Chapter 11

 

She changed into a black dress at the airport, and took a taxi straight to the funeral home. Since her family was Irish, a proper wake was first, and the funeral at the Catholic Church the next day. Charlotte’s face was red and swollen, with tears still streaming from her face.

 

It was a closed casket, because of the severity of the injuries to Rebecca’s head, but Charlotte wouldn’t yet even look in that direction. She hugged her mother, father, sister Caitlin, and kissed six month-old Colm on the cheek. “I don’t even know what she was doing on her friend’s Vespa, she’s only ten years old!” Irene cried to Char.

 

After praying in front of her sister’s coffin, Charlotte sat down in a chair in a corner far from anyone. She looked around and saw her family, all flown in from Ireland looking somber. She just felt sick, and weary, wishing it was all a nightmare.

 

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, expecting it to be yet another relative fresh from the farm in Galway, but it was none other than Brian, in a lovely suit, with a concerned look on his face.

 

                        “Brian…”

                       

“Hey there. I’m so sorry, Rebecca was a lovely girl.”

                       

“Thanks” Charlotte stood up to face him, and as she tried to speak the tears started to come yet again. Brian wrapped his arms around her.

                       

“Brian?”

                       

“Yes Charlotte”

                       

“Could you go to the funeral with me tomorrow? I really need you there with me.”

 

The next day, everyone said goodbye to Rebecca. As Charlotte kneeled by her casket, sobbing, Brian kneeled right beside her, his arm around her back. At the Quinn’s house afterwards, Charlotte and Brian sat in the back garden, away from everyone inside the house.

                        “Did you receive my letters?”

                       

“Yes, I did. But they all arrived together, during my last week in California. I read them all on the plane.”

                       

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about my children. I was only living with Linda because of our son, Julian. I’ve got my own place now.”

                       

“That all doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve learned how life is so precious. What matters is us, here right now.”

                       

“I love you Charlotte”

                       

“ I love you too.”

 

They embraced, and then Brian went on to tell Charlotte how the Stones had finally gotten their big break. They were due to go to America in a month, their first album was just released, and they already had screaming fans! That also had gotten Charlotte to think about what she was to do now.

 

 

Charlotte had gone to the Marquee club in London, to set out to be a blues/jazz singer. She had made quite enough money to support herself for a while, so she could pursue what she wanted. The owner, Alexis Korner, remembered Charlotte from the Stones’ days there as a struggling blues band.

                       

“Well, we don’t ‘ave much call for women singers these days.” He said in his scruffy voice. His Afro intrigued Charlotte, considering he was a white Englishman!

                       

“Please Mr. Korner, just take a chance. Could you maybe hire me on a trial basis? I can hold my own with the boys, I promise”

                       

“All right, all right. Be here tomorrow night. I’ll put you in with the Graham Bond Organization, they need a singer. Are you sure you can do blues?”

                       

“Trust me”

                       

“Alright, a friend of Brian’s is a friend of mine.”

 

Later that night, Charlotte’s old school friend Pete picked her up to go catch a hot new band. Charlotte was back to being a strict mod, dressed in a black pencil skirt, form fitting, short blue cashmere short-sleeved sweater, and black flats. Her hair was still long, straight and blond, but her tan had faded and her skin resembled that of a piece of paper dusted with light freckles.

 

They hopped on his Vespa and off they went to a mod ball being held in a vacant ballroom up in Brighton. They were there early, and ran up to the front of the stage to catch the band. The music they played was just unbelievable. Fast, and fierce, like nothing she had ever heard before. The guitar player, tall and impossibly thin, flung his arm in a windmill motion to strum his guitar. The singer, who was very good-looking, but knew it, was golden haired, and tiny. The bass player just stood there, the only part of his body moving were his fingers, going up and down the fret board at a lightning pace.

 

But it was the drummer that was the main attraction. Very handsome, with a big round head, a dark brown bowl haircut, and big, round brown eyes, he looked a bit like a madman the way he smashed on the drum kit. They finished the first half of their set, and took a break.

           

                        “Pete! My man! How are ya?” The drummer said in his Wembley accent.

                       

“Moonie! I want you to meet my good friend Charlotte. Charlotte, meet Keith Moon, the drummer for the Who.”

                       

“It’s a pleasure. You’re a great drummer”

                       

“Hey, I remember you. You’re the pretty lady on the magazine covers. I’m Keith, but everyone calls me Moonie. Nice to meet you.” He winked at her and proceeded to go up to the bar and get Charlotte, Pete, and himself a beer. He then took out a little plastic baggie of purple capsules. He took a handful, and washed them down with beer. Pete took three, and gave one to Char.

                       

“There you go, some nice purple hearts for ya. Will keep you goin’ all night”

 

So Charlotte swallowed them. She had a feeling this was not going to be her average night.