And Your Girl Can Sing

Chapter 91: A Series of Unfortunate Events, Part 2

"You'll never have guessed what just happened."

    I was leaning on the phone next to John, the two of us getting our heads as close to the receiver as possible. Paul's excited voice had cut through the air: "Remember the fancy bloke? Epstein? He wants to meet with us, to talk about management. Management!"

    "We don't need fuckin' management, we have me." John had snorted. And then in an afterthought, he added thoughtfully, "And Mona."

    That Sunday when we had our meeting with Eppy we were all late. I kept checking my watch, but after a few drinks at The Grapes pub on Mathew street, my concept of time and obligation flew out the window.

    "Don't we have someplace to be?" I mumbled, reaching across to snag the last chip from the bowl in the middle of the table. The boys saw me and they lunged for it as well.

    "Now now, Cora, that chip is mine," Pete said as his fingers moved briskly over mine.

    George cut in. "Best, ye've had more than any of us combined since they've come."

    "Naff off all of ye. George, ye should talk," John said as his other hand reached to tickle me, making me lose my grip on the chip as he dove for the prize. "Wanker," I mumbled and threw an arm over the table. "I'm tired."

    "Don't we have someplace to be?" Bob Wooler repeated my question, frowning as he sipped his one beer, ignoring the chips. John had him come along because he wanted to get his opinion on Epstein.

    "Shite, I think it's that meeting with Eppy," Pete slowly recalled. "Are we late?"

    "S'pose we are," John said. "Should probably go."

    No one moved.

    "It's all the way in Whitechapel," Pete said and downed the rest of his beer.

    "We are in Whitechapel," I said. "We're a few meters away, wanker. It's next door."

    Even with all that, we were late. Brian was sitting at his desk, looking apprehensive as we walked into the NEMS office.

    "Hello boys and Cora," he said after no one said anything. There was a little pause where he looked like he wanted us to say something.

    "Oh—sorry we're late," I finally managed to say as I looked at the clock, the numbers on the clock being far later than the number he had said on the phone.

    "Where's Paul?" Brian asked, looking like he was hiding his upset.

    "He's taking a bath. He just got up," George said. "But don't worry, he may be late, but he'll be very clean." All of us burst into laughter and Epstein put his head in his hand from the ludicrous situation, but I couldn't tell if he was laughing or upset. "This is me dad," John finally said, grinning, pulling Bob over by the sleeve to introduce him, and when Brian raised his head, I saw he had a faint smile on his lips.

***

    Anna was going to have supper with us that night at the dumpling place John and Paul and I had eaten at, back when Paul showed up in baggy trousers because he was depressed about Dot and his life choices about the band. I, however, was thinking about Martin's comment to me after we last met: someone at his house who I knew, but I couldn't meet him until after we had the dinner.

    "At least tell me who it is?" I begged, sliding in my last coin for the public phone near the restaurant.

    "I don't even know him," Martin's voice said mysteriously. "Never seen him before in my life. He's odd, though."