Chapter 9 #2
When the busker stopped, Derek reached into his pocket and pulled out some shillings. He threw them into the open guitar case.
‘Play another one.’
Con stared at the young man. He’d watched him cross the street towards him.
His gait was unusual, his knees occasionally bowing out to the sides, as if he was unbalanced.
With his blond hair and big blue eyes, he reminded Con of an overgrown choirboy.
Age-wise, he could have been anywhere between sixteen and thirty.
Con glanced down at the four shillings that had been thrown into his guitar case.
‘Any requests?’
‘Play another of your own.’
Con gave him a courteous grin. ‘Okay.’
He played a more uptempo number that he’d composed as a fourteen-year-old and which was still one of his favourites.
When he’d finished, the young man clapped. ‘That was great. Do you play bass by any chance?’
‘I have been known to.’
He walked forward and offered his hand. ‘Derek Longthorne. Pleased to meet you. Fancy a beer?’
Con arrived home two hours later. He was lurching between happiness and uncertainty. Having made up his mind that his music career was over, he’d been offered a tenuous step in the right direction.
‘Hello, sweetheart. Something smells good.’ Con sniffed the air as he crossed the room to hug Sorcha, who was standing stirring the contents of a saucepan.
‘And you look good enough to eat.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her, staring into the saucepan.
‘What’s with the bacon? And the mini-skirt? ’
She turned to face him. It was the first time he’d seen her wearing make-up in a while.
‘Con, I . . .’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘We’re having a celebration.’
‘Are we? Have I forgotten an anniversary or a birthday?’
‘No. I need you to promise you won’t be cross.’
‘Sorcha, with you looking like that, I’m putty in your hands.’
‘Okay. I’ve got a job. I’m starting on Monday and I’ll be paid five pounds a week.’
Con dropped his hands from around her waist. ‘Now, I was thinking we’d been through this before.’
‘Con, we have. But things are desperate.’
‘I know, I know,’ he sighed. ‘Well now, what exactly is it you’ll be doing?’
‘Something very ladylike. I’m going to be working on the perfumery counter in Swan and Edgar’s.’
‘Isn’t that a match company?’ He sat himself on the flat’s one threadbare chair.
‘No, eejit,’ Sorcha giggled, relaxing a little. ‘It’s a grand department store in Piccadilly Circus. Oh, Con, say you’re pleased?’
‘Come here.’ Con patted his knee.
Sorcha walked over to him and sat down, winding her arms round his neck.
‘I think,’ he said as he kissed her neck, ‘that I can’t think’ – he kissed her shoulder – ‘until I’ve made love to you.’
Afterwards, they lay on the narrow bed, limbs entwined. ‘So, my precious princess has to go and earn a crust for her useless article of a lover. I never thought it would come to this.’ Con stroked the silken skin of Sorcha’s inner thigh.
‘It won’t be for long. Something will turn up for you, I’m sure.’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, something happened to me today.’
‘What? A good something?’
‘Could be.’
Sorcha’s eyes lit up. ‘Tell me, Con.’
‘I’ve met a man who says he’s a member of a group. Their bass player has just left. He heard me busking, took me for a beer and asked me to go along to some pub in Camden Town tomorrow night to try out.’
‘As what?’
‘Their bass player.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘You don’t sound very excited.’
‘I’m sorry. I just thought you wanted your own group. A bass player?’ Sorcha wrinkled her nose. ‘You’re worth more than that.’
‘And you’re worth more than flogging perfumes to fat, wealthy women.’ Con sprang out of bed and searched in his jeans for his tin of tobacco and cigarette papers.
‘I’m glad for you, Con, really. I just always imagined you would be fronting the band.’
‘Sorcha, we both imagined a lot of things that haven’t happened since we got here. Anyway, I’ve just decided not to do it. I’ll be much better off looking for steady work as a labourer.’ Con lit his roll-up and sucked on it morosely.
‘No, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course it’s a start. Of course I’m pleased. Tell me about them. What kind of music do they play?’
Con shrugged. ‘Modern rocky stuff. They do covers and some of their own songs.’
‘Are they well known?’
‘I’ve never heard of them,’ he grinned. ‘But ’twould be a start.’
‘Con, it’s grand news. You must go tomorrow night.’
‘I’ll be thinking about it,’ he said eventually. ‘Now, how about some of that bacon?’
The Queen Victoria pub on Camden High Street was noisy and very smoky. There was an eclectic mix of drinkers, from old men sitting round a table playing cards to the young, brightly coloured mob huddled down at one end of the bar watching the band set up their gear on the small dais.
‘Hey,’ whispered Sorcha as they stood a few yards away, ‘looks as though they have a following. That’s something.’
Con did not reply. He was watching the scene with interest.
‘Hi! Glad you could make it.’ Derek slapped Con on the back. ‘And who is this vision of loveliness?’ His eyes turned to Sorcha.
‘My lady, Sorcha O’Donovan.’
‘Derek Longthorne. Rhythm guitarist with the Blackspots. Pleased to meet you, Sorcha.’ He smiled at her.
‘Right, step this way and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the group.
I had a word with Todd and he thinks it best if you listen for the first set to get an idea of our style, then come up and join us after the break.
’ He steered Con towards the dais. Sorcha followed meekly behind, feeling awkward.
‘Oh, Sorcha, why don’t you go and join Lulu at the table in the corner? She’s Todd’s girlfriend. She’ll fill you in on who’s who. Now, Con, as I was telling you yesterday, the style is very . . .’
Sorcha looked in the direction that Derek had pointed.
Sitting at a table smoking a cigarette was a beautiful girl.
She had long, straight, ebony hair reaching almost to her waist. Her locks were in total contrast to her skin, which was the colour of pale alabaster.
The woman’s eyes were heavily lined with black kohl, and her lips a startling red against her white skin.
She was dressed in a beautifully tailored blue suede suit with matching boots.
Feeling horribly dowdy in her mac and tweed mini, Sorcha moved slowly over to the table.
‘Hello. Derek said I should come over.’
The huge doe eyes focused on Sorcha. They swept her from top to bottom so piercingly that Sorcha could feel herself blushing.
‘Then sit.’
‘My name’s Sorcha O’Donovan. I’ve come with Con Daly. He’s trying out as bass guitarist for the band.’
‘Bully for him,’ Lulu drawled, taking another drag of her cigarette. ‘I wouldn’t hold out much hope, darling. They’ve tried out twelve in the past month. This isn’t some little hick end-of-the-pier outfit, you know. Todd Bradley and the Blackspots are going places.’
‘I’m sure they are.’
‘Todd is a classically trained musician. He knows what he’s talking about.’
‘Which one is Todd?’
‘He’s standing by the mic.’
Sorcha glanced at Todd. With his glasses and short back and sides, he certainly didn’t look like a sweaty rock-and-roller.
‘He’s the cleverest man I’ve ever met. Introduced me to Proust and Freud. He can quote poetry for hours on end. The man has a vast brain. I find him so stimulating. Every one of his songs is meaningful, a poem set to music.’
Sorcha stared at Lulu, half of her now hoping Con would not come up to scratch. She could hardly see a blossoming friendship before her.
‘So, er, Sonia, what do you do with yourself?’
‘My name’s Sorcha actually. Next Monday I start on the perfumery counter of Swan and Edgar’s.’
‘Really? How fascinating. I’m an actress. You might recognise me? I’ve done loads of films.’ Lulu turned her penetrating stare back to Sorcha, challenging her.
‘I . . . yes, I’m sure now that I do.’
‘I have a test next week for Hammer.’
‘Who?’
‘Who? Hammer Pictures of course. I’m testing for a bride of Frankenstein.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that the part would suit you very well.’
‘Thank you.’ Sorcha was glad that Lulu took it as a compliment.
‘Okay, chaps.’ Todd had taken the microphone. There was a surge of applause from the audience. ‘Thanks for coming along. We’ll start with an old favourite. This is “Time Slips By”.’
Sorcha watched with interest as the band began to play.
She was no expert when it came to music, but they produced a decent melodious sound and Todd had a pleasant voice.
She saw Con studying them intently. At one point he turned around and winked at her.
She winked back. Lulu was sitting with her head resting on the banquette, eyes shut, mouthing the words.
Sorcha made a concerted effort to listen to the lyrics.
They certainly made sense, but the ‘poetry’ eluded her.
Twenty minutes later, the band announced they’d take a short break. Todd stepped easily off the podium and made his way towards Lulu.
‘Superb as always, my lovely.’ She kissed him on both cheeks.
‘Thanks. Who’s this?’
A pair of intelligent eyes gazed at Sorcha with interest from behind the glasses.
‘Sorcha, Con’s girlfriend.’
‘Ah, our possible bassist, discovered languishing in Carnaby Street by Derek.’ Todd smiled.
‘Good to meet you, Sorcha. I really hope Con works out. The band can’t move forward until we have a fourth member who’s as committed as the rest of us.
I’ll catch you later, sweetheart. I want to chat to Con and let him have a tinker with our bass guitar.
Bye, Sorcha, great to meet you.’ Todd blew a kiss to Lulu and left.
‘That man just oozes sex, doesn’t he?’ murmured Lulu.
Fifteen minutes later, Todd was back behind the microphone.
‘Right, let me introduce you to Con Daly, recently arrived from the Emerald Isle, though we’ll try not to hold that against him,’ Todd chuckled, ‘and fresh from fronting his own successful band over there. As always, I want you to help us decide if Con is our new man. Con Daly, ladies and gents!’
Con climbed onto the stage, gave an embarrassed wave, then put the bass guitar strap over his neck.
‘Good luck, Sonia,’ Lulu cooed. ‘This crowd can be tough.’
‘Thanks,’ Sorcha replied through gritted teeth. This was hideous. Con, who could knock the lot of them into a cocked hat with his talent, was being treated like some dumb apprentice.
‘We’re gonna play “Can’t Buy Me Love”! We all know that one.’ Todd smiled, and counted the band in.
‘Come on, Con, show them what you can do,’ muttered Sorcha under her breath.
The audience whooped and cheered. Todd led them straight into another Beatles hit.
‘Now, not only can this man play bass, he tells me he can also sing. I give you Con Daly!’
Con came forward and stood in front of the microphone.
‘Thanks,’ he said, and began to play the haunting, familiar guitar riff that signalled the start of ‘House of the Rising Sun’.
Sorcha watched as Lulu suddenly sat up straight and stared at Con. The song was a perfect fit for her man. A wave of pride washed over her.
As the band brought The Animals’ hit to a close, applause rained around the pub. Con bowed and took his place behind Todd.
‘So what do we think?’
‘Yes! Yes!’ came the reply from the audience.
‘Well, Con, looks like you’re in. Welcome to Todd Bradley and the Blackspots.’
‘With a bit of training your guy could really sing.’ Lulu was looking at Sorcha with new respect.
‘I think he’s after doing okay without the training.’
Lulu furrowed her brow. ‘Don’t get defensive. He’s good. Anyway, he’ll only be backing. Todd’s the singer in the group.’
‘Sure,’ replied Sorcha morosely.
An hour later, after declining an offer to join the rest of the band at a club in Soho due to lack of funds, Sorcha and Con went strolling through Regent’s Park on their way home to Swiss Cottage.
Con was on a high.
‘We’ll be rehearsing three afternoons a week.
They’ve got over a dozen gigs in pubs lined up for the next month.
Todd’s dead set on going to the top. Your man has a really professional attitude, Derek’s shit-hot on rhythm guitar and Ian, the drummer, is exceptional.
I really think it could happen for them. Well, us!’
Sorcha nodded silently.
Con stopped.
‘You’ve been so quiet since we left. Are you not a little happy for me?’
‘Of course I am, Con. It’s just that when you stepped forward and sang, the stage came alive.
I know I’m biased, but the audience felt it too.
As Todd’s girlfriend said, you’ll only be playing bass and singing backing.
Todd Bradley is the star and . . . well, I just know he won’t give you a look-in. ’
Con stopped and took Sorcha’s hands. ‘Don’t you think I know that? But, Sorcha, so what if I have to play second fiddle to Todd for a while? It’s a start. If I’m good, I’ll be noticed whether I’m singing lead or backing. It’s better than nothing, that’s the way I see it.’
‘Of course.’
‘Ah, Sorcha.’ Con took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.
‘Always looking out for me, aren’t you now?
’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘You know it won’t pay very much.
Todd was saying that the fee split between four doesn’t go far.
He’s said I can borrow his bass guitar for now but I’ll have to buy my own eventually. ’
‘Then it’s grand that I have a job. I’m happy to support you until things start to take off, as long as you can stand me stinking of six different types of perfume when I come home.’
‘I wouldn’t want to be living off you for long, but let’s give it a couple of months and see how it goes.’
‘Grand.’
Con looked down at her. ‘No matter what we go through, we’ll always be together.’
‘Always,’ she repeated as his lips came down to meet hers.