I'm going to do some typing up and emailing," Angy stood, and patted her friend on the shoulder. 'What are you going to do?'
"Probably ring Jane," Bron stretched again. 'By the way when we're in London I've booked a room for us?'
"Whereabouts? Not the NME digs again?"
"No don't be soft!" Bron smiled at her. 'Jane's house… it's empty while she's in Wales… mind you,' she scratched her chin. 'I found a rock star wandering around in there… oh you know him Angy… tall bloke…'
"Everyone's tall to you,"
"No really tall, had a nice arse…. Blue eyes no brown… I think yes… no…." She floundered in consideration. 'Oh you do know him!'
"I really don't,"
"Sings with that band…."
"REALLY helpful… The Beatles?"
"No, handsome chap, you should know you sha-"
"Leni! Leni Hopkins… he was in that Punk Band…. The Defunct was it?"
"That's the one," Bron flopped onto the bed with a smile. 'You really should stick to one lad Angharad… you know fall in love…'
"Like you?" Angharad teased. Bron was one of those people who believed in free love – yet remained single. In her opinion she wasn't destined for children, despite the rapport she had with them.
"I'm too busy for love," Bron assured her like usual. 'Go see G by the way… this is the first time she's been away from home without her Mam or Dad… and for a long time too. She's not used to it.'
This unusual burst of affection surprised Angharad whom was used to seeing Bron's usual infuriating attitude of being systematically cutting (something when she wanted to could be childish and horrible) and mischievous. 'Very nice –'
"Don't tell her." Bron smiled, before settling back on the bed. 'Close the door on your way out, and Angy I'll lend you The Doors later…'
"Ta Bron."
Angy moved off, with a smile, down the corridor to Gwen's bedroom. Gwen was sitting writing when Angy stood in the doorway.
"Hey Gwen," She called over. Gwen turned. 'Not feeling homesick are you?'
"What?" Gwen suddenly noted that Angy was looking at her writing. 'Oh this? No I'm just sketching –' she held up a sketch.
The sketch was that of Angharad grinning from behind an old fashioned camera, the ones you had to twist the lens to get it to focus. She looked so journalistic in that shot. Sketched Gwen was standing just off-centre of the paper – smiling as she did a 'thumbs up' pose. Charlotte's sketch was reflected off of a 'mirror' she was presumably doing her makeup in. Above in red were the words:
'THE ENEMY'
"I'm just starting Bron, I'm going to sprawl her across the writing," Gwen said, putting the notebook down.
"Well she's lazing in there," Angharad jerked a thumb in the general direction of Bronwen's room. 'Listening to some music, you could sketch her at the moment without her noticing.' She looked at the Sketch calmly. 'When did you become so good at art?'
"Since before you started going away on tours with bands," Gwen said affably, although Angy knew it was a slight dig on Gwen's part.
Angharad and Gwen had met whilst in Primary School. Angy had walked up to her on the playground and asked if they could play together. They'd been together since that moment. They'd been in the same form in school and college – and it was Charlotte and Bron's favourite joke that Angy couldn't escape her. And despite Angy's complaints about it, she really didn't want to separate. No matter how tempting.
Yet the two friends didn't have time truly to be friendly in some parts of life nowadays. Angy, after all, had a job to conduct and to do well, and while hers consisted of constant travel, Gwen had to stay home like Charlotte. Yet over the short periods they were together – they were friends, although both acknowledged they were drifting.
It wasn't until they'd gone to Paris, Angy had realised how far they'd drifted apart. Gwen wasn't used to slumming it in digs and squats. Bron lived her life for the adventure – whilst Angy managed it, imagining the plumy rewards at the end. But Gwen hated it. She'd argued every day with everyone – even the band. A flourishing relationship with the band's bassist on Angy's part had been ruined because of her defence of Gwen…. Something HAD to give.
"Look I'm sorry alright," Angy admitted. 'I know me and you haven't had time to spend together, but it's because I've got a different job to you.' Gwen didn't speak for a few moments. 'Gwen…'
"It's frustrating alright?" Gwen turned to her. 'I'm a journo on that magazine too – people respect me. I write my advice and people listen to it. But it doesn't get me out of trouble… neither does it darling Lucy Hazlot…' Charlotte's identity. 'But mention the great team which is Angie McDuff and Kellie Sixties and POW! The world turns.'
"CAN I HELP THAT?!" Angharad shouted, her temper finally wearing thin. 'I didn't ask for this position! I was thrust into the limelight!'
This was true. Angy had been thrust into the eyes of the ever watchful Jo completely by accident. Bron, already a journalist on the magazine, had grown argumentative with her old photographer – and requested Angy.
The legends that were Angie McDuff and Kellie Sixties had been kindled that day.
"Yes, you could cry halt!"
"Why should I?" Angharad bit out. 'I LIKE what I do. I like being this underground photojournalist. I like the fact people look at my work and think 'Wow'."
"See you've gotten bigheaded!"
"No! I like the work I do, it's just you can't take the fact that me and Bron have been working together and I haven't been able to focus on our relationship!" Angy bit out correctly. 'I know it used to be the threesome – me you and Bron and maybe Charlotte… but times change. Me and Bron have gone to a totally new spectrum now. I can't be all 'Hey Gwen let's do this!' I'd love to but I can't. I've grown up the tiniest little bit more than you… and it's just something that can't be changed.'
"Yeah well," Gwen returned to sketching. 'It's just annoying.'
"GWEN DAVIES!" The raised voice alerted Gwen to the fact she was treading thin ice. 'I am not choosing her over you. For Gods sake Gwen, we're best friends! I know everything about you and you know all my secrets – and Bron's for that matter!'
Gwen bit her lip, suddenly realising her inaccuracy of feelings. She realised that it was her who allowed things to drift. By ignoring little things Angy had told her and not paying attention to these little laughs they shared – or listening to the full extent of their stories… they were tearing each other apart
"Angy I…"
There was a gentle tap at the door, and Gwen sighed heavily. There was no time for the wicked or sinners. 'Come on in.'
Bronwen entered her face red and a small smile on her face.
"Hey you –" She stopped on seeing the twos expressions. 'Not interrupting any of your affairs, am I?'
Angharad sensing the double-entrée in those words chuckled. 'Oh aye my friend what do you want?'
Bron pulled a face at Angy before flopping onto Gwen's bed – not even bothering to kick off her boots. Gwen glared at her, whilst Bron simply continued to search in her pocket.
"Found this note in my journal," Bron merely tossed a crumpled piece of work onto the desk in front of Gwen. 'It's Jane's handwriting.'
Gwen picked it up before reading aloud:
"Hi Ladies, Jane here. When you become a music journalist or just travel with a band whether you're a groupie or a roadie you follow a set of rules. These are the ones for music journalists ladies... Once all that's done your all set to become:
They're a sort of know-how:
1. Know that when a scandal occurs or is leaked it'll be your fault
let yourself believe that a band loves or are friends with you... they need you to write nice reviews
fall in love with a musician
**
"What's that all about?" Angy asked, frowning. 'Jane never struck me as someone to give advice.'
"Well she does – normally it's quite good… but falling in love with one of those arses?" Bron snorted through her nose. 'No thanks.'
"But too late for Madame here, so what's he like in the sack?" Angharad teased.
Gwen went scarlet as the two girls laughed with her… after all sometimes even friendship although threatened survived.
