"Mom...please don't make us move to that place in England..." I'd complained, kicking and screaming.
"Birmingham, honey. Get used to it, we've already put in the down payment for the house." Mom sighed.
"What? We're not living in an apartment?" I was a city girl. And now my parents were sticking me amongst the countryfolk.
"No. Your dad and I decided we wanted a place that we'd feel safe for you to grow up in. And Birmingham is just that - small-town life," Mom said. "I know you're upset..."
"Mo-om, this is SO unfair!" I loved living in Hong Kong, being of both Chinese and British descent (my mom was from Hong Kong, my dad was originally from the UK). I went to a British school in Hong Kong, so that wasn't going to be a problem. But I was going to miss being able to go downstairs from our apartment, go around the corner to Chin's Grocery and pick up roasted chestnuts on a cold winter's day, or get some fresh lychees when they were in season. "I'm not going to have any friends or anything. I'm going to be miserable!"
I didn't have any siblings so that made the situation even worse. I was a loner in general, content to sit in the corner of my room with my journal, pen to paper. Music was one of my few salvations. I had grown up with the Beatles, with the Stones, with the Supremes and the Four Seasons. Diana Ross, Paul McCartney, Frankie Valli - they were my friends.
Mom sighed loudly. "You'll find new friends. I've wanted you to make new friends anyway. Besides, your father's new job in Birmingham is going to be a lot more interesting. Your dad is going to have to do a lot of traveling so you might get to go to the States..."
That made me feel a little better. I remembered reading about the Fillmore and the Haight.
But not much. "Still, Mom. My life is over..."
Mom put her hands on my shoulders. "You'll make new friends. You'll see."
So a couple weeks later I stepped into the main lobby of Silvermead Junior school, worried about how the kids were going to react to "the new kid" - and definitely someone who looked, and sounded different. I smoothed out the collar to my crisply pressed white shirt after signing in on the rollbook and checking in. Luckily, since I had been schooled at a British school in Hong Kong, at my parents' insistence, I didn't have a radically different accent, and a lot of the slang, so I wasn't completely a fish out of water.
The headmistress directed me to my classroom. I had shown up just on time, and all the seats were taken. Except for one in the very back row.
When the bell rang, the teacher, Ms. Prentiss, had to embarrass me, being the new kid. Guess it was her prerogative. "We have a new member of the class today. Class, I want you all to greet a new student - Angel Spencer."
"Hi Angel," the class chorused back to her.
Ms. Prentiss continued. "Angel's father is working for ITV, one of the television companies. Angel, can you tell us where you are from?"
I stood up, uncomfortable that she put me on the spot like this. "Until now, I've lived all my life in Hong Kong. We had an apartment overlooking Kowloon Bay and I have to admit it's going to be hard to get used to life somewhere else besides the city."
"Well, I am sure some of your classmates will take you around the city and show you around, so you can get acclimated to your new surroundings, Angel," Ms. Prentiss harped. "Now class, today we're going to be starting the book reports..."
I still felt like I had been upended, rather unfairly I might add, into a completely different environment. And didn't like it.
When class was over, I got up from my desk and sighed. I was slow in getting up, I think finally my jet lag was starting to kick in. The boy who sat in front of me, he took his time in leaving class. I looked over his shoulder and noticed he had a clipping of Gary Glitter on top of his pile of books.
NME I presume, I thought to myself. I doubted Ms. Prentiss had approved of him looking at that during class, so I suppose now that class was over, he'd sneaked it out for a better look.
"You like Gary Glitter?" I asked. I had to make friends somehow. At least maybe I would have omething in common with this boy. He had dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, yes, I do. Why, do you listen to that stuff?" he asked. The boy had a wide, engaging smile that I couldn't help liking.
"Very much so. I'm a music freak."
At that age, every kid is awkward when they're around someone of the opposite sex. We were no exception. "Music is a way of life for me," he said slowly. Obviously very mature for his age. "Oh, guess I should introduce myself. Nicholas Bates." He extended a hand. "But everyone calls me Nick." He had this cutesy dimple when he smiled broadly.
I reached out to shake his hand. "Angel Spencer. Nice to meet you." "So...you just moved here?" Nick asked, picking up his books, as we left the classroom. I nodded. "I've lived here all my life. I should show you all the important places sometime then - the record store, the arcade, the best soda fountain..."
"I'd like that." I smiled to him. He was trying so hard trying to be nice in that squirmy 5th grade way. I knew he didn't have to be.
We soon became fast friends. My parents weren't home a lot - my dad had this high powered job for ITV but he had to travel a bit for it. So it wasn't uncommon for him to be spending time in the Midlands one week, Sheffield the next, etcetera. My mom had been a stay-at-home mom until we moved to the UK. She then was able to get a job as a production assistant for the same company so she often went with him on business trips. Leaving me by myself a lot. Luckily I had found a friend in Nick. When I was lonely or bored, I'd ring him up and we'd talk, or I'd go over to his house for dinner. Nick's parents were really nice and welcomed me into their home.
So he regarded me as his "girl." Which was fine by me because he was a good friend of mine. His attention was always on me, and I liked being in the spotlight of anybody with my parents gone so much. At that age you don't really take the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing too seriously. My parents thought it was "cute" that I had "a little boyfriend."
"You're a good character study," Nick said one day, when we were outside for recess and he sat down with his sketchpad. I blushed, knowing that he was trying to sketch me.
I was the center of Nick's world, and he was the center of mine. Until the following year.
That was the year he met Nigel John Taylor.
Nigel was a kid who lived a couple streets over. Bespectacled and quiet, I didn't think of him as much. But both he and Nick voraciously gobbled up the newest Bowie and Chic records at the local music store, and tore through copies of NME. At least I liked the music too, if I didn't, I would have broken up with Nick long before.
They were so radically different, or so it seemed. They weren't rebellious like the other youth, they seemed perfectly happy listening to their 45s and talking about Bowie's new look. Somehow though, I sensed that although John was older than Nick by about 2 years, Nick had matured much quicker, had a mind that formulated ideas much faster.
He was the one who had the bright idea to dye his hair platinum blonde. Nick had almost convinced his new best friend Nigel to dye his the same.
"My mum is gonna kill me," Nigel said, worried, as I fluffed off Nick's new blonde head of hair, "if she ever saw me with blond locks." Nick kept saying something about he wanted to transform himself into someone different and this was the first step. Disappointed that Nigel wasn't willing to dye his hair, somehow he had convinced Nigel to instead don some new clothes.
New Romantic style they were called. Exciting dyed hairdos, ruffly white shirts, black leather pants, a well-placed scarf or belt.
Somehow I put up with those loons!
Interesting. I personally hated the look. I couldn't see what Nick's vision was, but I heard enough about it. The most he got me into the whole New Romantic movement was making me get a leather jacket. Which, thankfully, my parents didn't go through the roof when they saw me wear it whenever me and Nick went out.
Nick, Nigel, and the music scene of the '70s filled my imagination when I wasn't thinking about school or the future.
On my 16th birthday, a letter with no return address lay on the floor when I came in. A note lay beside it, in my mom's long but labored handwriting. It read: "Angel dear, Nick came by last night when you were asleep to drop this off. Sorry we can't be here for your birthday, but I told Nick to take you out for a proper birthday. Love, Mum." I opened the envelope gingerly and a slip of parchment fell out with scrolly calligraphy.
standing in the corner at the dance last night
I was almost leaving when you came in sight
you were dancing to the beat
and my head was spinning when I saw your feet
I didn't know I loved you, 'til I saw you, rock and roll
you're my inspiration, you're my heart's desire
you're reelin' and a-rockin', set my soul on fire
now I'm gonna spend my life
rockin' and a-rollin' if you'll be my wife
I didn't know I loved you, 'til I saw you, rock and roll...
happy birthday to my one and only Angel...
love Nick.
That was a Gary Glitter song from way back - "I Didn't Know I Loved You." The same year that I moved to England. The year I met Nick.
He was so sweet. He was going to come over that night and take me out for a birthday dinner. Afterwards, we came back to my house to listen to some music and just hang out.
Back at the house, a foil wrapped box appeared in Nick's hands. "This is for you," he said slowly, smiling. "Happy birthday, my love." Unwrapping it, it was a beautiful glass music box. "Turn the knob a little," Nick encouraged, and I did as he said. When I let go, it started playing the Beatles' "Yesterday." He explained, "even if we are apart - I want you to remember today like it was yesterday. When life was simple and we were in love." I put down the music box right in front of my vanity so I would see it every time I looked in the mirror.
I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he wrapped me with his. "Thank you Nick." I remembered that moment forever. He dressed uncharacteristically for himself in those days - not in his standard New Romantic garb, Nick wore a well-cut suit, and I had worn a simple pale pink dress.
His soft lips pressed against mine. Nick's kisses had the habit of taking my breath away, because they were as soft as snow and were retained in my memory. We snogged yes, but never went any further. "I really have to get home soon, before the parents ground me..." he whispered in my ear.
"Nick, please don't leave me. Just stay a little longer," I said softly. "Please?"
"Okay. But only for a moment. Then I really have to go." I sat down on my bed, him beside me. I felt so content with him next to me, him wrapping his arms around me.
I sighed, Nick's fingers running down my arm. We were both sixteen. Idealistic.
And hopelessly in love. I wanted Nick's arms around me forever. "Nick...?"
"Yes, love?" His fingers played with the waves of my hair.
"Do you love me?"
He paused for a moment. "Why, that's a daft thing to say."
"Even if things change?" I asked.
His brow furrowed. "Stand up for a moment, love," Nick said, tenderly pulling me up from my bed, leading me to the mirror.
I felt self-conscious looking at myself in the mirror. Nick was always so much more fashionable than myself. I was always in constant fear that he would drop me in a second for someone flashier, someone prettier, someone sexier.
Nick stood behind me in the mirror. "Who do you *want* to be?"
I shrugged, biting on my lip. I wanted to say, I want to be the kind of girl you want me to be.
"Who do *you* want to be, Nicholas Rhodes?"
"No fair, I asked you first," he replied, laughing. He pretended to arrange a non-existent bowtie on his collar. "I want to be a rock star." The way he said it, it was a statement. Like there'd be no doubt about it.
I almost laughed. "A rock star?" I sputtered, "but why?"
"Somehow I feel like I'm destined to be famous. You think these seven A levels are worth anything? 'cos I don't."
"Nick, I thought we agreed - that we were both going for the A levels, and then the O levels for university..."
"Don't tell a soul but I'm decided not to go in for my O levels," Nick said quietly. "I've made up my mind."
I gasped. "But why? Nick, you did so well on your A levels." "They're not worth anything to me anymore. If I'm going to be famous, I'm going to be famous."
Little did I know that soon after Nick would buy a Wasp synth, and he and Nigel would try and start a band. And the Rum Runner became their new hangout.