Chapter Two

The cruise was an around the world affair, and was successful, on a professional basis. And professional we were. We were making good money from our shows and the cash injection of having a top ten record was enough to let us splash out a bit. We now had a manager, Jerry, another friend of Candice’s father. We had our own collection of good equipment, me with at least six guitars.

Unfortunately, the cruise highlighted the differences between us. By that time, we were playing the music that was known as ‘glam rock’. The girls were truly vamps out front, I had graduated to frilly pink outfits and had gained a collection of rings. My dad laughed every time he saw me but never complained when I paid for something he wanted. Steve had remained much like he started, having a stage persona wasn’t too important for a drummer in those days, seeing how hard he worked. Quentin had insisted that he wasn’t cut out to look like a poof and had his own collection of snappy suits. He was, I think, trying to emulate Brian Ferry.

We were booked for the whole four months of the cruise, playing every few nights. The audience changed with every port, so we didn’t get on their nerves. It was us that got on each other’s nerves, being in constant proximity. Us guys were in a three-berth cabin, and the girls shared a cabin. They seemed more than happy with that. They went ashore everywhere they could and spent freely. I often went with them, and we became a happy trio, me not being a problem for them.

It was Steve and Quentin who became the problems. Now knowing that the girls had no use for them, they started getting overfriendly with female passengers, to the point where they were warned by the captain. They were also drinking too much, and it all came to a head two months into the cruise. They were caught, humping teenage passengers in adjoining lifeboats. It was the setting the lifeboats slightly rocking on a calm night that was their downfall.

Before the captain gave his final decision, he called the three of us into his cabin and laid it all out. The guys had gone too far and had put the shipping line at risk. It would only take an unwanted baby, or an unwanted disease, and there would be hell to pay. We had all signed contracts with the shipping line and had not realised that, as we did that, we were considered crew for the duration and subject to the captains’ orders.

He told us that if he kicked the guys off the ship, there would be a couple of girls in the ships’ band who would be happy to stand in for the rest of the cruise. Our gigs would be pared back a bit so we would get an easier time if we agreed. What could we do but agree. The guys were told to pack their bags and were flown home from Madras escorted to the airport by a couple of burly seamen.

We let Jerry know the details and he said that he would hold off getting us bookings until we had worked out a new line-up. That happened over the next month, not something we could have expected. The two girls who turned up to help had been to almost every show we had done and knew our stuff inside-out. They had their own sparkly outfits, fitted right in after a couple of sessions, and the passengers hardly knew the difference.

That time was when another change occurred. I could tell that I stood out like the proverbial dogs, there on stage, even with my frills. At Mombasa, I went ashore with Anne and Megan, our two new arrivals, and we shopped for kaftans. All three of us bought three outfits, in different colours, so we could mix and match. With my usual long hair styled in the ships’ salon, it didn’t feel much different from my usual stage gear, just a bit breezier between the legs. The pictures that I saw on the notice board showed a five-piece girl band, not a single cane now showing in the Candicanes.

That last leg of the voyage was a stand-out, for me. I now was alone in the cabin and could stretch out. All five of us would get together when Anne and Megan weren’t on duty, and we talked about other songs we could play, now we were a girl centric band. We added some that the other guys hadn’t been happy with and changed some of the dynamics. Megan was a good singer, so we altered the stage line-up, with her and Nicola either side of Candice, and me next to Anne on the drums. While I had done some of the singing in the previous line-up, I now stepped back and just played the guitar.

As we made our way up the west coast of Africa and home, we developed a new style, less ‘glam rock’ and more ‘glamour rock’. While the three of us had our kaftans, the other two went with longer dresses. At Cape Town we all went ashore and bought two outfits each, both shorter dresses. We then went and bought shoes to match.

In the ships’ salon I was instructed to remain still as my body hair, what little there was, was removed. My hair was made into a much more feminine look and my nails attended to. In the ships’ lingerie shop I was helped to buy stockings and garter belts, along with bras and fillers. Our last weeks was us as an all-girl band, nobody could say otherwise.

Before the shows Candice would come into my cabin and help me dress and then would make me up. We all wore long earrings, lots of make-up, and the dresses were very sparkly and risqué. For me, going back to my male look became a chore, so I generally wore one of my kaftans in between shows. After our last show, the captain invited us to his dinner table, and congratulated us for a job well done. The two girls from the crew still had another voyage they were contracted for, a six-week cruise of the Mediterranean. Before we arrived back in England, the five of us sat down for a serious discussion, one that would eventually create the person I am today.

When Candice, Nicola and I disembarked, me back in my guy gear, we had agreed that Anne and Megan would join us in the Autumn and that we would relaunch the band as an all-girl line-up. I had to go along with it, as I was having fun, enjoyed their companionship, and had become seriously interested in the music we could play. We also agreed that Candicanes was no longer correct. We would now be called Glitterbugs. We would be glittering all the way.

At Southampton, Jerry met us and got Anne and Megans’ signatures on contracts. He was brought up to speed on what we had decided, and he told us that he knew a songwriter who specialised in songs for women. He also showed us a clipping from a recent newspaper.

It was a letter to the music editor, sent by a fan who had been on the last part of the voyage. It read that the writer had seen the Candicanes in the UK before, but was amazed to now see them, on the cruise, as an all-girl group, with only Candice and Nicola from the original band, but sounding better than he remembered.

I had to smile when he said that the three new girls were as good, if not better, than the three guys they had replaced. There was a picture of us, in the kaftan era. Jerry told us that he had been contacted by a couple of tour organisers who wanted us to tour the new band in the Spring of next year. He wanted to know what we would be called, and what my name would be on the advertising. I chose to be Harriette Arthur.

Jerry had come in a minibus and the three of us loaded our bags and guitars. The organ, drums and amps had all been supplied from the ships’ store. We hugged our two new friends, wished them a good trip, and they waved us off before going back on board.

Back in the old town, it seemed as if we’d never been away. I was dropped off at my place with a hug and a kiss from both girls. They were more than just a peck on the cheek, and I started to wonder what they were cooking up now. Dad gave me a hug. Now, that was out of the box. He professed at being lonely while I had been away. Perhaps he had missed my cooking! I put my things away, wondering what Dad would say if he saw my dresses and kaftans, let alone my collection of shoes and naughty undies.

I wound down for a few days and then took Dad for a meal at the pub. When the first act came on, it was the old opener, now much better after recovering from his close encounter with the bus. The next act took my breath away. Steve and Quentin were there, on stage, along with a couple of other guys. They were all dressed in punk gear and were doing Sex Pistols and Clash covers. They weren’t bad, as far as that went, but they weren’t good. After they had finished, they just packed up and left. The manager came over to our table and asked me if I could fill in for a while. He had a spare guitar in his office.

I wasn’t sure but Dad told me that he had never heard me and that he wanted to know what everyone was talking about. So, I went and got the guitar, tuned it, and went up on the stage. The manager stood up and called out.

“Let’s give a warm welcome back to Hitman Harry. He’s been in the charts and just spent four months on a cruise with those lovely girls, Candi and Nicola, the lucky sod!”

It was an effort of will playing rhythm and singing, after just playing lead for so long, but I started to fit in lead notes into the backing as I sung a lot of the old playlist. At the end of my set, the late band were waiting to set up, so I bowed and thanked the audience, who were enthusiastically applauding. Back at the table, Dad gave me a hug and told me that he was prouder of me, now he could see how good I was. That, I could take every day.

The next day, Jerry rang to tell me that we had an appointment with the songwriter and that Nicola would pick me up after lunch. She arrived, with Candice in the car, and we went off to a place that she had been told how to find. It was a good job she remembered, or else we would have been traipsing all over the countryside. The trick was to take a certain trackway, off a very minor road, and find a gap in the hedges. The vista as we entered the driveway was not all that encouraging.

The thatched cottage was nestled in a flower garden and looked like a picture on a biscuit tin. The lady who welcomed us when we stopped looked like someone’s grannie. I wasn’t getting the cutting-edge, top-of-the-pops vibe that I expected. When the woman introduced herself, it all stood on its head. Joan was someone that my mother had loved listening to, and I expect that if I looked, I would find a few of her old albums at home. She sat us at her dining table and gave us tea and biscuits as we talked.

We talked about our hopes and dreams for a while. Finally, she put on a serious face.

“Jerry told me that you were worth talking to. I wasn’t sure about you, because so many groups want to sing about death and disaster. I can see that you two girls are passionate about the type of music you want to play, and I think that there could be a niche in the market for ‘glamour rock’ which may lead to a hit, or two.”

She then turned her attention on me.

“Harry, or should I say Harri with an ‘I’. I was most concerned about you. Jerry sent me a couple of pictures of you in your new persona. You looked all right, but would you cut it with being a girl in an all-girl band? You know that to fool the punters, you will have to be Harriette all the time, until you can buy a little hide-away like this place, where you can be yourself. One of the things you are going to have to learn is how to read music, the others all have that ability, or so I’ve been told.”

I agreed that it may help and asked how we would work through the two different levels of training.

“That’s easy. I live her, alone, and now have plenty of time on my hands. To be honest, I’m getting a bit bored. If you come back in a couple of days, I will have organised the spare room for you. Bring all your female things. I will teach you to be a girl who reads music. The best way to be proficient is to learn the piano. What do you say?”

I agreed. Well, you don’t get to live with a pop star often, and she appeared very nice. The girls promised to get me more usual clothing for daytime wear, so that’s what we did on the way home. It cost me a bit, but I was laden with a lot of bags when I was dropped off to tell Dad that I would be away for a while on a course to study music. He took it with a sigh. That evening I told him about the plan for me to live as a woman while the band was going, to keep up the all-girl fiction. He took that with a sigh and a laugh.

I then told him who was going to teach me music and we cranked up the old radiogram and played some of the songs my mother had loved. That brought tears to his eyes.

“I’m sorry about this, Harry, but your mother and I had these as the soundtrack to our best years. I will miss you, again, but I suppose that I must be grateful for the times we spend together. So many of my old friends are totally alone, their children have gone off to all corners of the globe.”

The next day, I put on my feminine underwear, a colourful top, and slim-leg jeans I had bought on the way home. Adding some two-inch boots and a bit of make-up I had learned on the cruise; I went downstairs to see if I could give my father a heart attack.

I almost did just that, the blood drained from his face, and he had to sit down. I got him a glass of water and sat beside him until he was back to normal.

“By God, Harri, you’re the spitting image of your mother at the time I met her. When you walked int the room I thought I had died, and she was coming to take me home with her. It’s uncanny, but I now know why you and I have a bond that isn’t just through liking the same sports. You’ve always been a gentle and well-behaved boy, so much more like a daughter than a son. I just never really saw it before.”

I hugged him and thanked him for being such a wonderful father. We then went out for lunch, not at the usual pub, but a restaurant a bit further away. The waiter called me dear and asked Dad if I was his daughter. He replied that I was the best daughter in the world. I tried to speak quietly, and we had a lovely lunch, a few drinks and took our time, talking about the time to come.

When Nicola picked me up, I had two cases of my new outfits and a range of the other things that I was trying to come to grips with. We both hugged Dad and I gave him a kiss on the cheek and promised him that I would keep in touch. On the way, we stopped at a salon that Nicola had pre-booked, and I had a full manicure and pedicure, the fingernails just long enough to change the look of my hands, but not too long to upset my playing.

When we arrived at our destination, we unloaded my things and Joan stood at the door while Nicola said she would be back in a couple of months. She gave me a solid kiss on my lips and then got back in the car and left.

We watched her go and I picked up my bags. I turned and Joan was looking at me with an odd expression on her face.

“That was some kiss, Harriette, are you two a couple?”

“No,” I laughed, “She and Candi are a couple. They only kiss me for two reasons. The first is when they want me to go along with some scheme of theirs, the second is when they have me moving in the direction that they have planned.”

“You truly are a cynic, young lady. However, since you were here, I’ve listened to everything that you have recorded and watched that video several times. I will tell you, here and now, that they need you more than you need them. You could have made a career for yourself as a solo singer, but chose to help a couple of talented, but spoilt, girls. Now, let me show you your room and then I’ll show you where we will be working. After that, we will both change, and I’ll take you to my local for dinner.”

My room was a light, airy, and totally pink and girly. There was a teddy bear sitting in front of the pillows and I had a sudden desire to hug it. A desire I held back for when I was alone. She helped me unpack and put my things away, draping one of my new nighties on the pillow. She also laid a blouse and skirt on the bed. We then went to where I would be spending a lot of my time. I was staggered that the back of the cottage had been modernised and there was a music room, complete with a baby grand. I had brought my old acoustic so took it out of its case and rested it on a guitar stand.

“We’ll start tomorrow, after breakfast. Before you start asking questions, I’m doing this for you and Jerry. His father was my manager and I’m his godmother. I’ve been promised proper recognition and payment should anything I write becomes a hit. Now, let’s see if you have any skills.”

She sat at the piano. There was a page of music on the stand, about a minute’s worth, I thought. She told me to watch her fingers on the first playing, then the music on the second. I was right about the timing. I did as she instructed and then was sat at the piano. As a person who plays by ear, and having so much time on the guitar, I was well versed in scales, keys, and chords. I found that the finger positions were logical.

She didn’t push and waited until I played each key, slowly, savouring the note and trying to place it on a fretboard. I then constructed a few chords, with some mistakes, and then played the piece from memory. She got me to repeat it a couple of times. Then she put a light board resting on each end of the keyboard, so I couldn’t see the keys. I was then told to play the piece from the sheet of music. When I got it right, she put another sheet over it. I could see that it was the same notes, but in a totally different pattern. It took me a few goes before I was able to play this new piece to her satisfaction.

She made no comment, other than a thoughtful “mmmmm”. I was told that it was time to get ready to go out for dinner, even though I could see a clock that showed it to be only just after three. She said that I should shower, make sure I was shaved all over, put on my sexiest underwear and make up as if I was going on a date. Not so far as stage looks, but as if I was trying to attract a guy. I supposed that it was all part of my training.

I went back to my room, hugged Teddy, stripped off and went into the shower. I saw a note, in a waterproof bag, with all the things I should do. I’d never shampooed and conditioned three times in the one shower before, but it seemed to make a difference. The body wash had scents that almost gave me a hard-on, but I thought about the piano playing and it went away.

By the time I was dried, powdered, and dressed, it was after four. Another hour passed before I was happy with how my hair looked, and how my fourth attempt at make-up went. Putting on a new necklace, some bangles, and a pair of hoops in my ears was the straw that finally broke the camels’ back. When I left my room, I had turned a corner. I wasn’t just a guy trying to look like a girl, I felt like a girl, trying to look her best.

Joan was dressed nicely and waiting patiently for me.

“Very nice, Harriette. You’re going to break some guys’ hearts when you get it into your head.”

“I nearly gave my dad a heart attack the other day. He swears that I look like my mum at a similar age. It took a while to calm him down, and I was only in jeans then.”

“Now, lesson number one. What have you forgotten?”

I had to stop and work through everything. Bra – check, fillers – check, panties, and stockings - check, skirt, and blouse - check. She waited for a few moments.

“Harriette, you are not going on the stage, you’re going out into the big wild world for several hours. What is it that every girl needs while she’s out and about?”

“A handbag?”

“Correct. I didn’t see one in your purchases, so we’ll go and see if I’ve got one that will go with that outfit. Then we will have to fill it with all the things you need to carry. Don’t worry, I thought we may get to this point and bought a bunch of new things for you.”

We found one, from her big collection, and I was shown everything that went in, with accompanying explanation. I had no idea why I was carrying tampons and condoms. She locked up and we got into her Jaguar. She was a good driver and obviously loved driving her car. We went somewhere that was not quite local but had a big dining area and a stage. She had been gauging my performance on the way – the way I sat, the way I talked.

She was known here, and we were welcomed like royalty. The manager showed us to our table, right in the middle of the room and asked Joan about me.

“This is Harriette Arthur, Jules, she is going to be the name on everyone’s lips this time next year.”

When we had placed our order, I looked around to see the other diners having sly peeks at us.

“Why here, Joan, and why in the middle of the room?”

“That’s simple, young Harriette. The manager puts me here every time I book. It allows him to advertise that I’m someone famous. Anyone under forty wouldn’t recognise me but I’m certain they’re all wondering who you are. Jules will be moving around the room, and, if asked, will tell them your name. Your first question has an even simpler answer, tonight is open-mic night and I put your guitar in the car before we left. Your task, tonight, is to go up there, on the stage, and show us how it’s done, but now with a feminine look and a voice that goes with it. I was going to do this in the fourth week, but you’re so good now, I wanted to see if you’ve got enough courage. It’s something you will need when you become a famous female singer.”

“You are so wicked,” I grinned.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter 3

The meal was magnificent. If this was what being famous was all about, I would have to keep track of my weight. The waiters were attentive, and the wine was enough to take the edge off my worries about later. Joan told me that dessert would be after the show, to allow me to make space for it. We went out to the car, and I picked up the guitar case, then we went to freshen up.

I followed her into the ladies’ toilets before stopping dead. Me – in a woman’s loo? She saw my panic and took me by the hand and whispered, “First step towards the new you.”

The meal was interesting on another plane. Joan would wait until we were between courses to talk. In between the soup and entrée, I was congratulated on my piano playing.

“I was impressed Harriette. You’re natural. It could be all that guitar playing but I believe you may have kept some earlier piano quiet.”

“I did spend some time playing at a pub with a piano, and the pianist showed me some simple tunes and explained the techniques, but I never took it seriously. You can’t lug a piano into a shopping arcade to busk, can you?”

Between the entrée and main course, my success as a girl was critiqued.

“Harriette, you are very good at passing as a girl, but it’s all an act for you. By the time we’ve finished, you’ll be a natural girl, no cracks with Harry showing through. Tonight, is a case in point. You must do well enough that all these diners leave thinking that they’ve heard a girl songstress of note. Any less will make you feel bad. Use your husky voice and don’t push any high notes and you’ll nail it.”

When the main course was over and the open mic started, the manager acted as compere. First up was a comedian who was good, and he got lots of laughs. Next was guy who did comedy from a different angle. He played the fool and regaled us with times he made total stuff-ups, getting as many laughs as the first guy. After that, the manager looked at me and I got up and walked over to where I had left the guitar. Getting it out of its case and strapping it on seemed like second nature. On the way to the mic, I whispered that I would need a second mic on stage later, and his eyes went very wide.

I sang some of the old songs from my early days busking, using a quieter voice. There was nothing flashy, nothing loud, just gentle ballads. The diners applauded after every song and the staff tried to stay in the room longer than usual. After about half-an-hour I started playing the intro of one of Joan’s hits and waggled my eyes at her. The manager brought out the microphone and a waiter went to help her stand. I was getting into the first verse when she arrived at the microphone and took her time to adjust it, joining me in a duet with the second verse.

I know I was acoustic, but the atmosphere in the room was electric. These were people who knew her songs but had never seen her. She had stopped recording in the late fifties. When the applause erupted, she asked me if I knew any more, and we went for another twenty minutes regaling the crowd with some of her greatest hits. Finally, I announced that I needed my dessert, and we left the stage to a standing ovation.

When the manger brought our desserts, he told us that the meal was on the house and that tonight he had one of his dreams answered, to see and hear one of the stars of his youth.

“Ably assisted by a megastar of the future.”

I smiled at him, and we ate our dessert with lots of the other diners coming to our table, asking for autographs. They told me that I had a great future and told Joan that she was wonderful in the past and hadn’t lost any of it. When we were finished, we stood and went towards the door, applause breaking out behind us. I told Joan to acknowledge her fans, so we turned and gave them a wave before we went out to the car. She stayed quiet until we were back at the cottage with hot chocolates in front of us.

“And you told me I was wicked!”

‘Didn’t you enjoy singing, again?”

“Yes! Dammit. You toned all my songs down so I could reach the notes with my old voice. It was fun and I felt forty years younger. You came here to be taught how to read music and learn how to be a girl. Today you read a simple tune and played it on the piano, and then, tonight you held the room in the palm of your hand. You know that you’re exactly what Jules said you are, and it won’t take very long, believe me!”

The next few weeks flew by. I was Harri, full time, and was now able to play the piano, and then the guitar, from the written music. Joan making it more complicated as we went on. The number of times she had to call me out with a mannish gesture or words became less and less. At the same time, she started writing songs for us. I was able to help with more modern wording and we tried them out, she on the piano with me on the guitar. Three weeks after our duets on stage, Jules rang her and asked if she would be kind enough to grace his stage again.

This time, it was to be a show for charity, and he thought that she might bring in the audience as it would be a special experience for a lot of people. Of course, if I was still around, I would be very welcome. Joan relayed the invitation and I nodded. She accepted the invitation and asked if there could be a piano on stage.

Over the next week we worked up a set of her old hits and favourites, plus three of the new songs we had written. She called Jerry and asked him if he’d come and see how I was handling my training and gave him the time and place. On the Friday, we treated ourselves to a session at a salon she knew, and we made sure we didn’t mess our hair by sleeping in hairnets that night.

We were to go on at seven and were not surprised when Jerry arrived at the cottage with Candice and Nicola. I was told that the others were due back in the country in a few days and were happy to wave the ship goodbye. Jerry had been busy, and had organised a flat for them, near the rest of us, as well as near a studio he said we would use for practise and for recording. The girls had been busy, designing new stage outfits to accentuate the glitter theme. We had a long talk about the music for the future band and I showed them the dozen or so songs that had been written. Joan had insisted that I would get equal credit for these.

We all went off to the hotel at five, Joan and I in elegant dresses and lots of jewellery. Jerry had booked a table for three, and Joan and I had one for ourselves. We ate our dinner, again on the house, to the strains of a nice crooner with a three-piece accompaniment, one playing the baby grand on stage. After he went off, the stage was taken over by a well-known comedian, and then it was us.

The first few songs had Joan at the piano, me with my guitar. We did a few of her album songs, and then she stood at the mic while I took over the piano to do five of her hits. Then we swapped again, and I announced that we would now play a few songs that might be heard on the airwaves, next year. We then did another four songs that we had written for the band. To finish off, Joan stood beside me, and we did a duet of her two greatest hits and then bowed, leaving the stage to a thunderous applause.

The night was supposed to end with another well-known band, but they had cancelled at the last minute. Joan told the manager that he had most of a band here, tonight, if he could come up with a couple of amps. So, twenty minutes later, the three of us were up on stage, me with a borrowed electric, the girls with their own instruments, never going anywhere without them. We had conferred and decided to do some of the old songs from our playlist that we could do as a three-piece.

We finished off the nights’ entertainment with an hour set of mixed songs, some from our glory days, including the song from the video. We stood, side by side, across the stage and I sang as much as the others, sometimes we sang as a trio, and I thought it sounded good. It was good to be singing with the girls, again. I was the best dressed, for a change. Jerry and the girls were given cards to show, if they came back, to get free meals for a year. Joan and I were told that we had the same thank you but were well enough known not to need a card.

Jerry took the girls home and I went back to the cottage with Joan. It was as if I was going home with my mother, and suddenly realised that I hadn’t called my dad for a couple of weeks. When I mentioned that, Joan said that she would drive me down for a visit, if I rang him early in the morning to tell him to make sure he was ready to receive us.

Early next morning I rang home, waking Dad. He sounded a bit grumpy but brightened up when I told him we were coming down to see him, today, and take him out to a Sunday lunch. I told him to look smart because we would be. He didn’t ask who the ‘we’ were.

Joan and I dressed in sunny Sunday outfits, extremely girly, as she said that I was now at the right stage for it. She had decided that I was now the right shape, if assisted, and the right weight; and had also passed all the tests in how I carried myself, walking, talking and generally being a natural woman. On the way down she asked me about Dad, and I told her that he was a retired sales engineer, a widower, still fit and that we had a small collection of her albums.

When we arrived and as pulled up outside, I thought I saw the curtains twitch. I’m certain that he wondered who the two well-dressed ladies were in the Jaguar outside. We got out, locked the car and I fished into my bag to get the door key. I opened the door and called out to him that I was home. He stepped into the hall, and I gave him a hug.

“My God, Harri, don’t you look the lady. When you said you had to look like a girl for the band, I never expected you to be so beautiful, even more like your mother than before.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Dear. Now say hello to Joan, who has made this possible, and has become a dear friend.”
He did a double take as Joan moved up to him and gave him a hug.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Hunt, your daughter has been like a breath of fresh air for me over the past month. She has had me singing again, to an actual audience, twice now and I feel a few years younger. I won’t say how many.”

“It’s Justin. Can I call you Joan?”

Of course, Justin, I feel that I’m almost part of the family, the bond that Harriette and I have forged.”

After Joan and I had used the bathroom to freshen up, we left the house and Joan drove us to the coast. I had quickly claimed the back seat, so that Dad had no alternative but to sit in the front. After a slow start, Joan started asking him about his younger days and it didn’t take him long to become comfortable with her. I only spoke when I had to. When we got to the coast, we pulled up near one of the big hotels. Dad got out and quickly went to the other side to open the door for Joan. I was left to my own devices.

As we walked towards the entrance, we each took an arm, so that he was escorting two ladies. I did so because he was, after all, my dad. I saw that Joan had a smile on her face as she took his other arm. When we entered the hotel, there was a cry of “Mum!!” and a woman rushed to give Joan a hug.

“It’s been too long, Mum. You’ve been bottled up in that cottage since Dad died and I’ve missed seeing you out and about. If you came down in the Jaguar, it’s a wonder it lasted the distance, sitting in your driveway all that time.”

“I’ve been prised out of my shell by this young lady I’ve brought to see you, darling. She had me up on a stage and singing to a room full of people on the day after I started teaching her to read music. Last night we did a charity show at my local hotel. Now, Pauline, I want you to meet the very talented Harriette Hunt, and her father, Justin. This is my daughter, Pauline, my youngest. She owns this hotel where I hope she’s going to give us lunch.”

Pauline gave us both a welcoming hug and then led us through to a dining room that was almost full. After a quick word to her waitress, a table for four was set up and we were seated. As I looked around, I could see some interested looks in our direction. It looked like they held dinner dances as there was a small stage with a piano. Pauline sat with us, and the waitress brought us each a menu.

During the meal we learned more about the private Joan, the one who was a wife and mother of three. The oldest two were both boys, one now in the US, working as an attorney, the other in Japan where he had a restaurant. Pauline had married and it was her husband that had cooked our food. They had bought the hotel, literally “for a song” in the bad days for British seaside towns, the days of too cheap air trips to sunny foreign beaches.

Her husband came out of his kitchen to join us in a coffee. When he heard that Joan had recently sung in public, he joked that the stage was empty now. Well, what could we do but rub his nose in it. Joan stood and smiled.

“It seems that I’m now expected to sing for my supper. Come along, Harriette, let’s show this room what this old stager has in her tank!

There was a microphone on a stand and another over the piano. Oliver, Paulines’ husband, switched on the PA and we tested it for level. I sat at the piano and Joan went up to the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, some of you in this room may have heard me sing a long time ago. Today, Harriette and I will regale you with a show that we performed, last night, for a charity event.”

We repeated the show that we had perfected for last night. As I played, I looked around the room. Most of the diners were gazing at us in wonder. Dad was just beaming, no doubt at the fact that it was his child, on stage, singing along with the woman who provided the soundtrack of the best days of his marriage. I had the odd thought that I may have been conceived to the strains of Joan singing.

Oliver and Pauline sat in rapt attention, she with tears dripping off her chin but a big smile on her face. I wondered just how long it had been since she last heard her mother singing. Because we didn’t have my guitar, we didn’t stand side-by-side for the last bit but, as far as I was concerned, this was all about Joan giving her daughter a gift from the heart.

When we finished the last song and Joan gave a little bow, the diners applauded, and Pauline almost ran to hug her mother. I went back to the table and Dad almost crushed me in his arms. This was so wonderful, for me, I had tears in my own eyes. After that, we went to the private quarters and had a lovely couple of hours talking about the old days, Dad holding his own. I regaled them with a few stories from being on the road with Candicanes and the cruise.

When we made our excuses, saying that we had to go, Pauline whispered in my ear as she hugged me.

“Thank you for this, Harriette, I’ve never seen my mother so happy for years. I do remember her singing in the old days, but today was pure magic. Luckily, we have a camera focussed on the stage and the receptionist set it going as you went to sing. Now I will have something, on tape, that I can look at, some time, a long way into the future, that will bring joy to my heart. I hope that you come back with Mum, and often. Come down and stay if you want. By the way, how long has my mum known your dad, they appear very comfortable together?”

“Would you believe since mid-morning, today?”

She looked shocked and just murmured, “Oh boy, I think that there’s magic in the air.”

Before we got back to the house, we stopped and bought some fish and chips to take home. Dad fussed about and got out the best china to put it on. I had eaten many a meal with both he and Joan, but this was the oddest, with both together. I might as well go off to the lounge, the amount of speaking I needed to do. In the end, I told them to head for the lounge while I made a pot of tea. I knew we had Joans’ favourite in the cupboard.

When I opened the door to carry in the tray, they looked a little flustered, and Joans’ lipstick was mussed. Who would have thought? I poured them their tea and made the excuse that there were a few things I needed to get from my room, to take back to the cottage. I stayed out of their hair for an hour, and then knocked and asked Joan if she wanted to head back to the cottage, or should I make up a bed in the spare room?

She blushed and nodded, saying that we had better move. I took our things out to the car, including a small bag of things I had collected, for appearances. I waited in the car while she said cheerio to Dad. On the way she was very quiet for most of the trip, then gave a little giggle.

“Harriette, I told Justin that I’m going to make up a room for him and that he is welcome to come up and stay with us. He is a lovely man, and I can tell that he has been lonely since your mum died. Probably as lonely as I’ve been since my poor Albert passed away. I hope that, long into the future, you will be able to look back on thirty or forty years of a happy marriage. You’ve no idea how happy and contented one can be with a good partner. Perhaps Justin and I can be good friends, I think I would like that.”

I told her that he had always been the perfect father to me, and that he missed Mum a lot, even more so since he knew I was going to be living with her. I then said that it was quite likely that I was conceived to the strains of one of her albums, and she shrieked with laughter, and we weaved a bit, getting a honk from the guy behind us.

“No wonder we have a connection, Harriette, if I was in the room while you were being made.”

Back in the warmth of the cottage, sitting in our nighties and gowns with a cup of hot chocolate each, Joan became thoughtful.

“You know, since you have been here it’s been a magic time for me. I was fast getting to the point where I was looking forward to leaving this stage for the last time. Now, I just want to live longer, if I can, to feel the experiences that your future is going to generate. I wasn’t sad that none of my children followed me on the stage, they were always left to follow their own dreams. I saw Pauline crying as we sang, this afternoon, and I could see they were tears of joy. Justin didn’t know which of us he should be gazing at, I felt – I don’t know – wanted, again. It took him a little while to realise that it would be all right to kiss me, and it was wonderful when he did. Thank you for giving us space.”

“It’s all right, I could see the way things were going, and so could Pauline. I’m happy for you both. Now, do we make up another room, it would mean clearing a lot of things out, or will you just make room in your wardrobe for his things?”

It was lucky she didn’t have her drink in her hand when I said that, as she got into a giggling fit which turned to hiccups. I went to her and leaned over to hug her, rubbing her back until the hiccups faded.

“You, my girl, are as astute as you’re naughty. We’ll give him a call in the week and go and collect him. Leave the sleeping arrangements as a surprise. In the meantime, let’s rinse these cups and go to bed, we have hits to write while you’re here.”

“Yes, Mum,” I grinned.

Marianne Gregory © 2023

Chapter Four

On the Monday we worked together song writing. As we worked it became even more of a collaboration. We thought as one, me now being able to write the music score. We went back to the ones we had written already for guitar and piano and wrote out the scores for the rest of the band. I could hear the tunes in my mind, played by the five of us.

That was not new, just a lot clearer than before. It had always helped, when I busked, if I could imagine a band behind me. I hadn’t realised just how helpful that was. As we wrote, and tried out the songs, I started to realise that about a quarter of our output were likely good enough to get into the charts. I made note of these.

On Wednesday, we rang Dad and went down to pick him up on Thursday. Back at the cottage, Joan said she would show him around and I took his case into her room. I unpacked it and arranged his things in the places we had cleared, taking the empty case to the cupboard under the stairs. I stayed home, while Joan took him off to the hotel for dinner. I think that she wanted to show him off to Jules. I was in bed before they returned and overheard a muffled “What!!” and then it was quiet. Well, if they made any more noise, I was asleep.

I was up, early, and was preparing the breakfast when Dad wandered into the kitchen.

“Harri, sweetheart, last night I was abducted by a wicked witch and transported to heaven. I suppose you knew what she had planned, seeing that my clothes were already hanging in her room.”

“Dad, I’ve called her wicked as well, but, believe me, she has a heart of pure gold. I’m so happy for the two of you. You’ve both been lonely for far too long.”

I went and hugged him, planting a kiss on his stubble.

“Now, get some of this food into you and go and shave. We don’t do rough men here. Stay long enough and we might get you back into shape.”

He was eating when Joan came in, her black nightie showing clearly through her black gown. I gave her a wink as I put her morning cup of tea in front of her. She put her hand on my arm.
“Thank you for this, dear, in fact, thank you for a lot of things. I’ll tidy up, now you go and get yourself dressed and I’ll catch up with you at the piano. We’ve got that latest song to finish.”

Dad stayed with us for the last three weeks of my training. He sat in on some of our writing sessions, pottered about in the garden, and helped with the housework. He confided to me that it was wonderful to have a garden to look after, our own home being three feet of concrete in front and two square yards of weeds in the back. At the end of my designated training period, we had twenty or so new songs that I was happy with, including five that I thought would be hits.

Joan drove us back to my hometown, my bags in the boot, and me in the back seat with my guitar case. At the house, I unlocked the door and Dad carried my things in. I took it up to my room and promised myself that I would put it all away as soon as I could. In the meantime, Dad filled the empty case he had brought in the car and carried it out to put it in the boot. Joan was in the kitchen, making us a pot of tea to go with the scones we had brought with us. Sitting, in the kitchen, with the two of them, was something I would remember to this day. They were more than happy, they were radiant.

I stood at the front door, waving as they left. I was alone, in my house, while my father was going back to the cottage to live. When they were out of sight, I went upstairs to the master bedroom. On my mother’s old vanity, I found a note.

“Dear Harriette, if you’re reading this, I expect that you are thinking about sleeping here. Feel free to dump any of my things that I have left behind into your old room and move all your things here. I can’t describe how happy I am to now have such a wonderful and caring daughter. We didn’t tell you, but Joan and I are planning a quiet registry marriage, sometime over the next couple of months. You’ll be the first to know the where and when. Feel free to make any changes to the décor that you want, I will gift you the house once we get married. I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for bringing me and Joan together. By the way, you were right. Joan was on the record player the night you were made. Love you - Dad. PS, there’s a box on the top shelf of the wardrobe you should look at.”

With tears in my eyes, I opened the wardrobe and saw the box immediately. It was too large to be ignored. I pulled it down and put it on the bed. When I opened it, I found a wonderful wedding dress, with all the accessories. There was a jewellery box which took my breath away when I opened it. There, in all their glory, was my mothers’ collection. She had always looked good when she had somewhere to go, and I expect that Dad wasn’t going to hold back when he bought her gifts. After two months of intense girl training, I sat on the bed with the box on my lap and I cried. I cried for my mother in a way I couldn’t when I was Harold and let the bottled-up sorrow finally come to the fore.

As I sat there, sobbing, a lot of things fell into place in my mind. One was that I had my own home, including all the responsibility and costs that go with that. The second was that I would remain Harriette for as long as I could, even if it wasn’t needed for the band. The third was that I was going to have to learn to drive and get a car. The fourth was that I either needed to buy some paint and brushes, or damn well earn enough money to hire a professional.

Over the next couple of hours, I remade the bed, finding softer linen in a cupboard I hardly knew existed. I vacuumed and dusted and replaced anything of dads with my girl things. I left my old Harry stuff in my old room and loaded the wardrobe and drawers with my new collection, leaving plenty of room for new items, once I got out to shop. Last of all, I stripped off and took a shower. When I was dry, I dressed in the wedding underwear and put the dress on. It was a little loose in the bodice but fitted quite well.

I looked at myself in the big mirror and thought that it would be wonderful to wear at my own wedding. I closed my eyes to imagine the scene, but couldn’t, for the life of me, picture a man by my side. That’s when it struck me that, as Harriette, or even Harri on the cruise ship, I had no thought that dressing as a girl had anything to do with attracting a guy. Such thoughts were a long way from why I was doing this, originally, and still had no place in my future.

I took the dress off and hung it in the wardrobe, with a cover over it, to let the creases out. I then put on one of the kaftans, sat at the vanity and worked on my hair and face. I then called Jerry to let him know that I was home and ready to set to work. That done, it came as no surprise to have my doorbell sound, just after I had washed my tea things. It was the whole crowd.

Nicola exclaimed that I looked good enough to go out dancing, and, after I had told them the short story of why I was here, alone, that’s what we did. Nicola now had a bigger car, and it was easy for the five of us to fit in. We went to a dance hall in the next city, one we had played in, previously. It was odd. We didn’t have to explain ourselves to each other, and we had a good evening, sometimes dancing with guys, sometimes with each other. I found that I danced several times with Anne.

At their flat, I got out with Anne and Megan, my place being only a few minutes away. I said goodnight and Anne came up to me and kissed me, hard.

“Did you keep your bits, Harri, or have you had them removed?”

“All in place and going nowhere, Anne, although I’m not sure whether they’re still fit for purpose."

"Stay there while I get a bag and we can go and find out."

She dashed into the building as Megan gave me a goodnight kiss.

“Who’s going to be a lucky girl, then?” she whispered, and went to the door as Anne came out with a holdall in her hand. I had the distinct feeling that it was one she had “prepared earlier.”

I held her to me as we walked home. I opened the door, and we went up to my new bedroom. Taking our coats off, we kissed, properly. That night we christened my new bedroom in my new house, and soiled the sheets, messing up the new pillows because we hadn’t taken off our make-up. Believe it or not, that was the night I lost my virginity and woke up being able to imagine me in the wedding dress, with Anne beside me in her own.

Next morning, I was up first and was making breakfast when Anne came down and we nearly burned the bacon as we kissed. I put everything out on two plates, and we sat to eat. It wasn’t long before she looked hard at me and asked a question.

“You seem very happy, this morning. You can hardly chew for smiling.”

“Yes, my love, I’m just so happy to be sitting here with you and wondering how long I can keep you here.”

“As long as you keep loving me like you did last night, I’m going nowhere. I thought the smile may have been because you ended up in bed with the drummer.”

“Damn, foiled again. You can see my soul, you sweet girl.”

Over the course of the morning, we changed the bed, showered, and dressed. All the while we talked about what had been going on. I found out that there had been words when Candice had tried to be bossy and had been shouted at by both Anne and Megan. I thought that this may have been a first. The dynamic had shifted while I was away, and Anne thought it was for the better. Candice and Nicola were working harder to improve things, and my return wasn’t too soon. Anne was adamant that I was needed more than ever.

I asked her if Megan would be upset if she moved in with me.

“No way! She would be happy. We never shared cabins on board, and I never knew how much of a lazy sod she is. She would live in a pigsty, given the need, and it wouldn’t be much different to how she lives now. She’s committed to the band, though, hoping it would bring her enough money to employ a servant.”

“If the songs I have in my bag are anything to go by, she’ll be able to have a whole house full of servants.”

“Really, you think they’re that good. Let me see.”

I phoned for take-away and, that afternoon we pored over the songs. I had only given the drums the basic information about timing and beat, leaving the complexity to her. I had also noted some extra percussion that I thought would improve the sound when we record. I pulled my guitar out and played while I sung, Anne slapping her hands on her knees, eyes closed. I went through the whole batch like that, and she threw her arms around my neck, and we kissed once I finished.

“You’re brilliant, darling. I can hear the extra bits as we went through them. I am not just a drummer, I studied percussion and the effects that you aimed for are perfect. I can set up a bunch of stuff around me and do what you’ve written live. Don’t know how I’m going to fit the gong in.”

We went to the pub for our evening meal, me not being sussed as “Hitman Harry” and we had a nice meal. We went back home and spent a lot of the night making love. The next day, Anne gave Megan the news that she was moving in with me and Megan helped put her things together, a little too enthusiastically, or so I thought.

Two days later, we were picked up by Jerry, Megan already in the car, and taken to an industrial area where we stopped at a building with a “Recording Studio” sign on the wall. Candice and Nicole were already there. While I had been away, my guitars and amps had been retrieved from the previous place and was now stored here, joining the other kit.

Jerry insisted that the first thing we would be doing will be getting back to playing, together. I thought that a good idea, and we spent most of the day playing our old playlist, until we were back to being a single entity. At the end of the day, we worked on one of the new songs, one that the other two had heard at the charity show.

I gave everyone the score, and then played the basic tune on Candi’s keyboard and then showed Megan the basic rhythm, then Nicole the basic bass runs. With everyone now able to read music it didn’t take too many run-throughs before we could make a fist of it. That was enough for Jerry, and he ordered us to pack up, coming back tomorrow to work on the others.

On the way home, he chuckled.

“I never thought I’d see the day when Candi would take orders without so much of a comment. She had been thinking that she’s the queen of the group and I had to sit with her, and her dad, to tell them that you are all equals, but with different skills. You, young Harriette, look as if you’re more equal than the others. The four new songs you played at that charity show had hit written all over them, even without a full group sound. Now I’ve heard one today, I’ll book a recording session before Christmas. Then you’ll have a break, and we’ll record the rest of the album in the New year. Then, we pick one, or more, for a video, and that will be released to the TV stations around Easter. You’ll be going on tour at the end of May, just one of the seaside dance hall circuits. By the end of summer, you’ll have either made it big, or you haven’t. I’m not even considering the latter.”

We worked hard, up to Christmas. The only break we gave ourselves was a trip to see Dad marry Joan. It wasn’t a big affair, as the media hadn’t been told, but there was us, Pauline, and her family, and several of friends that Joan had invited. The reception was in the hotel where we had played, and then the happy couple left for a few weeks in a much warmer Spain.

There was, however, a professional photographer. When I saw the pictures, I had to order one that showed Dad looking very happy. Joan looked radiant in all of them. There was one, that Joan had insisted on, with her and the band, all smiling. She did, no doubt, think that it would come in handy when we were famous.

Anne and I spent our Christmas in the South of France, in an out-of-the-way hotel, close to a sandy beach. I needed a one-piece costume, but Anne looked fabulous in a bikini. We tried not to eat too much but did have to exercise when we got home again.

The following year we did as we had planned. We perfected all the new songs, improving them with every play. I was kept busy making notes of the changes on the scores. When we started the recording sessions, we had a big crowd in the control room. Nicola and Candi had their parents, Dad and my new step-mum came along, and Jerry had invited a few contacts from the industry. We recorded two or three tracks each session, so, by the end of the week, we had the original masters for an album.

There were two songs that screamed hit material, so we put on our new outfits and were filmed, miming to the tracks. By that time, videos were getting a lot more complicated, so we ended up, one day, on an empty moor, playing instruments that weren’t plugged in to anything, and these bits were clipped into the final video, at the correct places. I wasn’t sure but was told that it was the way of the future. Thankfully, no-one suggested that we run around, waving our arms, so it could be added on fast forward to look funny.

The video was sent to the media, a week later the album was released, along with the first single. Jerry had seeded the media with enough tips that they wanted to follow up on the story. The first single got into the top one hundred in the second week and into the top ten in the third. We were now invited to be on TV shows and our songs were being played on the radio.

Before we went on tour, we had been on a couple of the TV music shows, miming to the single, had been interviewed a couple of times, had a write-up in our local paper, and, despite all those things, had recorded the second album, and filmed the video for the next single.

The tour wasn’t a huge thing, just a small group of current acts doing four nights at fifteen seaside towns. We started in Skegness and worked down and around the coast, to finish at Blackpool. The plan was for us to open, then introduce Aggie, a girl singer who was in the charts with several hits. Because we were a complete band, we would stay on stage as her backing group, just moving towards the back of the stage to give her room. We spent a week, with her, getting her set right.

By the end of the tour, we were so tight with her set, she wanted us to be on her next record. In our days off, we rehearsed that song, and it became her encore. The second half was a three-piece rock group, followed by a four-piece glam-rock band, with a top ten song in the charts already, this year. With all of these, living alongside each other for fifteen weeks, it was inevitable that we would take some time at sound checks to have fun, jamming.

When we got to the south-east, we stayed six nights at Paulines’ hotel. Joan and dad were already booked in and had tickets to the show. It turned out that Aggie was a fan, having listened to her parents’ records, growing up, and she was taken into our little family group. When she realised that the Joetta that wrote all the songs on our album was sitting at the table with her, she insisted that we write something for her, as well. That was the moment that Joan and I became more than just writing for the Glitterbugs. Aggie had a hit with the song we played at the end of her set, listed as “Aggie and the Glitterbugs”. In the following year we had another two hits with her, writing all the songs on her next album as well.

By that time, however, we had been into the top ten a few more times, the second single hitting number one. We had included it in our set, and with all the people who saw us that summer buying it, we had almost enough sales to be in the top twenty on debut. The following summer saw us with Aggie, touring the major cities from March, through to September. It was tiring and exciting. We opened for the first half, the second half being as Aggies’ backing band, finishing with our two latest hits with her joining in, followed by her two latest hits. It was quite a show.

I had time, with Joan, to write most of our third and fourth album, plus most of Aggies next one. We were being asked to write for other singers, but the work was already more than Joan could handle. She finally retired and went, with dad, to a villa in the sun. Anne and I stayed with them quite often.

By the later seventies, we were a recognised and respected – but fading - band. Candice had her fame and fortune and was ready to do her own thing by then. Nicola had met a guy who put her in the family way, which led to us having a replacement bass player for several months. The father, however, didn’t stay around. She then took up with a bass player in another band and they ended up getting married. Megan had been forced, by living with the rest of us on tour, to become neater. She, also, found a guy and married.

By the beginning of the eighties, we had disbanded after eight years in the charts. We were being pushed out by new acts, with new sounds and new looks. Candice had a short career as a solo singer, but then found her own husband. By this time, she had lost her bossiness and had gained a lot of maturity.

Anne and I finally married near where Joan and dad lived. Dad escorted Anne down the aisle, with her in my mothers’ wedding dress. I, surprisingly, looked dapper in a morning suit. We had a full church, with a lot of other band members there. Our reception was with a DJ but that didn’t stop some established stars grabbing the microphone to sing along with the records. Our honeymoon had been kept secret from all but Joan and dad.

In fact, Anne and I had fallen in love with the area and had bought a villa a few miles along the coast. It was there that we went, after the ceremony, to take our three-year-old twins back from the nanny, and settle down, now as a married couple. We had planned the babies, making sure that Annes’ pregnancy fell in the period between tours.

As I had got into my late twenties, using my male tackle regularly, I had been overtaken by the puberty I had missed in my teens. It had been getting harder to maintain the look on stage. Drugs and full transition had never been my thing, so the disbanding had been a bit of a relief. Anne didn’t mind and it made things a lot easier when I reverted to being Harry.

Strangely, I had not sold the old home, but had rented it out, so I still had somewhere back home I could go to. I had, finally, got a driving licence in France, and we had a car to get around in. The other thing we had spent money on was a small recording studio in the villa grounds. After Joan had retired, Anne had been helping me writing songs. We were now able to make a proper recording, me laying down piano, guitar, bass, and rhythm tracks, with Anne adding percussion. The new writing duo was called Annetta, and we did very well out of it for another ten years.

When the twins graduated from the secondary school, we had a family conference, and the decision was made to move back to England so they could attend good universities. I went to talk to our tenants and found that the timing couldn’t be more perfect. By the time the next term started, we were living in the old family home. The writing was discontinued, and we had enough to live, very comfortably, on our savings and regular income from ongoing record sales.

Unfortunately, the mid-nineties were sad years. Joan passed away at a ripe old age and Dad was put into care. We visited him as often as we could. We sold his villa to an upcoming singer who was big in France. He had a pal who was looking for what we had, so our villa was sold as well. We had taken a month to get the old home modernised, with three good bedrooms, all ensuite. It gave James and Julia, our twins, somewhere to stay when the universities were closed.

That’s how they were in the house that New Year’s Eve, getting ready to go out partying. I had only put the TV on while I waited for Anne to get ready to go out. James came in as I was turning the set off.

“All right, Dad, Jules and I are heading out. See you next year.”

“Look after yourselves, son. I’m sure your mother and me will be home and asleep before you get in. Call if you need picking up and don’t drink too much!”

Anne came in, dressed for a night out, and we hugged the kids as they went out for their party, leaving in James’ car. Anne and I locked the house and we walked to the local hotel, where we were going to have a meal.

I carried my old guitar in a new case, the old one having given up some years ago. Tonight, I was going to go on the stage again, by popular demand. Once again, nearly thirty years on, “Hitman Harry” was going to be the entertainment, singing a new set of songs, all well known by the clientele. It was an hour of hits from the seventies and eighties, as the warm-up for the main band.
I could play them all with my eyes shut. It’s easy when you’ve written them all.

Marianne Gregory © 2023