Then suddenly it became dark and a cold draught immersed his body and David was alive; still choking, as he finally fell to the ground with someone struggling beneath him.
‘Get off me, you idiot!’
David was cradled in Tony’s arms as the two of them sprawled on the steps in the corridor. Tony was laughing as he wriggled free and pushed David out of the way. ‘It’s me you fool. I had to drag you out or you’d have started a riot! What in God’s earth were you doing? Why did he hit you?’
‘I don’t know. I only tried to protect the boy. There was a crack and I thought it was a gunshot!’ David sat up and held his hand to his face and, momentarily, closed his eyes.
‘It was a firework, that’s all!’ Tony pushed a handkerchief on David’s lips and dragged him up on to his feet. ‘I think we’d better get you out of here.’
As they left the stadium, silence met them. The singing and chanting, restricted by the height of the roof became a faint muffle and the peace was comforting.
David’s mouth throbbed as the strength of the pain intensified and he felt the warm blood drip from the wound and onto his face. Holding his hand in the sleeve of his jacket and pressing on to the wound, he fumbled in his pocket for another handkerchief. Tony guided David by the arm, but they were stopped as a St John’s Ambulance volunteer asked after his injury and, as the man removed the second handkerchief from David’s mouth, it exposed a jagged wound.
*
The middle-aged landlady saw David’s battered face and surgical sutures and gave them some warning looks. She expected to have trouble with these two lads tonight.
‘Doors are locked at midnight, boys… . No noise and definitely no visitors in the bedrooms!’
David threw his holdall on the bed, went straight to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. He ripped off his blood stained t-shirt, filled the washbasin with hot water and started to scrub his t-shirt clean. As he scrubbed and looked at the pink coloured water in the basin, a wave of dizziness came over him and he had to hold onto the sink, thinking he might faint. He’d done this all before.
‘As soon as you’re ready we’ll go and get some fish and chips.’ Tony shouted.
‘I’m going to lie down, my head’s killing me.’ David muttered, still mesmerised by the pink water.
‘A quick shower and you’ll feel better.’
David knew he wouldn’t.
‘Oh man … I just want a kip.’
‘We’ll have a few beers and then go to a night club.’
David slumped on the bed.
Tony unzipped his holdall and tipped the contents on his bed.
‘You go if you like … . I’ll join you later.’ David said, laying his aching head on a pillow.
‘You’re not sleeping now, Dave.’ Tony persisted.
And he didn’t.
*
Dressed in purple corduroy flares, an orange tie-dye t-shirt, and green velvet jacket, Tony Milton bought his friend a drink. His long ginger hair was now shining and clean and curling down to his shoulders; David was more casually dressed in a red check shirt and jeans.
‘Thank goodness it’s dark in here, you look a pratt.’ David said.
‘We’ll see who looks stupid before the night’s out. You’ll never pull any women dressed like Desperate Dan, and look at the competition!’ Over in the corner by the bar was a group of youths, local lads, of only eighteen or nineteen and all dressed alike in black baggies and white shirts.
David had already seen them and guessed they were eyeing them up for trouble, and knew his blood stained face would attract more problems. He’d already decided to keep his head down tonight.
The flashing lights and the loud music didn’t do much to help David’s headache as the whole of the discotheque floor appeared to throb, despite only a few girls dancing around a group of handbags that were carelessly thrown down on the polished floor. And with the ultra-violet lights, any white on their clothes was illuminated and turned to a translucent purple.
David usually enjoyed music but tonight he was indifferent as Motown and Northern Soul played constantly. The music was to Tony’s liking but perhaps too loud. He would sit for hours at home in his bedroom composing melodies and writing songs, something more bluesy or jazzy than this, and then jamming into the night with his acoustic guitar; the melodies eerily resounding up the valley, and more so if the air was still. When David could hear it up at the farm he always knew Tony’s father was away.
Hopes of becoming a songwriter were as dreams to Tony, but David was always quick to shatter them. He did have to admit some of the songs were good, but said he didn’t live in the real world and that he shouldn’t waste his time thinking of getting anything published, but he knew Tony could do better for himself than working in that little record shop in Keswick.
Tony eyed some of the girls dancing together. They too where all dressed alike: dark coloured mini-dresses, platform shoes, and they all had the same short, feathery hairstyles. But he was particularly attracted to a small blonde-haired girl in a red dress.
‘If she’s not with the mods in the corner, I’ll buy her a drink later. Do you fancy her mate?’ Tony quizzed.
David had already noticed the thin girl dancing, but said, ‘I told you… . No women tonight!’
When the girls came to sit down just behind them, Tony picked up his drink and went across to talk. But David became increasingly anxious about the group of youths. Although it didn’t seem that the girls were with them, David got the feeling that if they didn’t leave, there would be trouble. They were local lads and these were probably local girls, and David knew the rules: Even if we don’t want them, you can’t have them. Keep your hands off them, and if you dare tread on our patch, we’ll have to fight you for it. Lads like these were only here for one thing and although David didn’t want to spoil Tony’s evening, he knew that if they didn’t go now, they would both end up being beaten.
Tony pulled David across to the bar. ‘The thin girl’s got a weird taste in men and fancies a bit of rough, Dave. You’re in luck!’
But as they stood amongst the crowd, jostling to get drinks, two of the mods pushed purposely in front of them. ‘Hey… pretty boy… you want another kiss on that busted lip of yours? Come an ‘av it?’ Their voices grated as one of the youths curled his fist into a knot and held it up to David’s face, as another youth made kissing sounds.
David lowered his head, backed away and ignored them. He’d reacted before and had a few hidings in the past in Blackpool, Carlisle and up at the University, and didn’t want any more. He discreetly tried to pull Tony away and pleaded in a low voice: ‘Let’s get out…. Now! I’ve had enough. My head’s killing me. If we stay any longer, we’ll be back at the hospital.’
‘Are you mad? I’m not going now. The little blonde thinks I’m a rock-star!’
David was exasperated. ‘If you don’t want to leave, that’s fine, but I’m off.’
‘Look… . Let’s bring the girls with us … we can go somewhere quieter. They’re local, maybe they’ll take us back to their place.’
‘No! Either we go together, or I go alone.’
‘Oh, man… . Will you stop this misery! I’m fed up to here with your moods.’ Tony gestured and walked away.
*
It was only 11 o’clock when David left the night-club and walked back through the town, alone. It was a dry night and he hoped the clear air would relieve his headache. He was happy to leave, but worried about his friend, yet Tony would have to take care of himself. These disagreements between the two of them were not new, both knowing that their friendship revolved around the highs and lows of each other’s lives.
He zipped up his jacket and pulled his collar up around his face and, as he walked the little streets of Blackpool, he realised he wasn’t sure where he was going. The rows of boarding houses and hotels all looked alike. He fumbled through his pocket and pulled out his booking slip and the address, and only hoped Tony could remember w
here they were staying when he finally made his way back.
He decided to would walk back along the promenade and guessed it would be quieter, passing just a few drunks staggering about the pavements and some courting couples making their way home. A late-night tram rattled along the sea front, narrowly missing him. He bought a bag of chips and ate them from newspaper as he walked and laughed to himself at Tony’s dilemma, wondering what he would do with the two girls.
He was sorry Tony had lost patience with him and guessed that with his moods recently, it was just how everyone else was feeling. Maybe this was why his mother had been so keen that he should get away, because she was tired of seeing him moping around in his own self-pity.
Safely back at the boarding house, David put the television on, slowly undressed and fell into bed, but was soon bored by the programmes. He then tried to sleep but, as usual, found he couldn’t settle as he was now worrying about Tony.
He considered going back to look for him, but knew they would both be locked out. Sleeping and then wakening, he listened for a while, and in the middle of one of these naps he was disturbed by a noise against the window. David put the light on and, screwing his eyes together, looked at his watch. It was 2:30, am.
David stumbled towards the window and through the lamplight below saw Tony standing there alone. His long hair was blowing about his face, his shirt was half-undone and in disarray, but he was apparently unharmed.
‘Let me in. It’s perishing out here.’ Tony said, half-whispering and half-shouting.
David crept downstairs, wearing nothing but his t-shirt and paisley pyjama bottoms, and quietly tried to unlock the front door. But Tony started to laugh as soon as he got indoors as he saw David’s dishevelled hair and his battered face.
‘Shh … you idiot!’ David whispered and followed Tony back to their room.
‘Oh, man… . You missed out tonight, Dave… . The blonde was called Janet.’ He ripped off his shirt. ‘She only lives just around the corner.’ He unzipped his trousers and struggled to speak as he pulled them over his feet. ‘But the thin girl turned out to be the nicest.’ Then he went to the bathroom and splashed his face with cold water. ‘The mods never bothered me after you left,’ he shouted back, then gargled as he cleaned his teeth. ‘It was you that looked threatening.’ He returned to the bedroom, stretched and patted his stomach. ‘No body’s afraid of a skinny dude like me!’
David slumped back in bed and tried to distance himself. ‘Look mate… . I don’t want to hear anymore, I just want to get some sleep!’
‘You just want to be miserable. I’m brassed off with you. I suppose you want to pack up and go home tomorrow.’ Tony threw a wet towel down on the floor with his clothes.
‘I don’t want to go home!’ David snapped. ‘I never want to go back if I can help it.’ And he threw his head back on his pillows, recalling how uneasy he felt when he was hemmed into the old tower, and his last conversation with Joanne.
Tony stopped what he was doing and realised that this wasn’t just another argument between them. It was hard to control his thinking; he’d had far too much to drink, but could see his friend was unhappy.
He’d thought David would have enjoyed being with the two girls. He always used to.
Tony came and sat on the bed beside him. ‘What do you mean, “You NEVER want to go home”. I thought you loved that farm?’
David pushed himself up in the bed, crossed his arms behind his head and sighed.
‘I hate the place… . I despise it! Everywhere I go I see my dad’s face. It’s like he’s hiding in every field, every wall, every building. Like he’s tormenting me.’ He was starting to raise his voice and Tony gestured with his hand to try to calm him.
‘I’m sorry mate. I didn’t know you felt that way.’ And, instinctively, put his hand on David’s arm.
‘I’m bound to that place now,’ speaking more calmly. ‘Don’t you see, I can never leave, get married and stuff like that. Well, not until Tom grows up, or my mother marries Alan or something stupid.’
‘It’s a good job you’ve got me then, isn’t it?’
Then the sympathy of his friend released something woven inside David; something sharpened like barbed wire, and it was being ripped out. He dropped his head down into Tony’s chest and he sobbed.
Tony had never seen David cry like this before - well, not since they were children, and he felt at a loss to know what to do.
As David’s weeping intensified, Tony held him in his arms like a child and just sat quietly for a while, but David’s breathing became erratic as he let go of his feelings. He guessed this all had to come out, and it did. Months of anguish, fear and sorrow; relief mingled with shame.
‘Shush, SHHH, now. Don’t cry so loud! You’ll waken the whole house. You’re freakin’ me out now mate,’ Tony whispered and pulled away to get David a glass of water.
‘I’m sorry … I’m sorry.’ And David composed himself.
‘Look, don’t be sorry mate… . I’m the one that’s sorry.’
They sat quietly together for some time, before Tony realised that David had fallen asleep on his arm. He gently pulled away from him again, got into his own bed and put out the light, but for him, the thought of imminent sleep had fled.
*
It was David who woke up first and saw that it was 8:50 am. Just ten minutes to get dressed and ready for breakfast.
As he rose from his bed his head pounded even more than last night, and he felt a sharp pain in his lip. Tripping over Tony’s green velvet jacket, which was still lying crumpled on the floor, he went to pull back the curtains.
‘Come on, Superstar. It’s time to get up. You’ve got five minutes. Get your strides on.’ And David threw the corduroy flares at Tony’s face.
Tony cursed as he slowly turned over in his bed and, squinting against the light, took a good look at his friend and with words barely legible, said, ‘Good grief man. You can’t go down for breakfast looking like that.’
David went across to look in the mirror and saw why his face was hurting so much. His right eye was half closed and his cheek badly swollen. His face was now bruised purple and yellow. He touched his cheek gingerly and winced. ‘Well, I’m not missing my breakfast … I’m paying for it!’
Tony, still moaning, slid from the bed and dragging his trousers on, hopped and stumbled about the small bedroom.
The other guests were just leaving when they eventually arrived into the dining room and they got some condescending looks. They took their places at the table, just in time for the landlady to slap down in front of them their breakfast plates. ‘You’re only just in time, lads. There’s your breakfasts and your bill!’
David picked up the half-folded piece of paper. ‘Bill … ? What do you mean the bill? We’re here till Monday.’
‘You might be in Blackpool until Monday, lads, but you’re sleeping under the pier tonight. So enjoy your breakfast, you’ll need it.’
‘Don’t worry, Dave. I know where Janet lives.’ And Tony poured tomato sauce all over his plate of bacon, sausage and eggs.
*
As they packed their bags, David insisted that as soon as they found new lodgings, he would be the one to choose what they did that day. But a walk along the Golden Mile confirmed what he’d already suspected; there wasn’t much to do in Blackpool on a cold January weekend. The thought of his bed at home, the comfort of the sofa in front of the fire; yes, Keld Head, with all its misgivings, was the place he wanted.
Most of the arcades were closed, except for a few bingo halls, and David didn’t want to waste his money in there. Then Tony wanted to have his fortune told, but once again David dragged him away. ‘We’ll go up the Tower! We’ve never been up the Tower.’
‘As long as you don’t try and jump off.’ And Tony froze, immediately realising his comment was unkind and unfeeling and wanted to take it back. But a wry smile came on David’s face. ‘Well, if I jump, you must promise to wear that green velvet jacket and
those purple kecks at my funeral!’
*
The metal lift trundled its way slowly to the top, climbing five hundred or so feet in the process. The climb silenced them for a while as they both leant anxiously on the sides of the lift for support.
At first they found the view overwhelming as they wandered around the platform in silence, trying to acclimatise and adjust to the height. They leant on the rails and looked over through the grill. They could see the whole of Blackpool and beyond; the little trams going up and down the promenade; the colourful rides on the Pleasure Beach; The Big Wheel and The Big Dipper.
‘Look. I can see Janet’s house from here!’ Tony pointed.
‘Yes, and I can see yours,’ David was looking north towards the Cumbrian fells on the horizon.
Today the fells looked welcoming. Their soft green slopes were a gentle contrast to the harsh red brick and grey concrete buildings of Blackpool below. Even the distant snow-capped mountains looked calming, like soft meringue covering a cake.
The resplendence of his home county tempted David; it wasn’t Lakeland’s fault his family had problems. At least he would have his troubles in one of the most beautiful places in the country, and that would be some consolation. His head felt clearer from unburdening his mind to Tony; saying things he thought he’d never say. And David remembered his promise to look after his family, and knew he could keep it.
‘Look, Dave …’ Tony pointed. ‘I can see Alan Marsh in the paddock. And is that your mother holding his hand?’
*
On the train home on Monday lunchtime, David felt well. He’d slept better on the last night, and the fresh seaside air and a good meal had restored him. Shopping in the town, they’d managed to buy some gifts: little white chalk images of Blackpool Tower for Tom and Sarah, a bottle of perfume for his mother, a glass snow scene globe with Blackpool Tower in it for Joanne, and a small bottle of whisky for Alan.
Northern Spirit Page 9