by DaNeo Duran
The lads had a sketchy twelve-month plan which she, Amy had just rocked by suggested the un-suggestible; something neither lad dared consider.
‘So, we should sack Brian?’ Danny said as if turning Amy’s words over to see how they fit.
‘Katherine suggested it too,’ Calvin said. ‘Given the scarcity of drummers I dismissed the idea.’
‘They might be rare but without you guys what’s he gonna do?’ Amy said. ‘Yes, he could join other bands but if they don’t suffer his crap then he’ll have to join another band, and another. He should realise he needs you too.’
‘Good point, what can a drummer do without a band?’ Danny said.
‘The thing is,’ Amy went on, ‘when you two sing there’s magic – when you add Brian to the mix that magic vanishes. So what value is he?’
Danny’s expression brightened.
Amy clicked her fingers as another suggestion sprang to mind. ‘As a compromise, you could just, not phone him again.’
The two lads looked at each other.
‘Sounds like a cop out,’ Calvin said.
‘Not really – you two do your thing and see if another drummer comes along. Meantime, Brian might recognise he’s not indispensable and call you, with a change of attitude to boot. If you really find you need him, ring him and say you’ve been busy or something.’
Calvin looked at Danny and seeing him revived by Amy’s logic thought, That’s it Brian’s as good as gone. Shutting his eyes he could almost see his dad grinning. Nevertheless he nodded. ‘You’re right – drummers might be rare but I suppose Brian’s not worth the trouble.’
Danny’s inability to deal with bullies maddened him more than the insults themselves but he felt the weight lift with the idea he’d never have to deal with Brian again. ‘With or without a drummer we need to practice,’ he said taking his Tokai Telecaster from its case with renewed verve.
Thrilled with herself Amy left to do her overdue exam revision.
Saturday 18th June 1983
The following Saturday the lads shopped in London’s Denmark Street for an amp to replace Danny’s ailing practice amp. Calvin had insisted Danny take his Tokai along for reference. In the shops the salesmen pushed the latest solid state amplification but the U2 sound Danny wanted evaded him. Frustrated he didn’t believe The Edge’s sound lay solely in the effect pedals he used. Though they came back without an amp, Danny felt like he’d a new guitar having learnt that Tokai’s reputation rivalled the more expensive Fender, from which his guitar had been copied.
After arriving back, Amy cooked a feast for everyone. She’d spent the previous year drinking too much and studying too little. But after her first week of exams her body craved alcohol despite her now full tummy.
‘Let’s go out,’ she said before anyone got too comfy watching TV.
‘You fancy a pint in The Lion?’ Calvin asked Danny.
‘Why not, I see it every day anyway.’
Getting ready in her room Amy resolved to look her best. Though her unmanageable hair generally refused to fall into one style or another the hairdryer’s full heat forced it into acceptability.
Next came frustration when her denim dress squashed her boobs and worse, when she sat to pull on her Doc Martins, her corpulent stomach strained at the dress’s buttons. In the mirror she looked short legged and tomboyish. She wondered why she’d figured on Docs given the weekend’s temperatures. Off came the boots and socks. Summery high heels transformed her reflection provided she held her stomach in.
’You look nice,’ Calvin said as she stepped into the landing. ‘What’s the occasion?’ Danny came out of his room but didn’t pass comment.
Regarding both lads in drainpipe jeans, Adidas trainers and T-shirts, Amy thought they looked handsome but unmemorable.
On the street with a spring in his step Danny talked about 10,000 Faces. Amy linked arms with Calvin knowing his saddened heart relished the contact.
‘We’re so much better without Brian,’ Danny said. ‘There was no point being good before. But, without him wrecking our songs, we’re free to be our best.’
‘What did I tell ya?’ Amy said.
‘Can anyone hear a band?’ Calvin asked less eager to join Danny’s optimism.
‘It’s The Dog and Parrot.’
‘Of course,’ said Amy, ‘it’s just reopened under new management.’
‘Let’s go in,’ Danny said energised by the sound of live music.
Amy calculated that going in would mean getting the weight off her heels sooner and having Danny more to herself given how diluted his attention would be in The Lion.
At the top of the stairs, each paid a pound to the girl behind a table collecting entrance fees in an ashtray.
Rounding the corner of the L-shaped room the lads took position midway towards the stage. Amongst the din of drums and guitars Amy perched on a stool. Only able to see the thrashing drummer on his raised stage at the back she turned her attention to the meagre audience.
Pointing, Calvin said through the noise, ‘He looks cool.’
Across the room Amy saw a casually dressed lad perhaps younger than her. With skinny sinewy arms sitting on the wall’s bench seats he wore the slightest Mona Lisa smile and emitted confidence. Amy pouted nodding.
On stage the band boiled in blue or purple teddy-boy-style duster jackets. No one sweated more than the drummer who clenched varnished sticks that flew from his grip with every crashing cymbal. Within a few songs the heat got the better of the band’s wilting quiffs. By the last song the bass player’s hair had stuck to his face covering his eyes. The band finished and thanked the audience who joined in cricket-match-light applause.
Without requests for encores the band unplugged their instruments and left the stage.
‘What d’ya reckon to them?’ Danny asked Calvin.
‘Okay, but I’m looking forward to the next band.’ Calvin stepped aside, allowing them to charge the stage with their equipment. But, when the next couple exited he said, ‘If these guys aren’t local they might be left with just their girlfriends and us.’
‘True, these guys can’t afford to wait building tension like we will one day.’
Danny watched the guitarist dump his oversized Marshall amp on upturned beer crates before attacking a bag of leads. The bass and keyboard players mirrored his frenzy but couldn’t keep ahead of people making for the door.
‘Hey Calvin,’ Amy said, ‘that cute guy you spotted – he’s their drummer.’
Calvin watched the lad coolly carrying his equipment past his bandmates to the back of the stage. He manoeuvred drums then produced the shiniest Paiste cymbals Calvin had ever seen. Before his bandmates had finished tuning he’d set something else up and passed leads to a sound technician. Waiting for the others to catch up he sat at his drum kit wearing huge headphones; sticks at the ready.
Taboo Tortured – the last band, started as Amy wobbled to the bar on stilettos. Unimpressed by how bland they sounded the barman serving her another triple vodka rolled his eyes. I know what you mean, Amy thought before returning to find Danny and Calvin raving.
‘Hey Amy, is this not the most boring band you’ve ever heard?’ Danny shouted through the drab volume.
Having lost her seat Amy stood looking to the stage seeing a bunch of charisma-less thirty somethings. ‘They’re boring alright,’ she agreed. ‘Why the excitement?’
‘The drummer’s fantastic.’
Looking again she saw fabulousness. Wearing headphones she guessed he couldn’t be listening to Taboo Tortured songs. Unfazed by the dwindling numbers he entertained and acknowledged each remaining audience member with a nod or stick-twirl. Calvin looked to Amy for her approval. ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said.
‘Oh man, if we’d a drummer like that we’d be sorted.’ Danny said.
Disappointment set in as Amy conceded she’d lost Danny’s attention. As vodka pickled her thoughts the drummer, though younger and smaller than Danny, became ever more att
ractive.
Two triples later the mind-perverting liquid advised bedding another man would stem her frustration. Danny could wait and pulling that drummer would prove her attractiveness. Maybe she could get him to join 10,000 Faces? Oh yeah, good one vodka, she thought.
For Calvin, the band’s professional sound couldn’t save their songs’ lack of grit. Though the drummer held his attention Calvin noticed disapproving looks followed every drum fill from one instrumentalist or another.
Spotting it too Danny said, ‘He gets cursed like he’s played over their special moment.’
‘Apart from his showmanship and stick-twirling he might be a good drummer if they’d let him play.’
‘His sound is crisp as you like.’
Looking on, the drummer eventually caught Amy’s eye. She gave a coy smile and waved. He winked before looking away.
Scanning the room Amy checked for contenders or girlfriends he might have. She shouted to Danny, ‘I need a seat my feet ache.’ Pointing to benches on the far wall she added, ‘You coming?’ When Danny shook his head Amy thought, Well stuff you, and left him with Calvin before heading to where she’d seen the drummer earlier.
Sitting high on the seat’s back she had a good view and knew the drummer would eventually return for his drum cases. She watched him scope the room. I’m over here. Soon his gaze found her.
Thankfully the band played their final song. They unplugged leads and set to packing without cries for encores. The jukebox played David Bowie’s Let’s Dance, bringing reprieve to the ears of those remaining as Taboo Tortured’s songs drifted from Amy’s memory.
She held her breath as the drummer approached to pick up the first of his drum cases. ‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hello,’ he said with a French accent. ‘Did you enjoy zat?’
‘I thought you were good.’
‘You didn’t like ze band?’
‘Truthfully?’
‘Oui,’ he nodded smiling.
Taking a moment she said, ‘You’re too good for them.’
‘I hear zis often,’ he said taking her remark as a compliment. He left, but soon returned with his boxed snare drum. He picked up his cymbal case.
‘It looks like hot work up there,’ she said thinking how to keep the conversation going. ‘Should I get you some water from the bar?’
‘Zat would be kind. Thank you.’
He could have any girl he wanted, Amy thought as her drunken logic overruled the low opinion she had of herself during sober hours.
She returned with two pints of iced water. ‘Thank you … ?’ the drummer said with an enquiring look.
Guessing his angle she said, ‘Amy.’
‘Ah, sweet name. I’m Raphael.’ He held out his hand for her to shake. As their fingers met he brought her hand to his lips. Amy glanced towards her flatmates and smiled at Calvin who watched.
‘Raphael, meet my flatmates,’ she said beckoning them. ‘Danny, Calvin this is Raphael.’
‘Ah,’ said Calvin crossing the room. ‘Raphael, French or Italian?’
‘French.’
‘I hope you’re not going to kiss my hand,’ he laughed.
‘No,’ he said turning away. ‘And you’re Danny?’
‘Nice one,’ Danny said seeming star struck.
Amy, amused by the lads’ bungled introduction, hid her grin.
‘You’re fortunate to share a flat with Amy,’ Raphael said looking her up and down.
Grinning she said, ‘They’re musicians too. You should hear their songs.’
‘Really?’ He turned back to them. Unable to read him as serious or astonished the lads shrugged bashfully.
Nobody moved. An uncomfortable silence followed. Eventually, seeming mightily unimpressed, Raphael said, ‘Well, nice meeting you. Excuse me whilst I carry on packing.’ He looked at Amy and smiled before returning to the stage.
Danny breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Bit full of himself.’
‘Isn’t he?’ Calvin said sourly. ‘To say he didn’t actually play much in the end.’
‘I know, the recorded percussion did it all,’ Danny said.
Amy let them wander back to their side of the room to prop up the wall where their babbling nonsense became inaudible.
Catching a glance from Danny she gave a quizzical look. I thought you’d want to say more to him. Hadn’t they just been raving about the same musician’s performance?
Beside her again, Raphael packed his multi-knobbed tape machine into polystyrene. Amy asked, ‘So what brings such a handsome Frenchman to England?’
‘My dad’s work; half my life ago. He’s a physicist.’
‘And where do you and your band come from?’
‘South of Hemel.’
Raphael said no more as a hulking man appeared and bellowed at the stragglers to see their drinks off and leave. When he looked at Amy, Raphael said, ‘It’s alright Kev, she’s with me.’
Kev, the landlord, winked and turned his attention to Danny and Calvin. The lads slugged the dregs of their pints.
‘Guess we’re leaving,’ Calvin said before calling to Amy, ‘You coming?’
Amy didn’t know what to say until she felt Raphael’s hand touch hers. ‘I’ll catch you up. Where you going?’
‘Too late for The Lion,’ Danny said to Calvin.
‘See you in the Hippodrome?’ Calvin asked.
Amy agreed and when the lads departed she asked Raphael, ‘So, what happens now?’
‘Now,’ he said, ‘I kiss you.’
She didn’t really want a kiss but knew it meant he liked her and that’s what counted. She closed her eyes. The odd butterfly took flight in her stomach as Raphael’s lips closed on hers.
‘Come on guys,’ the keyboard player shouted.
Amy broke the kiss. ‘I’d better let you finish.’
* * *
Raphael shut the boot of his dad’s Rover 3500. His bandmates agreed their next meeting before leaving Amy alone with him.
‘I missed dinner,’ he said. ‘Can we grab something before ze club?’
Though still full from earlier Amy thought she’d manage some salad to keep him company and suggested the café where Calvin’s dad had taken the lads a fortnight earlier.
‘Luxurious car,’ Amy said as they pulled away.
‘Living with my parents has benefits. I’m insured for both their cars.’
‘Lucky you. So, did you do French at O-Level, bet you walked it?’
‘Not really. I got a C.’
‘Oh,’ Amy said. ‘That’s quite good.’
‘People imagined I’d do better but like most Frenchmen I’m arrogant. I did no work for ze exams.’ Raphael paused then smiling added, ‘Although, Miss McAuley my French teacher, did say my oral was ze best she’d had all day.’
Amy raised her eyebrows. ‘I can imagine.’
‘It’s busy,’ Raphael said pulling up by the café’s windows.
‘I’m sure there’ll be a table.’
Looking at the menu boards Raphael predicted an inferior supper to his mum’s French cuisine. Too hungry to care he ordered burger with chips for himself and salad for Amy. Standing a foot apart he wondered if he’d kissed her too soon. Though clearly she liked him he’d sensed resistance.
Towards the seating area rowdy drinkers broke into disagreement. As arguing lads shoved each other Amy stepped closer to him and said, ‘Fancy making this a takeaway?’
Even in heels she fit neatly beneath his arm. He looked at her pleading expression. ‘My dad won’t like food in ze car.’
* * *
In the Hippodrome Danny and Calvin watched girls dance pretending not to notice the leering guys.
‘That was frustrating,’ Calvin said.
‘I know,’ Danny said gritting his teeth annoyed having cocked-up with the best drummer they’d seen since first picking up guitars years earlier. ‘Okay he’s in a band, so he’s no reason to be interested but it’s still a blow to the ego.’
Wit
h eyes down Calvin felt as dejected as Danny looked. The girls dancing paled into the background not that he’d paid girls attention since Saint Tropez.
‘We weren’t cool,’ Danny said.
‘We weren’t ourselves.’
‘Good point.’ He checked his watch. ‘I don’t think they’re coming. Maybe Amy’ll bring him back to the flat.’
‘Doubt it,’ Calvin said shaking his head. ‘She never does.’
‘True. Why is that?’
‘No idea. She lays ever bloke she comes across but never brings them back.’
‘Probably because her room’s too messy.’
‘She won’t get his number either.’
‘Right, sleeps with them, then drops ‘em like sacks of coal.’
Lifting his head Calvin glimpsed a woman with similar features to Katherine. He looked away fearing she might sully his fading memory of her. He wished she’d given him a photo.
When a further half hour passed with no sign of Amy the lads gave up and headed home. Outside in the street’s warmth Calvin faced the starry sky. He missed France.
Bringing him back to the present Danny said, ‘Whether he loved himself or not he entertained the room.’
‘That drummer?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Bags of personality,’ Calvin said. ‘He really didn’t play much though did he? He just cracked out the same rhythm all night.’
‘We need someone more elaborate given we’re only a three piece band.’
‘Don’t think his dire band gave him room to elaborate.’
‘Maybe. Can’t really blame him for shunning us. By now Amy’s probably throwing everything she’s got at him.’
Ignoring Danny’s crudeness Calvin said, ‘Of course, he’s not rejected us musically, because he hasn’t actually heard our songs.’
‘Good point.’
‘And we’ve a clearer idea of the drummer we’re looking for.’
‘Elaborate, cool and snappy sounding.’ Danny reached for his keys.
‘Mate, we can but dream.’
Inside the flat and at the top of the stairs Danny said, ‘She’s not here.’
‘Not in her room?’
‘Nah, door’s not shut and there’s no light on.’
* * *
Around 4am Danny woke; the beer had migrated to his bladder. Rolling out of bed with one eye cracked open he stumbled through the flat towards the bathroom. Without thought he stepped across the threshold but a shocking smell assaulted him. Forced backwards he slammed the door and stood holding his nose like someone had punched him. Crikey Calvin what did you eat? Thinking back Danny recalled, Amy had cooked. Everyone had eaten the same thing. He pressed his hand into his gut but it seemed fine. No pain, no gurgling. Still he had to go in. Drawing lungs of clean air he re-entered the bathroom. Aw, you could’ve opened the window, he thought standing at the sink tilting it fully. Should’ve removed the outer wall.
