by CJ Morrow
‘Okay people…settle down.’ The landlord was up on stage with the microphone. The crowd, who hadn’t been paying attention to the performers so far, quietened. ‘This is what you’ve been waiting for, this is the act you all came to see, put your hands together for Stone Cats.’
Exaggerated clapping was followed by hoots and whistles. Someone burped loudly.
‘Steve says there’s a scout here tonight.’ Steve’s wife leaned over and shouted above the roar.
Ella and Sam smiled enthusiastically and nodded. Steve always said there was a scout in the audience. Nobody believed it; bands didn’t get discovered like that anymore, they put themselves on YouTube, built their following online – if they were lucky.
Stone Cats came on, bowed gamely, took their places. Ella looked over at the drummer; his head was down showing his thinning hair scraped into a high pony-tail. He wore his trademark black vest pulled tight over his paunch. Ella pictured the drummer and his friend together: Laurel and Hardy, but gritty, dirty.
She watched Steve give his wife a wry smile and a wink – Steve was the daddy of the band.
She saw Charlie, handsome and elegant with his office-worker hair-cut, his on-trend shirt. He picked the mic up, said, ‘this one’s for my beautiful wife,’ then they started to sing a Beatles cover. Charlie’s voice was good; melodic, smooth, but it was Nathan, the quiet one of the group, on lead guitar, who stole the show.
Ella tried hard not to look at Nathan. Tried very hard.
When they’d finished their first song, the audience cheered and clapped and Ella’s table clapped the loudest.
‘First time you’ve seen them?’ She leaned over and shouted above the noise to the drummer’s friend, who was smiling and clapping.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Saw ’em a couple of years ago. They’ve improved.’
Ella wondered again how long she’d been the drummer’s friend.
It soon became evident that they were showcasing their versatility; they played covers of The Stones, Elton, The Killers, Busted. They could play anything. Then Charlie announced that they were going to play an original, a new song written by their very own lead guitarist. Charlie urged the modest Nathan to step forward. Ella watched as Nathan reluctantly stepped into the spotlight, nodded. She watched his hair – long, straggly rock star hair – flap forward as he moved. Saw his dark brows knit together in modesty. Is that what it was? Saw his eyes – dark and soft and definitely reminiscent of a spaniel – flash across the audience before he stepped back into anonymity.
The song began with a guitar intro – well it would if Nathan had composed it. Then the drummer joined in, tapping out a soft, slow beat, not his usual whacking style normally akin to Animal from the Muppets. Charlie stepped forward, gripped the mic softly, kept it on its stand. He started to sing. Ella smiled, watched Sam swell with pride; Charlie had such a good voice.
The words were about a girl, a girl glimpsed in the distance, met socially but always too far away. Ahh, Nathan had written Charlie and Sam’s song, for hadn’t they danced around each other for two years before finally getting together. The chorus was about love and loss and stupid mistakes. It was catchy and touching and quite mesmerising. The audience loved it, paid full attention, no clinking of glasses or rustling of crisp packets. The drummer’s friend was tapping out the slow beat on the table, softly, as though she were playing the piano. She was smiling, focusing her gaze on the drummer who looked up and flashed his eyes at her. Ella knew what that meant; the drummer wouldn’t be silent tonight, or alone. Everyone was smiling, everyone was listening – they couldn’t join in, they didn’t know the words which suddenly became dark and angry. And Charlie turned in a wonderful performance showing hurt and anger as he sang about mistakes and regrets.
It wasn’t Sam and Charlie’s song.
The words were getting darker – no longer the sweet love song it had begun as – drunken fumbling in a pub car park, icy breath that tastes of gin, an angry girlfriend in the background.
Ella swallowed hard. She could feel a lump in her throat, feel her heartbeat quicken. Her hearing became acute, she zoned out the tapping fingers of the drummer’s friend, tuned out the lilting guitar, blanked out the drumming and the base, focused in on the words coming out of Charlie’s mouth: a violent face slap, a half thrown punch, regrets, mistakes, regrets.
Ella felt sick. She had to get out. She stood up, knocked the untouched Guinness flying across the table. She had to get out. Knocked her chair over, stumbled over it. She had to get out. Pushed her way through irate drinkers. She had to get out.
Outside the air was cool; she gulped, filled her lungs. She turned her face up to the sky welcoming the light drizzle that soothed her burning skin.
How could he? The bastard. How could he?
The smokers, huddled together under their awning, turned as one to stare at her. That’s when she realised she was howling, like a banshee.
‘You all right, chubs?’ a voice said from behind her.
Ella flung round, knocking into the drummer’s friend – who was wearing a cerise leather bomber jacket and a knitted donkey hat, complete with long flappy ears -
‘Don’t call me chubs, right.’ Ella snapped back annoyed but also mesmerised by the outfit.
‘Fine. Here, I brought your stuff out.’ She pushed Ella’s bag and coat at her. ‘D’you want a lift home?’
‘Why?’ Ella snapped again.
‘I’m going. Just offering.’ She shrugged, started to walk across the car park.
‘Yes. Please. Thanks.’ Ella followed her to her car, was astonished when they got into a new Lexus.
‘Where to?’
Ella gave her the address. She still felt sick. And stupid. And embarrassed. She felt she needed to explain.
‘About that…’ she started.
‘None of mine and happy to keep it that way.’
So they drove in silence and Ella was dropped at the end of her road with little more than a ‘bye.’ And it seemed the drummer would be alone tonight.
When she got in she messaged Sam. Sorry, had to go.
Sam didn’t message back.
Ella changed out of her clothes, put on the bright green Kermit the Frog onesie her mum had given her for Christmas, their last Christmas together. She was cold so she pulled the hood up, Kermit’s eyes sat atop her head. She forced her face into a wide grin to emulate Kermit’s mouth, the felt looked like a grimace and she just felt sad and angry and betrayed.
She made herself a cup of hot chocolate, sat down with it on the sofa. Looked over at the stack of boxes in the corner, her mother’s things, reproachfully screeching sort me out.
‘How has it come to this?’ she said aloud; her voice sounded gravelly and rough like she’d smoked forty fags or been crying for hours. ‘I hate my home, I hate my job, I hate bloody Nathan. Bastard.’
She took a comforting sip of the hot chocolate then slopped some down her front. She took a tissue and dabbed it off, it had stained but that would come out in the wash.
She dozed off only to be awoken suddenly by the main door intercom buzzing furiously. She jumped up, stupefied for a moment, not remembering where she was, where she’d been. Finally she stumbled the three feet to the intercom, picked up the phone.
‘Ella, it’s me.’
‘Sam.’ Ella buzzed the external door open then opened her own front door and waited for Sam to appear. But it wasn’t Sam she saw first, it was Charlie. Suddenly Ella felt stupid in her onesie. She watched as Charlie saw it and forced himself not to snigger.
‘You okay?’ he asked. Before Ella could answer, Sam stepped out from behind him and rushed towards Ella and hugged her.
‘I’m sorry about the beer,’ Ella said; once they were inside and squeezed a bit too snugly on her sofa. Thank God she hadn’t opened it out into a bed yet.
‘Don’t think it touched any of us. The drummer’s friend just calmly picked it up before it completely emptied and the rest of it just slid of
f the far end of the table onto the carpet – it must have been on a slope. The carpet’s just a bit stickier there than usual now.’ Sam laughed lightly.
‘That’s good.’
‘So what was all that about?’
Ella glanced over at Charlie who was already looking uncomfortable and embarrassed and said, ‘Oh just a misunderstanding that happened months ago.’
Sam raised her eyebrows and waited for more, then Ella noticed her elbow Charlie in the ribs. Charlie jumped up.
‘Shall I pick you up in about an hour?’ he asked Sam, who immediately jumped up too. The pair exchanged lip pecks, then Charlie was gone and Sam was still waiting for an explanation.
‘Well?’ she said. ‘I’m waiting.’
‘It was the song. That’s all.’
‘It was a good song, I could still hum it now…’
‘Please don’t.’
‘So it upset you. Why?’
‘Because it was about me.’
‘What? I don’t think so, Ella.’
‘It was. If definitely was. Did you actually hear the words?’
Sam stopped and looked at Ella. ‘Yes, something about regrets and mistakes.’
‘Yes, and a drunken fumble in a car park, a slapped face…didn’t you hear that part?’ Ella’s face was flushed; she felt hot and unzipped the onesie a little.
Sam shook her head. ‘That was about you? You and Nathan?’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘How? When?’
‘New Year’s Eve, when you went home early.’
‘Oh yes. I was a little bit pregnant, not that anyone knew.’ A secret smile swept briefly over Sam’s face. ‘So what happened?’
‘Just like in his song. Bastard.’
‘Well I didn’t get all the words so I doubt many others did.’
‘Those who witnessed will join the dots, make the connection. And Charlie knows all the words; he’s probably already worked it out.’
‘Charlie won’t make the connection; he came home early with me that evening. Just tell me what happened. It can’t be that bad.’
Ella shrugged, wished she hadn’t started telling Sam about it. So much had happened since that night that she’d put it right to the back of her mind. She took a deep breath.
‘Me and Nathan had a drunken fumble in the car park, just like in the song. You know I sort of fancied him. He said he liked me. It went from there. It was going okay too until his girlfriend showed up. Big scene in the car park. She slapped his face, then turned on me. Tried to punch me, I got out of the way. The smokers had a ringside seat. It was awful. I didn’t know he had a girlfriend; I’d never have gone near him. Anyway, I wasn’t in the wrong, he was, not like I was seeing anyone. Then he writes that horrid song about it, about me, making me out to be a slapper.’
‘He didn’t actually say that.’
‘Might as well have,’ Ella said, getting up and pacing as she spoke. ‘And he sang that my breath tasted of gin – I don’t even like gin, I never drink gin. Bastard. I can’t ever go in there again and I don’t ever want to even glimpse him again. I know he’s Charlie’s friend and band mate and all that, but no, never. Never.’
‘Well, you probably won’t ever see him again anyway. He left the band tonight. He’s not very popular with them either. Left them in the lurch. You might have noticed he’s rather good on guitar and he writes the only original songs they perform, all the rest are covers. I know you think that song is about you, but that aside, it was good.’
‘Good, I’m glad he’s leaving. They can find another guitarist. I hope he’s going far away.’
‘Back home, wherever that is. His dad’s had an accident and broken his leg and Nathan has to go and help out.’
‘Oh, he’ll probably be back when his dad’s better.’
‘He says not,’ Sam said, ‘but they’ve left it open for him.’ She shrugged.
‘He’s had a good night then hasn’t he – upset us all.’
‘I’m intrigued about the girlfriend though. I didn’t know he had one. What was her name?’
‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’
‘What was she like?’
‘I told you, I don’t know.’ Ella flumped back onto the sofa and sighed. ‘Oh Sam, why can’t I find someone who loves me the way that Charlie loves you? Why do I always have to want the bastard? Look at that Deano bloke last year. And that other one whose name I can’t even remember.’ Ella half laughed at herself. Sam smiled; it was a thin smile that didn’t go up to her eyes.
‘Come on, it’s not that bad.’ She reached over and patted Ella’s hand.
‘Isn’t it? Look at this place, I mean, what a dump. Who would have thought? When you think of that lovely flat I used to have, affordable rent, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, overlooking the river. Then I got above myself didn’t I? Thought I’d save for a deposit, buy my own. Moved back in with my mum. And I was doing all right until...’ Ella’s voice trailed away.
‘You weren’t to know…’ Sam offered.
‘I saved quite a bit, then we needed it when my mum got ill. You know all those years she worked there she only ever had a casual contract, so very little sick pay, they did their best but it wasn’t enough.’ Ella raised her shoulders, trying to shrug off the memory. ‘We soon went through my savings, then at the end I wasn’t getting paid and hey, here I am, in this shitty shoebox.’ She gave off a bitter little laugh. ‘The rent here is more than my mum’s two bed place, can you believe that? I could have afforded that, well I was paying it. But I wasn’t on the rent book, didn’t have any rights. I had to clear out in two weeks. It’s so unfair.
Sam glanced around the room, she nodded; it was hard not to agree.
‘Sorry, I know you know all this. I just can’t get it out of my head. I do appreciate you looking after those few bits of my mum’s furniture in your garage. I will get them out as soon as…’ Ella’s voice trailed away. Just thinking about her mum’s furniture upset her.
‘There’s no hurry,’ Sam said.
‘At least, I thought, at least when I get back to work things will improve. I knew Don Perkins had gone, and I thought, well I thought, I’d finally get what was rightly mine.’ Ella stopped, took a breath and stood up again.
Sam stood up too, walked to the kitchen sink and ran them both a glass of cold water. She came back, a glass in each hand then looked for somewhere to put them.
‘See what I mean; shoebox. Put them on the windowsill,’ Ella said before continuing her rant. ‘He was a liability Sam, Don. He made stupid mistakes; he drank some lunchtimes. I don’t want to speak ill of him, because as a person I really liked him, but, he was fairly useless really.’
‘He retired,’ Sam said flatly, answering a question Ella hadn’t quite got round to asking.
‘He isn’t old enough.’
‘For the company pension he was and he’d been there so long that…’ Sam shrugged and looked away. Ella was aware that Sam had already said too much. ‘Let’s just say it was better that way.’
‘But why bring that Gwynnie-Gladys-Barbie bitch in? Why couldn’t they wait for me to come back?’
Sam shook her head, whispered, ‘new broom?’
Ella laughed, despite herself. ‘Well, it suits her.’
‘Things will get better. Just give yourself time.’
‘I don’t think it’s going to get better at work. I can’t see how that situation is ever going to improve. I loathe Gwynnie and I think the feeling’s mutual. I can’t stand Tiffy either. They drive me mad and I have to take out my frustration on Barbie and the Troll…’
Sam stood up. ‘Charlie will be here soon.’
‘Yes,’ Ella said, but her mind wasn’t on Charlie; she was thinking ahead, thinking about what she needed to do. ‘I’ll ring around some of the agencies next week. Get my CV up to date and out there. That’ll be a start, won’t it?’
She waited for Sam to agree.
‘If I can get a better job I can afford somewhere better than this?’ Sh
e twirled around with her arms out. ‘See, I can almost touch both walls.’ Ella gave a bitter little laugh. She was doing that rather too much of late.
‘All I want is a new job, a new home and a man. A good man. I want someone to adore me the way Charlie adores you. That can’t be that difficult can it?’
‘Of course not.’ Sam stepped forward and hugged her friend, before excusing herself to use the loo.
The intercom rang and Charlie was outside. Ella buzzed him in, opened the door and watched him come up the stairs. Sam was so lucky, not only was Charlie incredibly good looking – but then so was Sam – but he was kind, generous, sang in a band, had a good job. He was everything Ella wanted for herself. She felt a tinge of jealousy.
‘You okay now?’ he asked as he bounded up the stairs. ‘Sam ready to go?’
‘Yeah. Just being stupid. You know me. Sam’s just coming.’ Ella watched Charlie’s eyes as they flashed up and down her face and body. ‘Excuse the frog outfit,’ she laughed, expecting him to join in, but he looked away.
‘What you doing over the weekend?’ Sam asked as she said goodbye.
‘I’ve got to tackle my mum’s paperwork. I know there are unpaid bills in there; bank accounts that need closing. All sorts. I can’t move forward ‘til I’ve dealt with that lot.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Sam patted Ella on the back. ‘I meant to ask, how did you get home?’
‘The drummer’s friend gave me a lift. Really surprised me actually, she was driving a brand new Lexus. It didn’t really go with the tattoos.’
‘He said he hardly knew her.’ Charlie said, helping Sam into her jacket. ‘Said they’d met years ago, then out of the blue she rang up and asked where we were playing tonight. What was her name?’
‘She didn’t say and we didn’t ask,’ Ella said. ‘She was too scary.’
‘So who was she?’ Sam frowned.
They looked from face to face, shrugging.
