by Jim Bennett
‘What brings you outside on a lovely day like this?' he said. He placed a hand on Julie’s arm so that she couldn’t rush away from him without pulling him off kilter.
‘Just up to the shop and back. Got to pick up a few bits’.
‘It’s my lucky day then’. He left his arm on Julie’s, but relented when it became clear that he wouldn’t be able to maintain the physical contact and operate the crutches. ‘You can help an old man to the bus stop’.
Julie would have been content to continue walking in silence together. However, from previous experience, she knew that Brian would continue to try and woo her if she left any gap in the conversation.
‘What are you doing in town?'
‘You know what it’s like for a man of the world, my love. People to see, things to do, deals to put in motion'.
‘I don’t know what it is that you do for work. When you don’t have a broken leg I mean’. There was a suspect white van that remained parked outside of Brian’s house most hours of the day. Now that Julie thought about it, she hadn’t ever seen him arriving or leaving in it. It just remained there as a permanent staple of the street.
‘A bit of whatever there is going sweetheart. People like me make the world go round’.
‘You think you’re going to be well enough to work soon then?'
‘I live in hope, my love. I live in hope'.
‘But Jack’s been helping you out in the garden? Helping you keep it tidy?’
‘He is’, he said with noticeably less enthusiasm. An awkward silence followed.
‘Sorry, did I say something wrong?’
‘It’s not easy to admit that you’re getting old', he said after a pause of a few moments. ‘Especially when the fit young thing helping you is living with the girl of your dreams’.
Julie was surprised to find that she was feeling sorry for Brian. This was a new sensation for her. The only two emotions that she normally associated with him were irritation and revulsion. She paused on the pavement, and waited for Brian to do the same.
‘We all get ill sometimes. You just need to remember that it’s okay to ask for help'.
‘I’ll do that my darling’, he said, his normal bonhomie returning with a vengeance. ‘Don’t you worry, next time I need the slightest thing, I’ll be knocking on your door straight away’.
Julie waited with Brian at the bus stop. It was not out of any desire whatsoever to spend more time with him, but because the idea of him undressing her with his eyes as she walked away made her feel physically ill. There was a delay after Brian had boarded.
He dislodged the elderly couple sitting in the first row, insisting that he wouldn’t be able to reach the seats in the middle of the bus.
In front of the shops, there was a group of teenagers. They all looked like cheap facsimiles of one another in their jogging bottoms and designer caps. Their bikes were lying on the floor to their front and they leaned with menacing intent against the wall behind them. One of their number, who appeared to be a few years older than the rest, was clearly their leader. He had the beginnings of facial hair, although it definitely still needed some work. It was patchy in most places, and only really visible on the very bottom of his chin and his upper lip. There was also a splattering of acne on his brow, the remnants of his earlier, greasier years.
Julie could feel their eyes on her from a hundred metres away. Her clothes didn’t feel large enough all of a sudden, and she pulled at the front of her top, hoping that it was covering her midriff adequately.
They continued to map her progress as she approached the shop. The group had positioned themselves in front of the ramp that led up to the electric doors of the shop front. It made it necessary for customers to pass within a few inches of them. It was only when Julie was directly in front of them that the ringleader started to make kissy noises, making her flinch. The others began to snigger under their breath and whisper what Julie expected were lude comments to each other.
Inside the front doors of the shop, Mr Baker, the proprietor, was standing sentry.
‘Did they give you any hassle?' Mr Baker asked gruffly.
‘Just kids being kids’, Julie replied. They didn’t seem like the kind of kids who would react well to being reprimanded by an old shopkeeper. Besides, Julie came in here at least a few times a week, and couldn’t be doing with the hassle.
‘Didn’t used to be like this in my day. Children had a bit more respect’. Mr Baker continued to chunter to himself, but Julie had walked out of earshot. She didn’t expect that he needed an audience to keep up the diatribe.
On the way out of the shop, the eldest of them caught her eye and gave her a cocky little smile. She turned her eyes back to the ground. With cheese, pickle and the obligatory bottle of pinot grigio in hand, Julie returned to the house. She had barely had a chance to put her shopping bag down before Jack came running into the kitchen.
‘Where have you been', Jack said, walking towards her and wrapping his arms around her.
She was going to make a passive aggressive comment about having to buy some replacement cheese, but he didn’t give her a chance.
‘I’ve got big news’. Jack held Julie away from him at arm's length, beaming into her face. Jack’s whole life sometimes felt like a performance, and this was no exception. It was clear that he wasn’t going to tell her until she prompted him.
‘Tell me?'
‘Johnny just rang from the bar. Someone has dropped out for tonight. They’re going to let me go on'. She wondered how he would feel if his hip young friends could see him in such an obvious state of ecstacy over this marginal achievement.
His enthusiasm was infectious. Julie couldn’t help smiling at him.
‘That is fantastic. You must be so happy’.
‘Well, you know. Not a big deal’. He disengaged from her and started to regain his original cool. ‘I’ve told you before. It’s not about performing. It’s about the energy that you put into the world. If my music can help other people, then yeah, of course I’m happy to do it’.
‘Well, well done you’. She squeezed his arm, and then went about unpacking the shopping. ‘You’ll have to tell me how it goes’.
‘What, you’re not coming?' There was an anxiety in his voice that she hadn’t expected.
‘I don’t think I would really fit in. I haven’t been to a bar in years’.
‘All the more reason then’. He moved to position himself in front of her.
‘Jack, you don’t want some middle aged woman hanging around embarrassing you in front of your friends. I’ve got work tomorrow, I can’t go traipsing into London and getting home at God knows what hour’.
He moved half a step closer to her. ‘So what if you’re middle aged? You’re not dead. What’s the point in being alive if you’re not going to live? Come on, when was the last time that you went to work hungover?'
Julie didn’t want to admit how often this had been the case, so gave him a little smile in lieu of an answer.
‘Come on, it won’t be the same if you’re not there'. He gave her another winning smile.
‘I don’t think I can walk to the station in this heat’. Julie said, grasping for any excuse now.
‘I’ll pay for the taxis. My treat'.
‘I’m not staying out past ten’. Julie tried to instil some authority in her voice, although didn’t think she managed it. ‘And I’m only having two glasses of wine’.
‘Great, great, great!’. He almost shouted the last word. ‘I’ll tell Johnny to put your name down at the door’. Jack left Julie standing in front of the open fridge wondering whether it was too early in the day to open the wine.
Chapter Six
So many different reasons as to why this had been a mistake presented themselves to Julie all at once.
As promised, Jack had paid for their taxi to the station, and had even splashed out on some little bottles of wine for the journey. They had sat on a table of four, drinking and laughing together. It had made Juli
e feel young again. She had positioned herself so that she couldn’t see her reflection in the window, not wanting the stark reminder of her aged face.
They had got off the train at Kings Cross, and walked the short distance to the bar together. Before they walked inside, Jack had stopped her for a moment and taken her hand. Julie wasn’t sure whether she felt like a mother or a lover or something in between. Regardless, it had been nice to be wanted in whatever guise.
As soon as they had walked inside, one of the most beautiful women that Julie had ever seen grabbed Jack by his shirt and tugged. She slid her hand down his arm until their digits were interlocked, leading him away from Julie into the modest crowd.
Initially, Julie had taken a few steps to follow, but had lost him almost immediately. On reflection, she realised that they made such an incongruous pair that the young woman hadn't even noticed that they were here together.
Standing there alone, she felt painfully awkward. She decided to engage in the only activity available to her, and made her way to the bar to get a drink.
The bartender gave her a small nod of the head upwards. He was much in the same ilk Jack, except his hair was longer, and tied in a messy knot on top of his head. Some parts of his face had metal studs through them. Julie thought the unpleasantness of suffering through the piercing was definitely not worth the resulting aesthetic.
‘Could I have a glass of pinot grigio please?' she asked timidly.
Without giving her a second look, he went to fetch her drink. Wine in hand, Julie turned away from the bar and considered her next steps. She felt absolutely ridiculous. No, more than that. No one was even giving her the due consideration to make her feel ridiculous. She felt insignificant. Hoping not to make awkward eye contact with anyone, she stared down at her drink. The issue with that was that she was forced to look at the outfit she had chosen for the night's jollities. After much consideration, she had opten for a simple, white blouse and the most flattering pair of denim jeans that she owned. Only now, her shirt felt frumpy and the jeans looked desperately tight. As soon as she was able to determine where the band would be performing, she would move to the other side of the room to keep herself away from any judging eyes.
Jack reappeared in front of her looking irritated.
‘Emergency in the bathroom’, he said. ‘Bloody hell, you think they could give me a night off. Do you want a drink?'
Before she could answer, Jack had turned round to address the man behind the bar. Julie finished the wine in her glass in one satisfying gulp and placed the empty on a nearby table.
‘It’s nice here’, Julie said to Jack as he put the large glass of white in her hand.
‘Yeah, it’s alright’, Jack said grumpily. She noticed a wet patch on the knee of his intentionally scruffy jeans, but thought it was best not to mention it.
‘Do you get on with people you work with?' She wasn’t sure why she was desperately trying to coax a conversation out of him when he so clearly wasn’t in the mood.
He started to answer her, but his response was drowned out by the heavy drum section of the first band. It had a sort of inoffensive indy rock quality to it. You could forgive the slightly rough and amateur aspect of anything when those who were performing it were so enthusiastic. The alcohol didn’t hurt either. Julie found herself swaying to the tune, perhaps not quite in time but in a way that hopefully wouldn’t embarrass Jack. She looked over to him. He was leaning against the bar, his face impassive.
The band cycled through their tracks, all of which sounded fundamentally the same. Jack made his way through his drink with a steady determination. Each time he bought another, he would place an accompanying glass in Julie’s hand. She would have protested and offered to pay for a round, but she was too busy trying to finish the previous drink. By the time the first band had finished their set, Julie was much more vocal in her appreciation.
‘That was great’, she said as the next act started to set up their instruments. ‘Don’t you think that was great?'
Jack turned to look at her. ‘It was okay Julie. They’re not the fucking Beatles’.
‘Oh, well I liked them’.
‘You don’t get out much though, do you?' Jack said, returning his attention to the stage.
Not really being able to refute that, Julie took a large sip of her drink.
The second band began to play in a very similar style to the first. Julie felt less elated now, more vacant. The novelty of the situation had worn off. She felt desperate to finish this sad little episode in her life and to go home.
A man of about Julie’s age parked himself on the bar stool next to her. It momentarily wobbled dangerously on two legs, before correcting itself with a bang. A few members of the audience in the direct vicinity jumped, and then scowled at the responsible party before returning their attention to the band.
The man was wearing the garb of the city that had been the fashion 20 years ago. There were pin stripes on his suit and his tie was fat. He still had a dark, full head of hair, which was brushed back and set with a lacquer of some type or another. On this bright summer evening, he was incongruously carrying a golf umbrella. The strap holding it together was disengaged and she could easily read the words ‘Jerryman Bloors', printed across the dark waterproof fabric with a white lion featured underneath them.
Julie was expecting a clumsy come on. After all, sloppy blokes like him were the only ones who showed any interest in her. But he was only interested in the music. Some prescient member of the serving staff had made the wise decision to only provide him with a plastic cup. At the end of every song, he would grip it between his teeth so he could applaud. After one number that he was especially keen on, he managed to splash beer down his front, the beaker bobbing up and down vigorously.
'Thank you', the young man on stage said when they finished playing. He pushed the long hair out of his eyes, which immediately fell back into his face. 'This is our last number. But we've been the Big Town Cats'. He paused in anticipation of a modest round of applause, although the look on his face suggested it was more modest than he would have liked. 'Up next, we have the talented Jack Johnson'.
‘Harper', Jack shouted from where he stood next to Julie.
'Yeah, whatever mate. Everyone else, you've been great. This one is called 'My Baby Can Do No Better'.
They counted it off and fell into a track indistinguishable from their last. Jack turned his back on them and tried to catch someone's eye at the bar. The chap who had first served Julie was now chatting up Jack's lady friend from earlier on. Both were oblivious to him, casually flirting despite the growing crowd of customers waiting for drinks.
Jack slammed his hands on the bar. It was barely audible over the sound of the music. His hands curled into fists and he banged them down once again. When this still failed to elicit the desired effect, he lent over the bar and began to serve himself. After he had filled up Julie’s glass in haste, he started to pull his own pint. Clearly the young man wasn't as unaware of Jack's presence as he was pretending to be. He broke off his conversation, marched over to Jack and turned the tap off mid flow. Jack attempted to shove him but couldn't reach his shoulder. If their facial expressions were anything to go by, they exchanged a few angry words before the beautiful young woman could intercede. She put a hand on Jack's adversary's shoulder and lent in to say something in his ear. He gave Jack one last dirty look, and then disappeared into a back room. Jack and the woman then started to argue with one another.
The band on stage finished their last song. The perfunctory applause that followed was interrupted by the pair squabbling.
'That's what not together means. I can do whatever the fuck I like', the young woman shouted.
'Do whoever the fuck you like you mean', Jack said, with a nasty sneer.
The look of disgust that she gave Jack transformed her pretty face entirely. Her nostrils became slits and her eyes narrowed. At that moment, a slightly older and more respectable member of staff stepped out
from behind the stage. He scanned the room until his eyes rested on Jack.
‘Harper', he said across the room. Jack didn’t respond or look around.
Jack and the young woman continued to stare at each other.
‘Get on stage now if you’re coming'. All of a sudden, Jack lost interest in her. He leant over the bar again, picked up his half filled pint and strutted over to the stage.
Julie watched Jack as he plugged in his guitar and began to position his microphone stand. She felt an odd sense of detachment from the events that had just unfolded before her. She reflected absentmindedly on how much she had actually drank this evening, and how painful it was going to be to get up for work tomorrow morning.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she feared that it was the boozy bloke next to her finally making his move. She was surprised to find it was the young woman, her eyes now wet. Even when on the verge of the tears, she really was very attractive. It was the kind of face that you would only expect to find in the company of celebrities or greek statues. Its only off putting quality was a small metal piercing directly in the middle of the bridge of her nose. The idea of the stud scraping on the bone below made Julie wince.
Expecting that she was going to be asked to pay for the drink that Jack just stole, Julie went to rummage in her bag for her purse. Before she could start looking, the woman tapped her on the shoulder again a little more insistently.
‘Is he your son?’
‘Not really. I mean, no. Sorry, I’ve had a bit to drink’.
The woman looked at Julie confused.
‘He’s my son’s friend. He’s staying with me'.
The woman gave Julie a slow nod, taking the information in.
‘Jack’s not very nice. You know, to women’.
‘Did he hit you?' Julie asked, shocked.
‘The worst ones don’t have to hit you'.
Julie didn’t have time to ask what she meant. Jack’s music started and made any further conversation impossible. Unfortunately, being on stage hadn’t improved Jack’s mood. He had a face of thunder as he played the sweet introductory melody that he had showcased for Julie earlier that afternoon.