Keepers of the Flame: A love story

by Jeannie Wycherley

  “That guitar playing is something else,” he said.

  Jane watched him as he listened intently, munching on his fish and chips, and moving his hips to the beat. He looked as though he listened to the music with his whole body, the way he twitched and swayed and nodded his head to the complex and subtle rhythms. As the music finished he balled up his empty paper and lobbed it into a nearby bin. Jane dumped the rest of hers too.

  “Oh, I’m all greasy now,” she complained holding her fingers up.

  “Me too. Maybe we could use the bathrooms in here to clean up,” Silas gestured at the Spanish bar.

  “They’d probably want us to buy a drink.” Jane unzipped her purse and tipped out what she had. “I might be able to stretch to a couple of halves. I’ll have to walk home.”

  “Oh, we’ll figure something out,” Silas said confidently and led the way into the bar. Jane followed, wondering what ‘figuring something out’ would involve.

  It was a small venue with simple wooden tables and benches. An array of Spanish crockery lined the walls, and the floor had been covered with a colourful mosaic. A bar, lit with fairy lights took up the whole of the far wall, with a door through into the kitchen. The musicians were occupying a small space by the window. There were half a dozen people sitting around listening to them.

  The ladies’ bathroom was reached via a rickety staircase up to the next floor. A single cubicle with a tiny sink occupied the end of the landing. It was clean however, and Jane was relieved to be able to make herself more comfortable and give her hands and face a quick wash.

  She stared at her reflection in an old mirror. She realised with a start that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. Silas appeared to be unlocking feelings she had never experienced before. She found herself wanting him to catch hold of her, wanting him to kiss her again, wanting him to …

  What was she thinking?

  Jane scolded herself. There was no point thinking this way because she knew what would happen. She would go back to his hotel and spend the night with him, and then in the morning she would have to walk home because she had no taxi fare and no cash card on her. He would go off to Glasgow or wherever the hell he was heading next, and she would never speak to him or hear from him again. And how would she explain all that to Tim?

  She shook her head sadly in the mirror. Maybe there was more to life than Tim, but Silas wasn’t it, surely?

  Jane asked herself how she could walk away now, feeling like this? More alive and more excited about a man than she had ever been in her life. She was a fool, no doubt about it.

  Darn it.

  There was nothing for it. She made the decision that for now she should enjoy the rest of whatever the evening brought her way, and when she arrived at the band’s hotel she would seek out Terri and they would take their leave.

  Live in the moment, she told herself, thinking of Roy, because if nothing else, experience had taught her that one day, moments are all you have left.

  ***

  When Jane returned to the bar, she found Silas had ingratiated himself with the musicians, and was sitting amongst them, a guitar in his hand. He was picking carefully at the strings under the watchful and amused eyes of one of the guitarists. Silas looked her way and made an excited face and she laughed out loud.

  She took a seat on one of the benches, watching as Silas received an impromptu lesson. Whenever he made a mistake, the Spanish musicians roared with laughter and excitedly corrected him. He kept trying, his face a mask of concentration. After five minutes, he could pick his way through eight bars, albeit a little more slowly than the professionals. They slapped him on the back and invited him to play one of his own songs, so he played a simple version of The Unquiet Moon, introducing a picked section halfway through, to replace the rolling drum sound. He sang wistfully, directing the song at Jane once more, his eyes flicking to hers whenever he wasn’t watching what his fingers were doing. This time she managed not to cry, but her stomach performed somersaults. His rendition of the song seemed deeply personal to her, and moved her in entirely new ways.

  As he finished the song, the musicians and remaining few customers in the bar, applauded and cheered. Silas made his way over to Jane and kissed her hard enough to take her breath away, right there in front of everyone else. The owner of the bar furnished them with a bottle of Estrella Damm beer each, on the house, and they clinked bottles.

  “Do you always do that?” asked Jane.

  “What? Take over the stage and demand payment in kind?” Silas grinned. “I have never done anything like that in my life previously. I went over to say hi, and how much I was enjoying their playing, and we were chatting and I mentioned I was a musician, as you do, and hey, presto!” He took a swig of his beer and winked. “It was fun.”

  “You did look like you were in seventh heaven, I must admit.”

  Silas put his beer down on the table and reached for Jane’s hand. “You know, I so rarely get to do anything I would consider normal, like walk around the streets, or have a beer in a bar, or eat the local food …”

  “Fish and chips,” Jane smiled, enjoying the feeling of his fingers curled in hers.

  “Amazing fish and chips. That’s my new favourite food.”

  “Really?”

  “After Chinese food, maybe.”

  “Okay,” Jane giggled.

  “You’re mighty pretty when you smile,” Silas said and Jane flushed, shaking her head.

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Silas queried.

  “I … well, it’s not something I think about. I’ve been plain Jane my whole life.”

  “Plain Jane? No way are you plain!”

  “Well thank you, that’s such a sweet thing to say.”

  “You’re welcome,” Silas smiled, his mind chewing over what she had said. “Do you like your name?”

  “It’s a name,” Jane pretended to be nonchalant, then shook her head fiercely. “God, no. I hate my name. I sometimes wonder what my mum and dad were thinking. Why wouldn’t they have called me something a little more exotic?”

  “Like what?” Silas asked curiously.

  “Well, I don’t know. Moonbeam or Felicity or something.”

  “Moonbeam?” Silas roared with laughter. “I guess Felicity is a cool name for a rock chick.”

  “Felicity Fraser has a certain ring to it.” Jane took a swig of her beer.

  “I have a confession to make,” said Silas quietly. “And you’re not to tell anyone else this ever, okay?”

  “Okay.” Jane leaned forward expectantly.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Swear it.”

  “I swear it.”

  “My real name is not Silas,” Silas whispered.

  “What is it then?”

  “Kenneth.”

  “Kenneth?” Jane checked to see whether he was joking, and laughed anyway.

  “Yeah, that’s what happens when I tell people I’m called Ken. That’s why I’ve been Silas my whole professional life.” He sat back and folded his arms. “So now you have something to blackmail me with.”

  Jane shook her head. “I would never do that.”

  “Or run to the press?”

  “That’s not who I am.”

  Silas cocked his head and grinned at her, “You know, I totally believe that about you.”

  His face grew serious and he leaned forwards once more, lifting the palm of Jane’s hand to his mouth. “Listen, I have had the best time tonight.”

  “I have too,” Jane replied quietly and sincerely.

  They smiled at each other, happy in the moment, reluctant to make promises that neither could keep.

  ***

  They bid their farewells to the bar’s owner and the Spanish musicians, Silas promising to return the next time he was in Bristol, and made their exit. Outside the rain was falling steadily. Silas was clad only in t-shirt and jeans and they had no umbrella between them
. They sheltered in the doorway for a moment, watching the rain through a back drop of coloured lights. Neon signs flickered and flashed outside the neighbouring pubs and clubs. Inside the bar, the band started up once more, playing a slow and sensual version of Quizás, Quizás, Quizás.

  “Perhaps we should go back inside?” Jane suggested.

  “And beg another beer?”

  “You’d have to play again.”

  Silas looked up at the sky. “What the hell? It’s only rain, right? Take off your jacket.”

  “What?”

  “Take off your jacket,” he challenged again. “It’s only fair. Look at me.” He stepped out from under the cover of the doorway and twirled. “See. It’s safe out here even though it’s raining.” For added emphasis he pulled off his t-shirt and took a bow.

  Jane began to protest, then shook her head. “You’re crazy.” She slipped out of Roy’s jacket and Silas took it from her. She thought he would slip into it, instead he folded it, and reverently placed it in the dry on the top step along with his own t-shirt, before taking her hand and pulling her out into the rain.

  Drawing her close, his forehead touching hers, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I want to dance with you,” he whispered, “right here, right now.”

  She followed his lead. The music spilled from the windows into the street and he swayed gently, holding her close, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, groin to groin. He slipped one leg between hers, and held her in balance as they moved gently together.

  Jane gave herself to him and lost all sense of time and place. She was aware of the lights and the colours around them, but only vaguely; she could hear the music as it entered her soul; her whole being entwined with the man who held her, at once firmly and yet so gently. She could feel his breath on her skin, his lips so close to hers, the gentle pressure of the fingers of his right hand on her left hand, the rough skin on his left hand against the softness of her back. Her vest top rode up as they moved, and he caressed the small of her back, her nerves jingling with longing. It was magical. Every fibre of Jane’s body burst with life and love. She had never experienced such a feeling of completeness.

  The rain fell steadily as they danced, and by the time the song had finished they were soaked through. They barely noticed, coming together, lips and tongues and hands exploring each other where they stood, cleaving together, until a group exploded into the street from the nearby rock bar, and forced them back to reality.

  Silas broke away first, a slight smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

  “So are you.”

  They caught each other in a bear hug, until a jeer from the group made up Silas’s mind. He broke away, grabbed their belongings from the steps of the Spanish bar and then, taking her hand, they ran, laughing, back down the side street towards the main road, kicking water from the puddles and splashing onlookers as they went.

  Chapter 9

  Unable to find shelter from the rain, Jane led Silas back to his hotel. Housed in a sensational Victorian stone clad building, The Royal Victoria was a gorgeous boutique hotel that seemed oddly out of keeping as the residence, albeit a temporary one, for a heavy metal band.

  They burst through the glass doors and skidded to a halt in the immaculate foyer, dripping over the elaborately tiled floor. The subdued lighting and their impeccable surroundings muted their exuberance somewhat.

  “Good evening, Sir, Madam.” A receptionist stood to greet them, and smiled politely, deigning not to notice the pools of water they were leaving wherever they trod. Jane glanced around, in search of the bar.

  “Good evening,” Silas responded, charming as always. “Silas Garfield. I’m sorry, I forget which room I’m booked into.”

  The receptionist checked. “Mr Garfield. Yes. Room 405.” She turned to pick up his key. “I have a message for you, Mr Garfield.”

  Silas took the note from the receptionist.

  “Do you have a bar?” asked Jane. “I was supposed to meet my friend there.”

  “I’m afraid the bar closes at midnight. You can order alcohol to your room however. Just ring room service.”

  “We will do, thank you,” Silas nodded, turning away. He motioned to Jane. “This message is from Terri. It’s addressed to you, care of me. How cute.” He handed the note over. “What does she say?”

  Jane opened it, read through the note, and harrumphed. “She’s with Dewey, in room 202. Don’t wait up.”

  “Don’t wait up?” smiled Silas. He took the note back and read through it himself. “Dewey, you old dog.”

  Jane frowned, wondering what Terri was up to. It would be quite like her to do something like this, if she felt that Jane wanted space and time with Silas. But still … it was over and above.

  “Are you alright?” Silas was looking down at her with gentle eyes. She looked back at him, suddenly feeling vulnerable and unsure. This was the moment of truth.

  “I-” She stopped. I what? I don’t want to go up to your room, yet I do. I’m scared. I wish I’d never met you and yet I’ve never been so pleased to meet anyone in my life. I think I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be in love with you. I know that tomorrow you will walk away and I will never feel this way about anyone else.

  Silas watched the thoughts cross her face, his face grave. When she offered him nothing else, he handed her Roy’s jacket.

  “Will you at least come up and dry off?” he asked.

  ***

  He had a beautiful room, with a high ceiling, a small chandelier and old fashioned dado rails. A deep, thick navy carpet, gold wallpaper and an enormous king-size bed dominated the place. The overall feel was rich and absurdly opulent.

  His bags, thick canvas, had been left to one side and he rummaged among them, checking the contents, while she hovered by the door.

  “Are you cold?” he asked as she shivered. She nodded, feeling unable to explain that her shaking was entirely down to nerves and not to the temperature.

  “It is pretty cool in this room,” he said, looking around for a way to control the temperature. “No air con. This is the UK, right? You guys don’t believe in such things.” He located the radiator. It was on, although only lukewarm and there didn’t appear to be any way to control the thermostat. “Wait,” he said, and disappeared into the bathroom. He came out clutching a white towelling robe and a towel. “Wrap yourself up in this.”

  Jane took them off him. “Thanks.”

  “I’m going to have a shower, if that’s okay? The rain certainly helped sluice off this evening’s performance but I still feel kind of grimy.”

  “Of course!”

  Silas winked and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door. Jane scrunched her hair dry, and the door re-opened.

  “You won’t go anywhere, yet?”

  “No.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Swear it?”

  Jane laughed, feeling the tension ebb away. “You’re a fool. I swear it.”

  ***

  Jane opted to shower after Silas, and while she towelled herself dry in the enormous bathroom, and borrowed his comb to drag through her unruly hair, she heard him on the phone. By the time she re-joined him in the bedroom, bathrobe tightly knotted, he had set up his music system and the familiar sounds of Led Zeppelin played quietly to the room.

  “I took the liberty of ordering some tea. I thought you might like that to warm you through.”

  “That’s perfect,” Jane said. Silas was full of surprises. He could have ordered a crate of beer or a magnum of champagne, instead he’d thought of her. He’d hung her clothes over the radiator too. She wrinkled her nose at him, loving the complexity of who he was. However right now, she didn’t know what to do with herself or where to put herself.

  He observed her standing there, her nervousness entirely apparent, before taking a seat on the bed, and patting the space next to him. She sat on the opposite side.

  �
�When you left the party, the first time, you were upset?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Mo say something?”

  “Well …” Jane was loath to tittle-tattle.

  “What did he say?” Silas asked.

  “He basically said that when you invite a girl up on to the stage, you always invite them to the party afterwards, and that they become a notch on your bedpost. Something like that.”

  There was silence in the room while Silas considered what she had said. “And that bothers you?”

  Jane met his eyes. “It bothers me in the sense that it says as much about what you think of me, as it reflects on your own behaviour, I suppose.”

  Jane hesitated before confiding in him. “I have a boyfriend. He’s called Tim. We’ve been together for nearly three years. Maybe he isn’t right for me. I thought he was, but neither Terri nor my Dad have ever agreed with me about that.”

  Taking a deep breath, she carried on, thinking out loud. “You know, when my Dad was really sick, those last few days, we were joking about that Bangles song, Eternal Flame? I loathe it. I really do. My Dad was going on about how everyone has a soul mate. A love that lasts your whole life through. Like he had with my Mum. He said I would find mine.”

  Jane’s eyes pricked with tears. “So maybe that’s what I’m looking for. A flame that will burn forever. And until I find it, I will just be true to me. And that means respecting myself, not allowing myself to be manipulated into a situation I can’t control. Maybe that I’ll regret.”

  Silas nodded.

  “And that’s not to say I think you’re coercing me, or that you want anything other than a good time. It’s not even to suggest that I don’t want this or that I wouldn’t have a good time. It’s just … you’re a heavy metal demi-god, a hot shit rock star,” she chided gently. “You can have anyone you choose, I get that. I choose differently, for different reasons.”