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pleased him to have it jingling in his pocket.
He hadn't grown up as poor as Johnno and Brian, but he'd been a long way
from knowing the comforts of Stevie's childhood.
Now they were on their way to Texas. Another festival in a year crammed
with them. He didn't mind really. After that, it would be another
performance in another city. They were all blurring together, the
months, the stages. Yet he didn't want it to stop. When it did, he was
desperately afraid he would sink back to obscurity.
He knew that when the summer was well and truly over, they would head to
California, to Hollywood. For a few weeks, they would live among the
movie stars. And for a few weeks, he thought with twinges of guilt and
pleasure, he would be close to Bev. The only person P.M. loved more
than Brian was Brian's wife.
EMmA SET UP THE LETMRED BLOCKS. She was very proud of the fact that she
was learning to read and spell, and was determined to teach Darren.
"E-M-M-A," she said, tapping each block in turn. "Emma. Say'Emma."$
"Ma!" Laughing, Darren pushed the blocks into a jumbled pile. "Ma Ma."
"Em-ma." But she leaned over to kiss him. "Here's an easy one."
She set up two blocks. "D-A. Dad."
"Dad. Dad, Dad, Dad!" Delighted with himself, Darren climbed onto his
st.u.r.dy legs to race to the doorway and look for Brian.
"No, Dad's not there now, but Mum's in the kitchen. We're having a big
party tonight, to celebrate the new alb.u.m being finished. We'll be
going home to England soon."
She was looking forward to it, though she liked the house in America
just as much as the castle outside of London. For more than a year she
and her family had flown back and forth over the ocean as casually as
other families drove across town.
She had turned six in the autumn of 1970, and had a proper British
tutor, at Bev's insistence. When they settled back in England again,
she knew she would go to school with others her age. The idea was both
frightening and wonderful.
"When we get back home, I'm going to learn lots more, and teach you
everything." As she spoke, she piled the blocks into a neat tower.
"Look, here's your name. The best name. Darren."
On a cry of glee, he pranced back to crouch and study the letters. "D,
A, Z, L, M, N, 0, P. " After sending Emma a wicked smile, he swooped
his arm through it. Blocks crashed and tumbled. "Darren!"
he shouted. "Darren McAvoy."
"You can say that well enough, can't you, boy-o?" In three years, the
flow and cadence of her voice had come to mirror Brian's. She smiled as
she began to build something a little more intricate for him to
demolish.
He was the light of her life, her little brother with his dark thick
hair and laughing sea-green eyes. At two, he had the face of a
Botticelli cherub and the energy of a demon. He'd done everything
early, crawling weeks before the baby books had warned Bev to expect it.
His face had been on the cover of Newsweek, Photoplay, and Rolling
Stone. The world had an ongoing love affair with Darren McAvoy. He had
the blood of Irish peasants and staunch British conservatives in his
