I wished we could stay in Scotland longer. But we had another gig in another town. We made it to York in plenty of time and went straight to the club for sound check. I needed an art store.
Ryan dug a pass from his faded denim jacket and handed it to me. “Be back in an hour or we’re leaving without you,” he threatened.
“We aren’t leaving without her, Ryan,” Keith intervened. “Leave her alone.”
Ryan glared at him. “You were more bloody fun before you got married.”
I was heartened that Keith stood up to me. We parted with a quick kiss and I dashed off. York was stunning. Outside the club the remains of a medieval city wall arched over the road. As I walked, I came upon a busker. whose vocal accompaniment was his dog. As he played, his dog whaled. I wanted to watch, but had to hurry on. The art store was on a street so narrow the residents could have reached from their windows to shake hands with their neighbor across the street.
It didn’t take me long to find what I needed, pay for my loot and return to the club just as the sound check was ending.
When we finally left the club and were back in our hotel, I pulled out my brushes and opened a bottle of cleaner.
Keith immediately opened the two windows. “That smell is ghastly.”
“Coming from someone who smokes a pack a day, I’m surprised you have any sense of smell.”
Keith simply rolled his eyes and settled down with his acoustic guitar.
“We have the day off tomorrow. Are we staying here?”
“Our next stop is Grimsby. I won’t spend more time there than I fucking need to. Ryan said the bloke booking shows there saw us play the Borderline and wanted us to play his club. I pray my dad doesn’t show.”
“Does he know the name of your band?”
“I’m sure Louisa’s told him.”
“Are you planning to never see or speak to your parents?”
“Since they’ve been out of my life, you came along, my band has done great and no nightmares. I can’t think of any reason to let them back in.”
“Other than they’re your parents.”
“That’s my misfortune.”
I didn’t pursue it. I put away my brushes, then dug out my old pink mini skirt, my Union Jack shirt and some black leggings and pink ankle boots. I went to the bathroom to add more black mascara to hide the red in my lashes, before applying a deep crimson lipstick. I tied my hair into a ponytail with an over sized pink bow with black polka dots, adding my Westwood skull earrings.
Keith broke into a wide grin when I emerged. “You’re so bloody sexy.” He wrapped me in his arms and we began snogging. Things started getting heavy when Keith ran his hand up my skirt
“We can’t start anything now,” I giggled. “We won’t make the show in time.”
“I’ll hold these thoughts if you will.”
We kissed again before we headed out.
We found a quiet pub to have dinner and I ordered a large cup of tea, inhaling the steam. Keith ordered two beers in the course of the hour.
At the club later I furiously drew more postcards while the opening band played. I was seriously behind in my quota having spent so much time resting due to my cold.
At long last The Piss Ants were introduced. “Ladies and Gentlemen, are you ready to see the hottest act in London?”
The crowd exploded with raucous cheers.
Ryan didn’t come so I gathered my postcards, stashed everything in boxes and shoved them under the table.
The announcer worked the crowd into a frenzy, having them yell, “Piss Ants! Piss Ants! Piss Ants!”
I hurried backstage.
“Where’s the stuff?” Ryan asked.
“At the sales table stashed where no one should see it. Did you forget me?”
“No, I got delayed. Where’s the fucking lock box? Did you leave it unattended?”
“It’s hidden in the bottom of a t-shirt box.”
“Are you daft?”
“I didn’t know what else to do when you didn’t come.”
“Fuck! I’ll have to get it. Find your own way to the front. Why do I fucking have to do everything?”
“Because you’re the manager,” I yelled as he took off. I hoped he heard me.
I set my postcards on a table and headed out. The band waited off stage as the announcer taunted the crowd. I tried squeezing close to the stage, but too many people were squashed tighter than a tin of sardines and the tallest were in front. I couldn’t see anything.
The announcer yelled, “All right, without further ado, here are The Piss Ants!”
The crowd surged forward and I thought I’d get crushed.
“Good evening, York,” Keith said. “We’re The Piss Ants and we’re going to fuckin’ blow the roof off. Hit it!”
The band tore into their usual opener, No Connection. Several people sang along. How do they know that song? Has the tape made it up here? No Connection barely faded before the band slashed the opening notes of Down at the Pub. I still couldn’t see and ended up pushing my way to the back stage entrance. I could at least see the band, but wasn’t very close. I wished Ryan hadn’t been such a canard.
“Well your bloody roof is still here but I see smoke coming off the dance floor. You all having a good time?” Keith asked.
The crowd roared their approval.
“This next one’s called All You Punk Rockers and it goes like this! With lightning speed fingers, Keith shredded his guitar strings. I couldn’t tell which smoked more, the dance floor or Keith’s guitar.
After the show, I made my way backstage where Keith grabbed me for an impromptu kiss. “Hell of a show tonight, eh?”
“I won’t argue.” I kissed him back. I wished I’d seen more of it.
“All right, you two can take that up back at your room. I need Brigitte selling before the crowd leaves,” Ryan said. He handed me the lock box. I went to get my postcards, but they weren’t there! I panicked, searching under the table and lifting up papers hoping they’d just been buried.
“Are you sure you put them here?” Ryan asked.
“Of course! I put them on this table.”
“Go on,” Ryan said. “I’ll keep looking and bring ’em to you.”
I was reluctant to go. Where would they be? I know I left them on that table. “Go on, luv,” Keith coaxed. “We’ll fine ‘em.”
hair was gelled into spikes and dyed blond on the tips. She had a pierced lip. What parents let their fourteen-year-old pierce her lip?
“Probably in five or ten minutes. That will be two pounds fifty, please.”
She pulled a crumpled five-pound note from her snug-fitting Levis, handing it to me.
Ryan showed up. “We found most your postcards,” he said, “but some seem a bit damaged. We think the opening band inadvertently knocked them over. They were in a rush for a gig in Manchester.”
I sifted through them. Half were okay, but some had shoe prints or were scratched. I was mortified. “Couldn’t they have been more careful?”
“Well you’re the one who left them there,” Ryan responded.
“Oh, thanks for the sympathy, Ryan. If you came for me on time I would have had time to stash them in a safer place.”
“Something came up. It happens.”
The band came back for autographs while I displayed my few salvageable postcards.
The little girl I previously encountered returned and shoved a tape at Keith. “Could you chaps sign my tape?”
Keith took her tape. “We’d be delighted, luv. What’s your name?”
“Polly.”
“Pretty Polly, then.” He winked at her. She was fourteen. He didn’t need to encourage her. He signed her tape, to pretty Polly before handing it to Jimmy. She remained fixated on Keith as Jimmy tried to talk her up.
“I just want to say how gorgeous you are,” she told Keith.
I rolled my eyes and waited on another customer, but didn’t take my attention off that little girl.
When the night was over I’d only sold ten postcards. My cold wasn’t better and since I wasn’t busy selling, I had nothing to do but feel lousy. The band was backstage reveling so I had to hang about until they felt like leaving. I spotted a dilapidated sofa, dashed over and collapsed onto it. It was lumpy and reeked of stale cigarettes, but I was too desperate to care.
The next thing I knew, Keith was gently shaking me. “Wake up. We’re leaving.”
Back in our room, I wasted no time shedding my clothes and flopping onto the bed.
Keith came in, lugging his guitars and slamming the door with his foot. He placed his guitars against a wall and joined me. “So how come you’re so tired? You just sit behind a table. I run all over stage, singing, yet I’m not tired.”
“Because you’re from another planet,” I answered. “That’s why you get by with little sleep and don’t get human diseases. Now let me sleep. I’m not an alien.”
“Well if you’re going to sleep, I’m going next door. We want to celebrate the success of tonight’s show. We sold a shit load of tapes and the show was bloody fantastic.”
I barely heard him leave as I drifted off to sleep.
I was surprised to see the clock displaying half past ten when I awoke the next morning. I wasn’t feeling much better either, but what else I saw outraged me.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
