by Tom Butler
Then he got the shakes just thinking about the evening ahead, and it was followed by a cold sweat. He re-read Wes’s earlier text twice and couldn’t send a reply. As far as he was concerned, he was in no mood or condition to go through with it. He had said all along it was a stupid idea and what did it matter if he was letting his kid sister down. It wasn’t as if it was her birthday. Noah didn’t deserve it. Somebody else would just have to step into the breech and perform. His head and mind weren’t right. He couldn’t do it. His bed beckoned, and he went back to it. Sylvia had no idea how he was really feeling; she just thought the rest would revive him in time for tonight. She thought no more about it.
Wes called around at three in the afternoon and sat drinking coffee with Sylvia. They smiled when they recalled their own antics at that age and looked forward to the party, unawares James had woken, heard them talking and slipped out undetected. More frantic calls and texts were made when Sylvia discovered he had gone. The birthday card remained unwritten on his bedside table. Her heart skipped a beat, and Wes dug the fingers of both hands into the back of his head and tried making a joke about the perils of an artistic temperament. He knew it was ill timed. They could both touch the tension that James had misguidedly created.
On her return from school, Mary soon became dejected when told James had gone AWOL. She had practically come home on a cloud of excitement in anticipation of the party for which she had chosen a new and colourful frock. She was now as frantic as her foster mother to make contact with James, sending several text messages pleading with him to call or text her back. What with Sylvia and Wes sending him messages as well, his mobile phone would have been buzzing continually had it been switched on.
‘Give him time, and he’ll see sense,’ Phillip said on his arrival home. ‘He’s just making a point. He wants to see us sweat.’
It did nothing to calm Sylvia down. She was torn between getting herself ready and accepting James wasn’t going to go through with it
‘But we barely have any time to spare. And in what state will his head be, assuming he walked through the door as we speak. Wes has put in such a lot of effort with him and all for nothing.’
Phillip reasoned with her and told her to go and get her glad rags on.
‘James won’t let Mary down, and he’ll do Noah proud too. Come on make a move woman and stop fretting.’
He was adamant. But as six ’o’clock passed, no one had heard anything, and the taxi Sylvia had ordered was due in an hour. She would need most of that time to get her make up looking right.
‘Silly boy,’ she muttered under her breath whilst she helped Mary with her hair. ‘He’s doing nobody any favours, especially himself,’ she groaned on.
Mary’s fingers were tightly crossed, and she hoped against hope that Phillip was right. To her it didn’t matter until the very last minute just as long as he turned up to perform.
There was someone else who would not be pleased if James pulled out of going to the party, and that person was now giving James the sharp end of his tongue. It was Budgie Bird, and he was becoming more and more agitated.
He had tracked James down to the same park bench they had commandeered last night, and he was giving his friend plenty of justifiable grief.
‘Come on, Jimmy boy, you owe me. It don’t make no sense, not going. You said you’d fix it for me to meet Melissa and mingle with the band, remember? Pull yourself together and stop behaving like a twat.’
James just sat staring at trees in the park like they were shielding him from something horrid. His hands were shaking. He had barely eaten a thing all day and looked a total mess.
‘Listen to me,’ Budgie went on. ‘You ain’t got anything to fear man. You’ll knock ’em dead. Let’s get going.’
There was no inkling of a response, only more annoying and completely expressionless silence. Darren Bird was not someone you ignored.
‘For fuck’s sake. You can’t go back on your word. If I physically have to carry you there, I will. Think what’s just around the corner for us if you set the whole place on fire. All you got to do is get on stage and sing a couple of songs. It’s a piece of piss man.’
James averted his gaze from the trees and spoke at last.
‘Got anything to drink?’ he asked. ‘I need something.’
Budgie saw a glimmer of hope flicker in the corners of James’s eyes.
‘If I get some, you’ll go to the party and sing like a bird for your big brother?’
‘I might.’
‘Only if you perform and introduce me around,’ Budgie argued. ‘You can tell them I’m your roadie, if you like; they always seem to get the chicks.’
James grimaced and gave in.
‘OK, I’ll fucking well do it, just get me something to loosen my tonsils. My mouth tastes like shit.’
With arm held aloft, Budgie told James to follow him, and they headed once more to his temporary lodgings. To get some white cider which James hoped would give him courage. Well that was the theory behind it.
******
Chapter Fifteen
Monkspath Grange was a luxuriously appointed, privately owned hotel and Spa resort run by a retired music mogul and was a regular venue for business seminars, promotional videos and fashion events. It boasted scenic views of rural Leicestershire from its galleried bedrooms, a heated outdoor swimming pool with sliding roof and a large ballroom with glitter balls and an electronic elevated stage.
Jed Murray had spent big, hiring a specialist company to add strobe lighting and feature attractions such as dry ice machines and screens depicting Hooded Eye’s album cover. There were plaster effigies of the band members with Noah’s given prominence at the front of the stage. A white Steinway baby grand piano had been placed on one side for Wes’s use and draped everywhere were Happy 18th Birthday banners and balloons. Only favoured guests got invitations, and there was plenty of security on show to rule out trouble.
In all, it was a gathering of over a hundred guests many of whom were thought to be influential in the music business. Drinks were free at the bar, and there was a spread of food fit for royalty all paid for by the record company so that the birthday bash doubled as a high profile launch for both the album and the forthcoming single. Nothing had been left to chance, and Jed had received assurances from Wes Crowley that James would excel in his brotherly birthday tribute as well as now serenading his precious sister for good measure.
But when they should have been there to make the necessary sound checks there was no sign and no explanations as to where they might be.
Wes was turning everything over in his head as he drove Liz towards the Proudlock’s house from where they planned to go in convoy. It was twenty past seven, and he was willing James to phone him or at least make contact with somebody.
Everyone skirted around talking about a certain missing person, and Liz made a fuss of Mary who she said looked just like a princess. There was even a compliment for Luke who had at least made an effort to dress smartly though he persistently tugged at his shirt which didn’t appear to want to stay tucked in his trousers. His sister Clare had dusted off her best party frock, and of course, despite having to rush, Sylvia had pulled out all the stops although she made it abundantly clear she wasn’t happy with her make up.
Phillip just looked across at Wes and gave one of those all-encompassing shrugs that married men do whenever wives turn to the subject of what to wear, jewellery, make up and preparation time.
Wes then decided he had no choice but to pre-warn Jed that James might not be performing after all which went down like a lead balloon. They had already missed their sound check he reminded Wes in a strained voice but stopped at blowing a gasket.
‘Just get him here and we’ll just not worry about the sound,’ he said. ‘And we can reschedule to fit you in. I have other fish to fry.’ With that, he hung up and left Wes to his own devices. That meant more unanswered calls and text messages and more frustration.
The same wen
t for Budgie Bird who, not so far away, was desperately trying to get James to remember the name of the hotel as they waited for the taxi he had ordered which he assumed he could get paid for once they reached their destination.
‘This is insane, man. If it’s slipped your memory just make a call to this Wes bloke. You can’t avoid him forever. Please listen to me. Just fucking do it.’
James was in no fit state to even begin to exercise his brain let alone consider performing in front of a hundred people. Like yesterday, he had downed too much white cider and was talking in riddles and occasionally laughing to himself.
Budgie kept trying. But it was looking hopeless.
‘Please, Jimmy boy. You promised me. The taxi will be here in a minute. I need an address or at least the name of the place.’
James asked, ‘What place? Where are we going?’
Budgie spoke louder.
‘Give me the name of the fucking hotel and stop pissing me about.’
There was only one thing for it. Budgie snatched up James’ mobile, and despite protests, he scrolled through the menu of contact names.
Wes answered barely before it had rung out and assumed he had James on the line. He swore under his breath and asked him where he was.
‘He’s at mine, but I’ll have him in a cab pretty soon. I just need to know where to come. James can’t remember.’ Budgie said.
‘Put James on,’ Wes replied.
‘Just tell me where he’s supposed to be, and I’ll get him there.’
Wes was confused. ‘Why can’t I speak to him?’
‘Man, I’m trying to help you here. Just tell me where. We’re wasting time.’
There was something about Budgie’s voice he didn’t like, but after a short pause, he relented.
‘Monkspath Grange. On the A6003 just outside Oakham. Any local cab firm will know of it. I’m heading there now. I need to know that James is okay.’
‘He’s fine,’ Budgie said, ending the call.
The relief on Sylvia’s face, when Wes told her he believed James was alright, was palpable. Mary gave out a little scream and clapped excitedly. Maybe after all, everything was going to be just as it had been planned, and James had just suffered from a nasty attack of stage fright. Within the hour the party might get the tribute it had been promised, and Noah the handshake he knew he didn’t deserve.
Wes arrived ahead of the taxi bringing James to the venue as darkness fell. He had sent the others inside, and Noah hadn’t been too hard to find. An effervescent if somewhat plainly dressed Melissa Murray had soon whisked Mary off to be introduced to people, helping her to pick up scrumptious looking food on the way from several serving points positioned around the ballroom which was just a sea of colour. Jed Murray was sucking up to those with influence and plenty of money, sharing out his time and not remaining in one place for very long. It was nothing remotely like any birthday party Sylvia had ever attended before, and her family members said the same with almost boring repetition.
Outside, Wes was pacing. Twice he phoned but James now had either switched off or run out of battery. Then a white cab appeared from out of the gloom and Budgie Bird sprang into action, introducing himself and asking for the taxi fare. It seemed that James had grown roots and wasn’t keen to step out of the taxi. When he did, Wes wasn’t happy with what he saw.
Still wearing the casual clothes he had worn all day and with no colour in his cheeks, James pretended everything was as it ought to be, but Wes could tell by his slurred speech and ungainly movements that he was worse for drink.
‘Bloody hell, look at the state of you. I can’t possibly put you on the stage looking like that.’
‘But the boy can sing,’ Budgie intervened. ‘Put him in rags, and he can still sing. Who cares what he wears.’
Wes cared a lot and so did those depending on James to pull off the birthday treat for Noah.
‘Where the hell have you been? Why didn’t you call me or at least answer your calls? Sylvia was worried sick about you.’
Unsteady on his legs, James staggered and shrugged at the same time. Budgie gave him no chance to reply.
‘Look, he’s here, and he’ll muddle through it,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘The show must go on. We can’t let people down.’
Wes gave the interloper a long sideways glance and questioned his involvement in matters relating to the show tribute.
‘What’s any of this to do with you? Don’t think for a minute you’ll be welcome here.’
‘But he wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for me, and besides, I’m here as James’ official guest. Keep cool man, everything’s under control.’
This only served to wind Wes up. Instead of telling himself to stay calm and not to overreact, his voice was now raised.
‘What have you given him, you animal? He’s underage. He’s fifteen. Has he taken drugs?’
Budgie turned both palms of his hands upward and shrugged his shoulders.
‘Don’t blame me, man. I didn’t force the stuff down his throat. He drinks when he’s unhappy so maybe you’re the one to blame.’
They couldn’t look at each other, and Wes had begun shouting.
‘How dare you,’ he laid into Budgie. ‘Some friend you are, allowing him to get like this. You should be ashamed.’
The raised voices drew interest from a burly security man hovering nearby. He came over and Wes gestured him away. ‘I can handle this, but thanks just the same,’ he said to the man who stood still for few seconds and then backed off.
James had ventured a foot on to the bottom step of five that would take him upwards into the foyer. His legs weren’t doing what his brain was telling them to, but at least, he was making the effort.
‘I’ll be okay. I just need a bit of time,’ he said, getting some feeling back into his limbs.
‘We don’t have the time to sober you up. I’ll tell Jed we can’t go ahead.’
Budgie wasn’t going to let Wes have the last say. ‘He ain’t drunk, man. Give the boy a chance. Once he gets on that stage, he’ll shine. You have Budgie Bird’s word on it.’
‘I have shit thanks to you. I need you to leave, right now.’
‘I ain’t going anywhere. Jimmy boy, tell him. I have to be there for you.’
A wave of James’s hand meant nothing to Wes. He repeated himself, telling Budgie he wasn’t welcome and demanding that he leave.
‘Just go. Piss off,’ he ranted.
Budgie’s wrists tightened, and before Wes could draw another breath, he had been struck on the side of his face with a clenched fist. Considering the distance between the two men, Budgie had moved remarkably quick. The blow wasn’t heavy enough to knock Wes off his feet, and his instinctive reflexes to try to duck out of the way had protected him from major facial damage. It had taken only seconds for the security man to intervene, and he was now grappling with Budgie, the supposed aggressor.
‘Leave him alone,’ James shouted. ‘Take your hands off him.’
Wes gesticulated to the security man, and he reluctantly let Budgie go.
James turned to address Wes who was feeling an area around his cheekbone. ‘Tell him he can stay, and I promise he’ll behave himself.’
It was the last thing Wes wanted, but he badly needed to get James inside the venue, if only to attempt to sober him up.
He glared at Budgie who smirked back at him.
‘Stay out of my way and count yourself lucky. I’m not going to press charges for assault. And you,’ Wes turned to James, ‘get inside, and we’ll see what we can salvage.’
Once there, James got the same look from Sylvia that he had evoked from Wes. But at least, she gave him a relieved hug, and there were less than hearty handshakes to follow from Phillip, Jed and Joe Slater. When Mary reappeared from her tour of the room with Melissa, she ran straight over and threw herself at James. He barely knew what to say or do. She said they must go and find Noah wherever he was hiding as if to show the Swan solidarity she always craved
for.
But there was no greeting of significance just half smiles, awkward glances and cold shrugs which Mary did her utmost to cultivate into something more. But at least there seemed a truce of sorts between the male siblings.
Having somehow appeased security, Darren ‘Budgie’ Bird was now in his element. Glass of wine in hand, delicious looking canapés to taste and plenty of attractive women in their party attire to drool over. He got strange looks from some as he went around sampling food without actually putting anything on a plate.
Then he spied Melissa Murray who was with her dad, and he sidled over as if he had known them all his life and began talking to them. They just looked at each other and tried passing him over to somebody else like an unwanted visitor at an art exhibition.
With perfect timing a man in a white tuxedo suddenly bounced on to the stage and announced on a microphone that the evening’s entertainment was about to start. He then went on to ask everybody in the room to join him in a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ as an obviously well worn music tape whirred into action. Noah was ushered into the middle of the ballroom by those near him, his face reddened with embarrassment, and his hands by his sides. There was a huge round of applause when the singing ended, and the man then introduced Melissa who was soon up on stage attached to an acoustic guitar and taking over the microphone.
‘This song is just for you, Noah. I really hope you like it,’ she announced, blowing him a kiss.
She then proceeded with a new arrangement of a song she had penned the lyrics to and which appeared on the album as a much more up-tempo track.
At the end of it, as the applause died down, she summoned the birthday boy up on to the stage, hugging him and kissing him warmly.
