Keepers of the Flame: A love story

by Jeannie Wycherley

  Jane shook her head, irritated. What sort of a person did they think she was?

  “Every gig is the same. He summons a cute girl up on stage, and invites them to the party afterwards. I bet he told you not to drink anything except what he gave you too, huh?” Jane looked at her bottle and Mo sniggered. “You seem decent enough, but darling, you’re merely another potential notch on his bedpost.”

  Jane stared in disbelief at Mo, her fury mounting. “You’re assuming you know a great deal about me, and I can assure you I’m nobody’s easy lay. Now piss off,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “and leave me alone.”

  She turned on her heel. Mo’s laughter stopped her in her tracks. She swivelled around, intent on hurling her half empty bottle of beer at the revolting specimen, but she couldn’t let his goading spoil what had been a wonderful evening. Coming to her senses, she instead dropped the bottle into the bin, where Silas had thrown Mo’s drink not ten minutes before. The glass smashed and a number of people looked Jane’s way. She didn’t give a damn.

  She stormed to the door and into the corridor beyond.

  As she walked steadily away, Jane could hear someone calling her. She ignored them.

  “Hey? Hey. Hey! Jane Fraser?”

  Silas. She stopped and he caught up with her.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “Don’t leave. The party’s just beginning.”

  “This isn’t my kind of scene, Silas. Thanks for an amazing night.”

  “But we’ve only just begun to get to know each other.” Silas took her hands.

  “I have to find my friend. She has my jacket.”

  “You can borrow my jacket.” Jane shook Silas off and glared at him. How could she begin to make him understand?

  At that moment she heard a shriek from the bottom of the corridor and there at last was Terri, running towards her, waving Roy’s leather jacket, with Dewey following quickly behind. “Jane!” she shouted. “Get you!”

  The relief at seeing Terri was enormous. “Where have you been?” scolded Jane. “I was worried.”

  “Worried about me? I bumped into Scott Gilmore. Do you remember him? We went out for a while. Well, he’s some big noise in Mars, or Cadbury’s, or something now. I forget which. Because suddenly … you were on stage and I was like oh my god, that’s my best friend! My best friend is famous!” Terri’s voice rose to a shriek and the women laughed together.

  Terri turned to Silas and raised her eyebrows before glancing back at Jane. “Are you going to introduce us?”

  For the first time ever, Jane felt a sudden pang of regret that Terri was so attractive and personable. All the boys and men she had ever known had been drawn to Terri like bees to a flower. Here she was, having made a fool of herself on stage, and having had a tantrum back stage. She’d been out of order and rude. There was no way Silas could have spiked her drink, she’d seen him open the bottles. Mo had simply been stirring trouble, for his own selfish ends. Now, he would dismiss her and she would watch him make a move on her best friend. Maybe it served her right.

  She turned sheepishly to Silas.

  “Silas, this is my friend, Terri. Terri, this is Silas.”

  Silas lifted Terri’s hand and kissed her fingers, much as he had with Jane onstage. “Enchanté,” he said and took a small bow. “Delighted to meet you.”

  Terri giggled. “Why you’re a mighty fine Texan boy, Silas,” she said mimicking his accent. “I am thrilled to make your acquaintance.” She turned back to Jane and pulled a face, her eyes wide in shock.

  “Thanks for finding her for me, Dewey,” Jane said, and Dewey doffed an imaginary hat.

  “Pleased to be of service.”

  “Dewey is our saviour,” Terri giggled and linked her arm through Jane’s. “Is there anything to drink around here?”

  “Well,” Jane began, intending to tell Terri she didn’t particularly want to return to the party, however she felt Silas was owed an explanation. She glanced at Silas uncertainly. He smiled at Terri and her heart sank.

  “Can you persuade Ms Fraser to stay?” asked Silas.

  “You can count on me, boy!”

  He took the jacket she was holding and held it out to Jane. “Is this yours?” he asked, and when she nodded, he held it up and open so that she could slip into it, then turned her round and straightened the collar.

  “Don’t leave,” he said quietly.

  Chapter 7

  The thing about a true best friend is that they will never leave you in the lurch and never steal the one who has your eye. Terri instinctively understood from the encounter in the corridor that Silas was off limits. Jane may not have made her mind up about what she wanted to happen, however Terri could see that she was a little bit smitten, and given how rarely Jane showed any interest in the opposite sex, Terri backed off immediately.

  They made their way back to the reception room. Metallica had replaced Guns N’ Roses as the music of choice, but they could barely be heard above the general hubbub in the room. Jane glared at Mo when he caught her eye. He openly laughed it off. Dewey disappeared back to the stage to help with the equipment strike, promising to re-join them later, and Terri and Jane followed Silas as he made his way to the bar. This time when he handed her a bottle of beer, Jane took it from him and necked half of it straight away.

  Silas chuckled, “Third time lucky,” he said, so he had seen her throw her bottle away. She was an idiot.

  “Will NME be running a Wild Dogz feature?” Jane asked, trying to change the subject, and Terri gawped in excitement.

  “I think so. I’m meeting Matt tomorrow for the interview before we head up to Glasgow for the next few shows.” Silas gestured at Jane with his bottle. “You should come?”

  “To the interview?”

  “To Glasgow. I’d love to sing The Unquiet Moon to you again.” Jane was taken aback. She blushed furiously and looked at the floor, and Silas laughed softly.

  Terri looked from one to the other, then back again. “Er, yeah. Can you two excuse me while I go and find the ladies?” she asked and strolled off, shaking her head.

  ***

  Jane and Silas ambled around among the various guests making small talk, until Silas stopped and said with a serious face, “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “I … on stage … I’ve never had anyone cry.” Silas looked puzzled. “I’ve had people blush, or try and pull my clothes off, or kiss me, or die of embarrassment, but no-one ever cried before.”

  Jane grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t be.” He waited.

  Jane took a deep breath. “One of the last things my Dad and I talked about was this concert, and he remembered that song, from when I used to play the album over and over again, when I lived at home. He always said he knew all the words off by heart, the same as me. We were quoting from the lyrics a few days before he died. It brought it all back to me. It’s only been a few months. It’s all still pretty raw.”

  “Oh man, I’m sorry about that.”

  “Yeah. It’s been a struggle.” Jane’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

  “It was sudden?”

  “Five months ago. No, not sudden in the sense of an accident. He had bowel cancer and he was ill from about Christmas when he had his diagnosis. It was relatively quick in that sense. We knew he was terminal for a few weeks before we lost him, but it’s never enough time to mentally prepare yourself.”

  “No, I guess not. I really put my foot in it, plucking you from the audience, huh?”

  Jane smiled, tears spilling down her cheeks. “In some ways it was quite fitting. My Dad would have laughed like a drain.”

  “Laughed like a drain? A drain? Is that what you say?” Silas smiled, confused by the terminology.

  “Yes.” Jane sniffed. “And this was his favourite leather jacket. It has all his old badges on. Look. See here - Led Zeppelin, and here, Genesis.”

  “Oh that’s amazing. I’m glad you’ve been reuni
ted with your jacket. And I’m so happy you stayed.” Silas caught her in the middle of the back and pressed her gently towards him, his head almost touching hers. “I’m so sorry about your Pops,” he said.

  A repellent voice came from behind them. “Silas?” Mo had returned. Silas jerked away. “I need you to come and chat with Freddie Locke from Sony.”

  “Damnit Mo, can’t it wait? Set up a meeting for us all tomorrow.”

  “He’s heading back to London tonight.”

  “Let Bobo or Mikhail talk to them instead,” Silas urged. Mo looked around and Jane followed his glance. Bobo and his girlfriend were squashed on the sofa with Terri who was regaling them with some funny story, and rolling another joint. Mikhail had disappeared with one of the teeny boppers.

  Annoyed, Silas turned back to Jane. “Give me two minutes, okay?” Jane nodded. “And this time promise me you won’t leave.”

  “I promise.”

  “Swear it,” demanded Silas.

  “I swear,” laughed Jane and he winked and left.

  He was as good as his word. After a brief conversation with a couple of men in suits, he shook hands and gestured at Mo, before heading back towards her. Mo followed him protesting.

  “Go talk to them, Mo. I’ve asked them to set up a meeting with the whole band in London when we get there next week. Finalise the details.”

  “C’mon Silas …” Mo started.

  “Mo, for fucks sake man, just do your damn job,” Silas snapped and Mo backed off, resentfully watching as Silas returned to Jane’s side.

  “I have so had it with this party. You want to leave?” he asked.

  She did.

  Chapter 8

  “You’ve had a good night so far?” Silas asked as they made their way out of the venue. They took the back exit, moving carefully around the heavy black and silver boxes still waiting to be loaded onto the lorry. The stage was now completely clear, and the auditorium lit by house lights. Jane could see a cleaning crew clearing the debris from the floor and the seating areas with practised and efficient ease.

  Silas had located Dewey and asked him to look after Terri while he and Jane had a stroll, which the other man had happily agreed to. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” he had assured Jane. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  Silas had rolled his eyes, and Dewey had hastily added, “You can call a cab from there to get home.”

  “Shut up, Dewey,” said Silas, and they all laughed together.

  “I’ve had an amazing night. Really,” Jane reassured Silas as they walked companionably side by side into town.

  “A little sad though, huh?”

  “Well … memories. You know how it is.”

  “I kind of do. I lost my Mom when I was five years old. I don’t remember her real good though. Sometimes, I get a flash back. A fragment of a memory. Sometimes more of a feeling.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Jane said, thinking of all the information she had glued into her scrapbook when she was younger. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aw, it’s not recent or raw like your loss. And my stepmom is something else. She was the one that persuaded my Pops to let me learn to play the guitar and the piano. She always comes to see me when we play anywhere near home. She’s my biggest fan.”

  “Buckhorn, Texas?”

  “That’s right. You know a lot about me. I know hardly anything about you.”

  “There’s not a great deal to tell. I grew up in a small town just outside of Exeter which is south west of here. I have no brothers and sisters. Terri is my best friend. I met her here in Bristol at the University where I’ve been living ever since. My Mum and Dad are … were … fanatical about music and it rubbed off on me. But I don’t play or sing. I only buy records.”

  “And Wild Dogz are your favourite group in the whole world ever?”

  “They are.”

  “I should think so. Yes ma’am.” Silas laughed and caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “What other music do you like?”

  “Oh the full range of rock and metal really.”

  “You like the big Brit bands? Queen? Black Sabbath?”

  “I do.”

  “I do too. I love them. Grew up with them. Marillion? I love the poetry in their lyrics.”

  “Mm-hmm. Script for a Jester’s Tear. That’s a wonderful album.”

  “Yes, it is. I would love to meet their lead singer and songwriter. Fish? I’ve been trying to write more poetic lyrics myself.”

  “You can tell. I mean, I could tell, from the new songs you played this evening.”

  “You could?” Silas was pleased. “There’s a place for the thrash stuff, but I think we can do something a little more interesting too. I’m getting a bit old for all that screaming and motherfucking and stuff, you know?”

  Jane burst out laughing. “What?” Silas asked.

  “A bit old? You’re what … twenty-five, twenty-six?”

  “I’m twenty-seven! Or should I be coy about my age. I was twenty-seven last week. We were in Oslo. Good gig. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-two.” Jane volunteered. “A whippersnapper compared to you. Happy birthday for last week.”

  “Thank you. A whippersnapper?” Silas repeated the word, enjoying the sound of the syllables. He halted, and turned to face her. He smiled, tucking the hand that was holding hers behind her back. “Ma’am, may I trouble you for a birthday kiss?”

  Jane’s stomach flipped, partly in consternation at the request, and partly with excitement. Without thinking, she tilted her head to his and met his lips.

  It was a chaste kiss. She started to pull away but he nuzzled back against her and kissed her again. The third time their lips lingered a little longer, each of them enjoying the moment of closeness. The next time their lips came together, Jane’s mouth opened and they melted into a hot embrace, until Jane pulled back gasping for breath. Not for the first time that evening she was feeling weak at the knees.

  “Thank you,” Silas bowed, ever the gallant. “That was the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

  ***

  “What would you like to do?” Silas asked. They were meandering aimlessly through the streets of Bristol, looking into the illuminated windows of otherwise dark shops. “What time is it?” He didn’t have a watch.

  “Half-twelve,” Jane checked hers. “I’m easy.” She bit her lip. That wasn’t what she had meant to say.

  “Like Sunday morning?” Silas laughed. “Coffee and scrambled eggs?”

  “Tea and buttered toast.”

  “Tea? And toast? That sounds good too. Man, I could eat.”

  “We can find somewhere to eat, if you like?”

  “That would be great, but ah … this is kind of embarrassing. I don’t have any cash.”

  “Oh?”

  “We move so quickly from place to place I don’t get out shopping overly much. If I want something, I get someone else to buy it. Put it on management, you know? I never have the right currency.”

  “Well,” Jane laughed, thinking of her Dad’s tenner in her purse. “I guess I could afford to treat us to fish and chips if we can find anywhere open this late.”

  Jane led Silas down a side street. Young men and women spilled out onto the street here from clubs and bars, and a mix of music filled the pedestrianized area. Spanish guitars, merged with Indian sitars before rock music dominated. They paused outside a bar called The Rock Oyster. A Wild Dogz track blared out of enormous speakers. The club was crammed with men and women wearing band t-shirts, raving about the gig. One guy, leaning against the door, stared blearily through beer goggles at Silas.

  “Hey man, you look a lot like Silas Garfield from Wild Dogz. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “A few times, man, a few times.”

  “That’s so cool. Stay gold man.”

  “You too, bro.”

  Jane giggled and Silas waved. They set off again, Silas sliding his arm around Jane’s waist and pulling her to him.
/>
  The chip shop Jane had in mind was tucked off the side street in a narrow ally. She remembered it from her clubbing days. They sold great fast food and remained open until the clubs chucked out.

  “What would you like?” Jane asked when they reached the head of the queue.

  “Well,” Silas surveyed the menu and looked blank. “I guess I’ll try fish and chips. That’s what y’all rave about, right?”

  “Have you never tried fish and chips?”

  “No ma’am,” Silas replied.

  “Well, they are a great British staple, although maybe kebabs or chicken tikka curries are catching them up as the national dish. Nonetheless you have to try fish and chips at least once. If you don’t like them, at least you gave them a go.”

  “Alrighty.”

  Jane handed him over an open wrap of fish and chips. “Salt and vinegar?” she asked.

  “Hey, whatever. Everything. Yes. The way the Brits do it. Let’s go!” Silas enthused, and Jane sprinkled plenty of both, handed over her precious ten pound note to the man behind the till, and collected her change.

  “Thanks Dad,” she said quietly, and smiled up at the ceiling.

  ***

  “This is good. But it’s damn hot,” said Silas, blowing on his fingers.

  “I should have grabbed you a little wooden fork,” said Jane and laughed. “Sorry. I forgot.”

  “No matter. I’m so hungry, I’m going to eat all this, paper and all. Maybe I’ll just put my face in it and inhale it like a pig.”

  “Mm? Attractive,” Jane pretended to eat her chips daintily, and Silas threw one of his at her. “Hey,” she said, “don’t waste them. You never know where your next portion of fish and chips will come from.”

  “Well that’s the truth.” Silas looked up at the sky. “You know, I think it’s going to rain. Either that or an owl, or something else flying by, pissed on me or something.”

  “It rains a lot in this country.”

  “You’re not kidding.”

  They strolled back into the side street and meandered back through the throng of people, stopping every now and again to listen to the music. The music from the Spanish bar was live rather than recorded and pulled at Silas like a magnet. He craned his head to peer through the windows so he could see what was happening.