Page 51 of All Summer Long

‘I can’t be one hundred per cent certain, Desmond, but I seem to recall that this one is Himalayan yak.’

Dessy, Jase and Robinson all stared at Stewie.

‘Do you know, Stewie, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you without a wig on, and you have the most delightful head,’ Jase slurred, blinking. ‘It’s like a freshly boiled egg.’

‘Can I touch it?’ Dessy said, leaning over and giving Stewie’s head an approving buff. ‘You should dare to go bare more often, it looks good on you.’

‘Alice looks so damn good bare,’ Robinson said to no one in particular from the recesses of the armchair.

All eyes swung from Stewie to Robinson.

‘O.M.G.!’ Dessy said, clapping his hands in delight. ‘Have you been getting down and dirty with the lady of the house?’

Robinson realised too late the words hadn’t just stayed in his head as he’d thought.

Stewie clutched his wig in both hands, misty eyed. ‘Marvellous news, marvellous news, mon cherries! Just between us boys, our Alice is a dead ringer for one of my favourite co-stars from back in the day. Went like a bloody racehorse, she did, all hair and teeth and sexy rump. Fine filly. Wasn’t averse to a good flogging, either, if I remember rightly.’

Jase took Stewie’s wig and tried it on for size. ‘So, just so we’re clear as crystal chandeliers … you and Alice are …’ He screwed up his nose in distaste and made a lewd poking gesture with his hands.

Robinson frowned. ‘I don’t think I actually said that, did I?’

Dessy sidled up to Jase and stroked his hair. ‘God, that suits you, sexy boy, you look like Marilyn Monroe,’ he purred. ‘Give us a go.’ He moved the wig from Jase’s head to his own and blew Robinson a kiss. ‘Err, sailor? You so did say that you were boffing our chatelaine.’

Robinson scratched his head, confused. ‘All I said was that she looked good bare.’

‘That’s right, good boy,’ Jase laughed. ‘And unless you’ve taken to perving through caravan windows, that means you’ve taken her clothes off.’

Robinson closed his eyes, wishing Alice was there right now so he could take her clothes off.

Dessy stood up, unsteady on his feet, and picked up Robinson’s guitar.

’I’m gonna play you a song,’ he said, his feet planted wide apart.

Jase jumped up and took the guitar from Dessy’s uncertain fingers. ‘You know how much this thing must be worth?’ he said, passing it carefully to Robinson.

‘Firewood,’ Robinson croaked, holding his old familiar friend more like gold than kindling nonetheless.

‘Know any Elvis, Robster?’ Stewie said. ‘I’m sure I met him once.’

‘Where, down the chip shop?’ Dessy said, smirking.

Robinson had lost the thread of the conversation, because he had his guitar in his hands and his defences were down and someone had mentioned Elvis.

His fingers moved unaided by his brain, striking up the opening notes of ‘Jailhouse Rock’, and he didn’t even think about whether or not to sing, the words just fell out of his mouth unbidden. He was singing, and everyone was clapping and drunk singing with him, and then he was on his feet, and somehow he was wearing Stewie’s wig, and that was precisely, exactly how he looked when he stumbled, laughing, to answer the front door when Alice who looked good naked knocked five minutes later.

Except it wasn’t Alice.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

‘Marsh?’

Robinson squinted through his bourbon-soaked haze at the familiar outline of his manager in the doorway of the manor.

Donald Marshall dropped his fat cigar in shock and ground it into the front step of the manor underneath his boot. ‘Sweet baby Jesus and his beautiful virgin mother Mary, this situation is even worse than I thought.’

Behind him, Robinson could feel Dessy, Jase and Stewie gathering, horribly like he’d assembled the worst backing singers ever.

‘Marsh,’ Robinson said again, rendered stupid by booze and shock, trying to work out how his tiny but mighty manager who never left Nashville had landed here slap bang in the middle of his English fairytale.

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