by Mel Sparke
“A bit,” she replied. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once they come on. It’s pathetic really; anyone would think it was me having to get up there on stage in front of everyone, not Ollie.”
“They’ll be great,” Maya enthused, linking her arm with Kerry’s. “I’m dead excited. I’ve never known anyone in a proper band before.”
“You can go around telling everyone you’re with the band,” grinned Matt as he opened the door. “It’s a great pulling line.”
“Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Sonja smirked. “It’s a good job Gaby’s got you in check or you’d be a complete nightmare tonight.”
Matt put his arm protectively around Gabrielle’s shoulder and pulled her towards him as she kissed him hello. Looking up at him, she gave him a little smile and he kissed her again on the top of the head.
“Ignore them,” he whispered, giving her a little squeeze. “You know how I feel about you.”
“You are coming tonight, aren’t you, Anna?” Kerry asked as they walked past her as she finished cleaning a table.
“Yeah, but I won’t finish up here until gone nine,” she replied. “What time are they on?”
“About ten.”
“OK, I’ll see you all there.”
The gang trooped out of the café and made their way noisily along the street to the less than sold-out gig.
CHAPTER 9
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
“Five minutes, lads.”
Derek, the landlord of the Railway Tavern, poked his head around the door and gave them the thumbs up. Then he disappeared again, leaving Ollie, Joe, Billy and Andy in various stages of nervousness as they prepared for their performance.
Joe turned to the others and gave them a weak smile. His face was drained, even paler than normal, and his hands shook as he read through the band’s running order for the hundredth time. He’d played live enough times before, but tonight felt important and worthy of more nerves than normal: if no one was interested in listening to The Loud, this nice little residency would soon be up the spout.
Constantly buttoning and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, Billy paced the dressing room -which was difficult really, seeing as it doubled up as a store room. He only had to take a few strides from one side before he hit a pile of cardboard boxes or a fridge or a vacuum cleaner. He hummed the tune of their opening song relentlessly and repetitively as he walked.
Andy watched absent-mindedly from a chair and tuned and retuned his bass guitar, tapping his foot up and down on the stone floor to a melody inside his head.
Ollie pulled on his T-shirt and then sprawled across a decrepit sofa that had half its ancient stuffing spilling from a large hole to one side. He had his eyes shut and a peaceful look on his face. He seemed totally oblivious to the movement going on around him.
When he heard the door open again, he barely managed to open one eye to see who it was. When he realised it was only his Uncle Nick, he drifted off again, back to playing Wembley Stadium in his head.
“OK, lads, time to get moving,” said Nick cheerfully, clapping his hands.
“Urn, are there many people out there?” Andy asked.
“Don’t worry, Andy,” beamed Nick. “There are enough to keep Derek happy, you can be sure of that. You boys just concentrate on blowing everyone away, eh? Are we all ready then?”
Ollie hauled himself out of his comfy position and joined his mates who were standing in an orderly line behind Nick. He exited through the door and strode along the dim corridor towards the stage.
The others followed meekly behind.
Anna hugged her coffee mug and took another bite of the cheese and ham toastie she’d made herself. Between wrapping up at the café for Nick and rushing to get herself changed and ready to go out to the gig, she didn’t have time to eat anything more substantial.
Now, as the clock on the wall showed her it was nearly ten o’clock, it occurred to her to sneak in yet another quick call to Owen before she ran down to watch the band. She needed to know when he was arriving so that she could plan ahead for the surprise mini-party she and her friends were going to spring on him.
The phone rang and rang, unanswered.
Anna was beginning to get worried. Where was Owen? Why didn’t his flatmate pick up the phone? Why wasn’t the answering machine switched on?
Maybe someone else might know where he was. Anna took a deep breath and dialled their mother’s number.
Shouldn’t be too late, she thought to herself, glancing at the clock again.
She and her mother had spoken briefly on the phone a couple of times since her mother’s visit to Winstead a few weeks back, but although they were trying to heal the rift between them, Anna found it hard work. She still preferred it when Owen acted as go-between.
Margaret Michaels answered the phone immediately and sounded pleased when she realised it was her daughter on the line. They chatted amicably for a few moments, before Anna finally got around to the real reason she was calling.
“Mum, I’ve been trying to contact Owen for days,” she said, “but there’s no reply. You don’t know what he’s up to, do you?”
“He’s away on a training course,” her mother explained.
“Oh, right. He never mentioned it. I was starting to get worried since no one ever seemed to be in.”
“Well, I hear his flatmate is courting so hasn’t spent much time there recently. Owen’s a right one for forgetting to switch that answering machine of his on. They didn’t tell you where he was at work?”
“I didn’t like to call him there, not with it being a new job and everything.”
“Oh, I don’t think they would mind too much,” her mum replied confidently. “He’s getting on very well by all accounts, and of course he loves it. But you probably already know that. Actually, Anna…”
She hesitated before carrying on.
“I was going to call you myself. I wondered if you’d be able to come home at all this Christmas? It would be lovely to see you, and Owen is coming for a few days so you’d have him for company. I know you’ve got your own flat and lots of friends, but even if you could only spare a day or so, it would be so lovely to see you, dear, it really would.”
Anna was taken aback. What did she mean about Owen going home? Not according to Sonja he wasn’t.
Then realisation struck Anna: Owen couldn’t have told their mum he wasn’t going home yet, just as he couldn’t have told her that Anna wouldn’t be visiting either. Anna didn’t know what to say.
She suddenly felt sorry for her mother. She imagined her making all sorts of plans for the Michaels’ Christmas family reunion, blissfully unaware that neither of her children were intending to spend it with her.
Calling me ‘dear’, for God’s sake, after all she’s called me in the past, Anna thought sadly.
“Anna? Are you still there?”
Anna had to think fast.
“Yes, I’m still here,” she said quietly. “Uh, can you leave it with me for a day or so, Mum? I’m not sure what’s happening with the café. My boss might be keeping it open for a lot of the holiday, in which case I’ll have to work. I need the money. But as soon as I know, I’ll call you. Promise. Is that OK?”
It was a lie, but it was all she could think of and her mother accepted the explanation with good grace. Anyway, Anna wasn’t brutal enough to blurt out the truth. She needed to talk to Owen; they should decide between them the best way to handle this.
As Anna came off the phone she felt like the bad guy in a soap opera. She looked over at the clean clothes she’d just dug out to change into and realised miserably that she was in no mood to go out and be sociable now.
Because I’m going to have a good Christmas, it means my mum’s has to be full of disappointment, she worried guiltily.
Pulling her curtains closed, Anna wished with all her heart that Christmas could just be cancelled…
CHAPTER 10
DISTANT PUNTERS
The gang stood at the bar of the Railway Tavern taking in their surroundings. It wasn’t the smartest place in the world - with its Formica-topped tables and fake brass lighting that had seen better days, it was certainly more of a dive than Ollie’s parents’ pub. The bar ran along one end of the pub, then the tables lined two walls, with the stage set up in one corner.
All the tables were occupied and there was a handful of people already congregating at the front of the stage, waiting for the band to come on. Kerry guessed there must be thirty or forty people there; not bad, but not brilliant either. At least the gang were there to support Ollie and the boys.
She was slightly bugged to see that Cat hadn’t shown her face yet. Everyone else was there (apart from Anna who was probably rushing to get ready); and Cat had promised faithfully to come along.
But no sooner had she thought bad things about her, than Kerry saw Cat sweep through the pub towards them at great speed, an enormous grin on her face, and looking very different from the au naturel vision that Kerry and Sonja had encountered the previous evening.
Cat had piled her blonde hair on top of her head to give a messy bird’s nest appearance, and her heavily made-up face was coloured in all shades of violet - lips, eyes and cheeks, with a liberal sprinkling of purple glitter to finish it off. She wore a fluffy, candyfloss cardie, held together across her chest by two large, heart-shaped clips, and skin-tight white pedal-pushers. Chunky white shoes finished the look off.
Subtle was not the word.
“Hey! Everyone! Listen! You’ll never guess what!” she hollered as she bounded up to the group.
“What’s that, Cat?” Maya asked, smiling at the bouncing vision in front of her.
“I’m gonna be in Cinderella! Me! Can you believe it?”
“Cinderella. Right,” Matt said slowly. “Er, Cat, what are you talking about?”
Cat looked around the sea of confused faces and put one hand to her forehead in exasperation. How could they not understand what she was going on about?
“Cinderella,” she repeated. “At Christmas. The college pantomime. You know, the one I’ve been doing the make-up for? Well, they’ve only offered me a part in the show. Me! Isn’t it the best?”
“Cat, that’s great for you,” enthused Maya generously. “Erm, what sort of part is it?”
“An Ugly Sister, of course!” Matt snorted.
“Haven’t you got to go and twiddle some knobs on that sound desk before the band starts?” Maya said sternly to Matt. “Ignore him, Cat. What part have you got?”
Catrina looked round at the group of faces staring at her - Sonja and Matt still sniggering at his stupid remark.
Suddenly, she decided that there was no way she was going to have the others mock what she was doing. It was hard enough knowing she’d have to win round most of the rest of the cast of the panto itself, without having to suffer silly jibes from her so-called mates.
Let’s just see their faces on the night, she thought to herself, imagining her friends’ stunned expressions when they saw her walk out on stage as the star of the show. Until then, she decided, she was keeping her true identity under wraps.
“It’s no big deal; just a bit part in the crowd,” she shrugged. “You probably won’t even be able to see me…”
“Well, we won’t bother coming then,” Matt blundered tactlessly on, a dopey smile plastered across his face.
“Matt!” Gabrielle hissed at her boyfriend, before smiling over at Cat. “I’m looking forward to going. The profits are for charity, aren’t they?”
“That’s right,” Cat nodded. “And I’ve got a wodge of tickets in my bag tonight which I’m hoping you’ll all buy!”
“Of course,” said Kerry, already rifling in her bag for money.
She needn’t have hurried herself.
“Ooh, look!” Cat exclaimed. “Maya! Over there!”
“What?” asked Maya, peering into the shadowy recesses of the pub and trying to figure out what Cat was on about.
“Come on!” instructed Cat, still holding Maya’s hand and trying to drag her across the pub.
“Cat, what is it?” Maya cried, confusion all over her face.
“It’s the tasty boys! The ones who’ve been hanging around at the End. “You know, whass-theirnames? Rudi and Marc, the Swedish boys.”
“Ah, yes, you mean the Dutch boys,” Maya said, looking into the distance and finally picking out the two boys.
“Come on,” Cat instructed. “Let’s go and chat them up and see if I can flog them some tickets at the same time.”
“What do you need me for?” asked Maya reluctantly. She knew the lads to say hello to, but that was as far as it went.
“Their English still isn’t that hot. I need you as interpreter!”
“I can’t speak Dutch!” Maya tried to argue.
As far as Maya could see, Cat’s world-class flirting was bound to overcome any language barrier she might hit.
“Come on - you’re the only really swotty friend I’ve got. Come and help me persuade them!” whined Cat.
With that dubious compliment, she pulled a reluctant Maya off in the direction of the two boys.
Kerry stood with the rest of the gang near the front of the stage and bit her lip anxiously. The Loud were a third of a way into their set and, so far, most of the people in the pub seemed more intent on downing their beer or talking to their mates than watching the band. Of the people listening to the music, the majority were kids who hung out at the End or people Kerry recognised from St Mark’s sixth form.
She wanted to shout out to everyone to shut up and listen. Instead, she tried to overcompensate by dancing overenthusiastically to every track. It wasn’t that the band were playing badly - they weren’t - but they were having trouble getting everyone’s attention.
So far, their set had consisted of mainly upbeat stuff - sort of Blur meets Supergrass - but, in a flash of inspiration after the fifth song and still no movement from the audience apart from Kerry’s sterling efforts, OIlie turned to the others and motioned that they change the running order.
They took the pace right down and began a haunting ballad which started with just Andy on bass guitar and OIlie speaking the first few lines of the song.
The reaction from the audience was instant; a hush came over the place as people previously more interested in talking among themselves took notice of the band for the first time that evening.
Maya came over and touched Kerry’s arm.
“I love this one,” she sighed. “What is it again?”
“It’s Distant Lovers,” Kerry replied, then added ruefully, “remember?”
Maya nodded. “Ah, yes,” she said, “of course.”
It was a song Kerry wasn’t overly fond of. A while back when she and Ollie hadn’t been getting along so well, she had read the lyrics to it and mistakenly come to the conclusion that Ollie had written it about the love he felt for his ex-girlfriend, Elaine. Eventually, she believed him when he said it was completely made up.
What she didn’t realise was that the song had actually been written by Joe, who secretly penned most of the band’s material. He was too shy to let the world know what went on inside his head, and was more than happy to let Ollie take the credit for the songs.
But what neither Ollie nor his girlfriend knew was that Distant Lovers had been written about someone in particular. When Ollie stood at the front of the stage, closed his eyes and crooned the words to a gripped audience, he was really singing Joe’s feelings of longing out loud. Feelings of longing for the girl he could never have.
Kerry.
Unaware of the confusion of emotions behind it, the captivated crowd listened intently as the final strains of Andy’s bass echoed through the room, before roaring their approval.
For the first time that evening Ollie’s face broke out into a grin. Now that he had their attention, he knew the rest would be easy.
“Oh, Ollie, you were brilliant, I’m so proud of you.”
Kerry reached up and kissed Ollie gently on the lips. Sliding his hand round her waist he pulled her towards him and they kissed again, though this time it was a lingering, romantic, proper kiss that Kerry wanted to go on for ever.
They stood in the dark at Kerry’s front gate. It was gone midnight; long after the band had finished their set, she had hung around while the boys cleared up their equipment and talked to Derek and Nick. Matt had taken most of the gear away in his car with a little assistance from Joe, leaving Ollie free to give Kerry a ride home on his treasured Vespa which, for once, was miraculously working.
“It wasn’t so bad, was it?” mused Ollie. “Not once we got everyone’s attention. I tell you though, at one point I thought we were gonners. We were dying up there; no one was listening.”
“I know. I was so angry I wanted to run on stage and grab the microphone to shout at everyone to shut up,” Kerry chuckled. “But once you made them listen, the rest was brilliant.”
“We could have done with a few more bums on seats,” continued Ollie, leaning against the Bellamys’ front wall and folding his arms across his chest, “but I suppose it could have been worse. You might have been the only one there.”
“Was Derek disappointed with the turn-out?”
“Not really. Or at least I don’t think so. He never said anything and he didn’t cancel our gig next Thursday, so I guess he must have been pretty happy. Did the others say anything to you about what they thought?”
Kerry came up to him and unfolded his arms, placing herself between them and his warm body. “Everyone - even those two Dutch lads - said how amazing you all were,” she smiled, looking up at him adoringly. “Except for Cat, who was too busy trying to flog tickets for her pantomime to everyone there.”
Ollie laughed. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Cat wouldn’t be Cat if she didn’t try her luck. ‘Specially if she spotted people who were worse the wear for beer and easy targets for her.”
“It wouldn’t have been so bad except that she dragged Maya off too, to help her in her campaign to sell out the performance single-handed,” Kerry went on.