Stories We Could Tell
A book about growing up and being young, about sex and love and rock and roll, about the dreams of youth colliding head-on with the grown-up world.Sometimes you can grow up in just one night…It is 16th August 1977 – the day that Elvis dies – and Terry is back from Berlin, basking in the light of his friendship with legendary rock star Dag Wood. But when Dag arrives in London he sets his sights on a mysterious young photographer called Misty, the girl that Terry loves.Will the love of Terry's life survive this hot summer's night?Ray is the only writer on the inky music weekly The Paper who refuses to cut his hair and stop wearing flares. On the eve of being sacked, Ray finds comfort in the arms of an older woman called Mrs Brown. But John Lennon is in town for just one night and Ray believes that if he can interview the reclusive Beatle, he can save his job.Can John Lennon and the love of an older woman really save a young man's soul?Leon is on the run from a gang called the Dagenham Dogs who have taken exception to one of his bitchy reviews. Hiding out in a disco called The Goldmine, Leon meets Ruby – the dancing queen of his dreams.But will true love or the Dagenham Dogs find Leon before the night is over?Tony Parsons goes back to his roots for this deeply personal book – the story he has been waiting to tell.
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STORIES
WE COULD TELL
Tony Parsons
HarperCollinsPublishers
For David Morrison of Hong Kong
Table of Contents
Part One: 1977 - You May Not Be An Angel
Part Two: 1977 - Angels are So Few
Part Three: 1977 - Lovers of Today
‘I Feel Love’ Words and Music by Giorgio Moroder, Pete Bellotte and Donna Summer © 1977 WB Music Corp, USA and Sweet Summer Night Music (66.67%) Warner/Chappell Music Ltd, London W6 8BS (33.33%) Warner/Chappell Artemis Music Ltd, London W6 8BS. Lyrics reproduced by permission of IMP Ltd. All Rights Reserved.
‘Stories We Could Tell’ Words and Music by John Sebastian © 1972 (renewed) Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp and Chicken Flats Music Inc, USA Warner/Chappell North America Ltd, London W6 8BS. Lyrics reproduced by permission of IMP Ltd. All Rights Reserved.
‘All You Need Is Love’ Words and Music by John Lennon and Paul McCartney © 1967 Sony/ATV Music Publishing (UK) Ltd. All Rights Reserved.
‘Shame’ Words and Music by Reuben Cross and John Henry Fitch Jr © 1975 Dunbar Music Inc, USA, Warner/Chappell North America Ltd, London W6 8BS. Lyrics reproduced by permission of IMP Ltd. All Rights Reserved.
‘Dancing Queen’ Words and Music by Benny Andersson, S. A. Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus © 1976 BOCU Music Ltd. Lyrics reproduced by permission of BOCU Music Ltd, 1 Wyndham Yard, London W1H 2QF. All Rights Reserved.
‘5.15’ Words and Music by Pete Townshend © 1973 Fabulous Music Limited, London SW10 OSZ. International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
‘Goodness Gracious Me’ Words and Music by David Lee & Herbert Kretzmer © 1960 TRO Essex Music Limited, London, SW10 OSZ. International Copyright Secured. All Rights Reserved. Used by permission.
‘I’ll String Along With You’ Words by Al Dubin and Music by Harry Warren © 1934, M. Witmark & Sons, USA. Reproduced by permission of B. Feldman & Co Ltd, London WC2H 0QY.
‘If I Can’t Have You’ Composed by Barry Gibb/Maurice Gibb/Robin Gibb. Published by BMG Music Publishing International Ltd. Used by permission. All Rights Reserved.
Although the Publisher has made every effort to trace and contact all copyright holders before publication, this has not been possible in every case. If notified, the publisher will be pleased to make any necessary arrangements at the earliest opportunity.
They stopped him as he was coming through customs. Why wouldn’t they stop him? Terry looked like trouble.
His skin pale from too many sleepless nights and God knows what else, the second-hand suit jacket from Oxfam, the CBGB’s T-shirt, Levi’s that hadn’t been touched by water since the day he bought them and wore them in the bath (his mother telling him he would catch his death, his father telling him he was bloody mental), Doctor Martens boots and – the crowning glory – his short, spiky hair dyed black, and badly, from a bottle of something called Deep Midnight that he had found at the bottom of the ladies’ grooming counter in Boots.
‘One moment, sir.’
Sir used like a weapon, like a joke. As if anyone would seriously call someone like Terry sir. Two customs men, one of them knocking on for thirty, with mutton chops and a mullet, like some King’s Road footballer trying to keep up with the times, and the other one really prehistoric, maybe even as old as Terry’s father, but lacking the old man’s twinkle.
‘Been far, sir?’
This from the elderly geezer, ramrod straight, all those years in uniform behind him. ‘Berlin,’ Terry said.
The younger one, as hairy as a character from Dickens, was already in Terry’s plastic Puma kitbag, pulling out his God Save the Queen T-shirt, his silver tape recorder, a spare pack of batteries, a microphone and a change of Y-fronts.
As Terry’s mum always pointed out, you never knew when you were going to get knocked over.
‘Berlin? Must be lovely this time of year,’ said muttonchops, and the old soldier sniggered. They thought they were funny. The Eric and Ernie of Terminal Three.
The old soldier flipped open Terry’s thick blue passport and did a double take. The pale-faced, black-haired youth before him bore little resemblance to this incriminating snapshot from Terry’s previous life, his mousey-haired and baggy-flared life, the living at home with Mum and Dad life, the working at the gin factory life when he walked around lost in dreams, and all his dreams were of getting out.
In the mug shot Terry peered out at the world from under a failed feather cut, trying to look like Rod Stewart but coming out more like Dave Hill of Slade. He even had the start of a suntan. It was a snapshot from when Terry was still waiting for his life to start, and his cheeks were burning as the old soldier closed the passport.
