Fossils

Elvin, seizing upon the moment to interject, said, “Yes, that was both memorable and amusing,” he chuckled. “However, that story will have to wait.” He looked at his watch. “We had better get back before Chewy locks us out.”

They agreed, finished their drinks, and made their way back to Fossdyke.

Charles went to his room. The past few hours had been fun, but now he was alone in his room the pain of being without Mary gnawed away at him. He smelt the eggy musty aroma; he chuckled and thought. ‘That must be Steve.’

He drew the curtains, leant back in his chair, closed his eyes, and told Mary.

––––––––

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, the four met at breakfast. Charles noticed the old folks seemed subdued compared to the chatter from the previous evening and kept glancing at the four as they ate.

A woman put a full English breakfast in front of Charles. He looked at the plate of greasy offerings and tucked in.

“Glad to see you found your appetite, Charles,” said Mrs Chew, who hovered around the table.

Charles nodded and shovelled a sausage into his mouth.

“Right,” whispered Steve. “When Chewy buggers off we can plan what to do today.”

He sneered at the other terrified looking old folk and played his imaginary air guitar. They cringed and put their heads down, rushing to finish their food.

“So Elvin, how did you end up here?” asked Charles, while cutting up a runny egg.

Elvin was the eldest of the four at seventy-five-years-old. A small solid built man who remained fit and active throughout his life. He had lived at Fossdyke since his wife passed away. Bald as a baboon’s botty, his dry sense of humour made people laugh with his witty off-the-cuff remarks.

Elvin took a slurp of tea and said. “After me missus died, I didn’t want to be alone, so I looked for a residential home and I liked Fossdyke. It was close to the sea, with a well-equipped leisure centre and swimming pool nearby, with other seaside amenities within walking distance. It appeared clean, efficient, and well run. I arranged an interview with Mrs Chew, who told me that there was a room available. She showed me around the residents’ quarters and while showing me the dining room, a woman came over and pulled ‘er to one side. Chewy apologised, saying that she needed to sort out a problem, and she directed me to the recreation room, suggesting that I should check it out. I went along to the room and as I approached, I heard a guitar playing.” He pointed to Steve, who chuckled as Elvin continued. “So I went into the room and he stopped playing and asked me if I was lost... No, I said, Just ‘aving a gander.” Elvin smiled at Steve and continued. “A gander,” he said and taking the mickey out of my cockney accent, asked. “Wot part of London are you from me old cock sparra? The Grimsby part, I told ‘im.”

He laughed, unplugged his Stratocaster from the amp, walked over, and said his name was Steve Baker... or I could call him, ‘Strat.’ I told ‘im, I’m Elvin Stanley... or he could call me, Elvin Stanley,” he chuckled and continued. “I told him I knew the song he was playing, County Jail Blues and said it was a great song and I could play it. He asked if I was a guitarist. I told him I wasn’t, but a dab hand on the old double bass. He must have got the ‘ump, because he couldn’t take his eyes off me Bobby Charlton comb-over, and said I looked like a twat.” Elvin rubbed his bald head. “He said he had Braun clippers and would give me a solar panel for a sex machine.”

“Well I did, but you still look like a twat,” interrupted Steve chuckling and rubbing his head.

Hmm, grumbled Elvin. “Then the cheeky git said, Elvin, that’s a stupid name for a rock star. I didn’t understand what he meant, so I said, I’m not a rock star... I'm a geriatric.”

Steve interrupted. “I wanted to liven the place up, so I wanted to tell everyone he was a rock star. I knew it would give old Elsie an orgasm. Her tubes won't have been lubed since her old man snuffed it. She's probably got moss growing from her flaps,” said Steve and chortled.

Elvin laughed, pointed at Steve, and said. “He then glared at me and announced. I’ll call you Chippers! Short for chipmunk, because one of the bloody annoying chipmunks on T.V.’s called Alvin, which sounds like Elvin, so Chipper's it is.”

Elvin looked at Steve, smiled, and said. “He made me feel right at home before Chewy came back into the rec room. She gave him a filthy look, dragged me away to her office, apologised, and hoped that Steve hadn’t put me off the home. She assured me that the other old residents were far more relaxed.” Elvin laughed. “I paid my deposit there and then, sorted out the paperwork, and a few days later me and my old double bass moved in.”

“Yeah,” said Steve, “there was hell on over the next few months for the old codgers.”

Elvin chuckled and said, “Which only got worse for them when Wayne arrived wiv his drum kit and Yamaha keyboard.”

“Great for us, though,” said Steve, “we were now a trio.”

Charles cringed, recalling the dreadful noise he’d heard from this trio.

After breakfast, the four went to the recreation room. Residents who milled around in there were about to leave when Mrs Chew walked in and stood guard over the door to their instruments.

“We’ve got bingo at 10:00 am, so none of your antics today,” she said and scowled.

The four sighed, went to the coffee machine, took their beverages outside, and sat on a bench in the grounds.

“What did Mrs Chew mean last night when she mentioned what happened last time?” asked Charles, looking intrigued.

The three looked uncomfortable and Charles thought he had hit a raw nerve, but after a moment's silence, Steve said. “You tell him, deaf boy. After all, it was your fault.”

“What?” Wayne asked, feigning deafness and fiddling with his hearing-aid.

Steve sniggered and said. “Okay, I'll tell him.”

Steve took a drink of coffee and said. “Old deaf boy hadn’t told us his full story, and always became selectively deaf when we questioned him about his life. Although strangely enough when we are in a pub his hearing becomes clear when offered a pint of beer,” he said, and he and Elvin chuckled.

Wayne, knowing he had been rumbled and his hearing was okay, took over telling the story, which happened over a year ago. “Toward the end of my first year at Fossdyke, I noticed small spots of grey hair.”

“Small!” Steve interrupted, “you're a lying twat Logan. You looked like Santa’s dandruff.” he chuckled.

Wayne glared at Steve. “At least I have hair, baldy,” said Wayne, running his fingers through his hair. “Not bad for a seventy-two-year-old,” he smirked. “Anyhow, I was applying a dab of black hair dye to a small patch that looked lighter than the rest.” He pointed at the giggling Steve and Elvin. “Those two knocked on my door wanting me to go to the recreation room to rehearse. They kept banging on the door, so I slipped the small plastic hair dye bottle into my pocket and answered. Steve pestered me to hurry, so in my haste, I forgot about the bottle.”

He took a slurp of coffee and continued, “We did a soundcheck after Elvin fitted his little falsies, and we played. Engrossed in beating out a rhythm, I didn’t notice the bottle of hair dye slip out of my pocket and lodge under the foot pedal of my bass drum. I stamped on the pedal and the top of the bottle popped off.”

“A stream of black hair dye spurted over the cream-coloured, shag-pile carpet,” interrupted Steve. “And the worse thing is, old deaf boy didn't see it and carried on stomping on the pedal... You should have seen his face when he realised what happened and picked up the empty bottle.”

Elvin sniggered as he recalled the event, remembering how Steve warned Wayne about how Chewy would crush his knackers unless he serviced her.

“Well you made matters worse, buddy,” said Wayne smirking.

Steve looked embarrassed as Wayne continued and pointed at him. “Because old ripey was laughing so hard, he farted.”

“It was too much excitement for my uncontrollable dysfunctional bowel and it belched out foul-smelling puffs of gas,” said Steve, smirking.

“Foul-smelling puffs of gas. That's a goddamn understatement. It smelt like putrid eggs blowing out of your ass” interrupted Wayne smiling.

“It was like being gassed,” said Elvin, “it wez ‘orrible.”

Charles was enjoying every moment of this light-hearted banter, as Wayne told him. “Chewy walked into the rec room, saw the black stains on the carpet, and smelt the pungent air around old ripey. She pinched her nose and accused us of letting off stink-bombs and throwing paint over the shag pile.”

“She wuz livid,” said Elvin, “and glared at us with 'err 'ands on 'err 'ips, screaming about wilful acts of vandalism, calling us senile destructive old men, and she called the boss, his daughter,” he pointed at Steve.

“And her crush on old deaf boy was over,” chuckled Steve.

“We felt like scolded schoolboys when the furious doctor and Mrs Chew came into the recreation room and bollocked us. We had tried scrubbing the dye off the carpet, but only spread the stain around,” said Elvin. “They threatened to kick me and Wayne out.”

“Yeah, but fortunately they only banned us from playing music again,” said Wayne.

Steve chuckled and said, “But now that you're here, Charley boy, I'm sure I can persuade Lucy to let us rehearse again.”

Charles cringed, and through grated teeth said. “Oh, that would be nice.”

“So what’s the plan? We can’t sit around here all day and I don’t fancy bingo,” said Elvin.

“I’ll call Lucy,” said Steve, taking out his mobile phone.

Elvin looked at Charles and in a soft voice said. “When we saw you yesterday, you looked like you had just lost someone very close, was it your wife?” he asked.

Charles nodded.

Elvin gently squeezed Charles's arm and said. “My world collapsed and I felt lost and alone when my missus died. I wanted to end it and I fink about her all the time,” he looked at Charles, smiled, and told him, “It gets easier Nobby, and we are always here for you. The band of wrinkled brothers,” he chuckled and said. “Life’s too short to be sad.”

Charles gasped. “That’s what my wife Mary always said.”

Elvin smiled. “And she was right.”

“Great news lads,” interrupted Steve looking pleased, “Lucy will have a word with Chewy. We can start rehearsing again tomorrow.”

“Great, well done buddy!” exclaimed Wayne.

Elvin put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, smiled, and said. “Now the healing begins Nobby.”

The four spend the afternoon in the gardens planning for the next day and Charles told them about Mary.

Mrs Chew came outside on occasions and glowered at the four after receiving Lucy’s instructions.

Apart from Steve terrorising the old folk and warning them what lay in store, it was a sedate day for the old musicians.

After the evening meal, they strolled along to the Pavilion.

They sat on the same bench around the table and while Steve lit a cigarette, Elvin leaned over to Charles and said. “I suppose you want to know what happened to my fingers and me little falsies, and 'ow a cockney ended up in Cleeforpes?”

Charles had been wondering about Elvin’s lack of digits since they first met, but felt too embarrassed to ask. Now Elvin had offered to disclose the fact, he wanted to know and nodded. Elvin held up his pincers and said. “I lost these many years ago when I was a stoker in the Royal Navy. They selected me for the Portsmouth *Field gun crew and I spent the next few years shore-based at H.M.S. Nelson in Portsmouth, training for the royal tournament at Earls’ court. During one training session, while running with a 12-pound gun, the wheels slipped as we tried to lift it over the wall. I made a grave error of judgement and ignored the warnings from me training and grabbed the wheel to stop it slipping.” He held up his hands. “I trapped me bloody ‘ands underneath and it cut me fingers clean off.” Elvin sighed and looked sullen. “That was the end of me service career.”

He then chuckled and continued, “Never mind, it worked out for the best. Pensioned out at thirty-five, I came to Grimsby to look for work on trawlers and met me missus, Anna, and we had three great kids. When they laid me off from the trawlers in the '80s, I built a workshop on a large piece of land at the back of our ‘ouse, which I kitted out with tools and machinery. I started making medical prosfetics, starting with me own ‘little falsies.’ Then I made prosfetics for the surgical department at the general 'ospital. I turned me little 'obby into a lucrative business.” He smiled. “The money I saved plus me pensions will last me out.”

The four chatted, drank, and apart from Charles, who knew his eardrums would be tortured again, felt excited about the next day.

Charles felt comfortable around these three miscreants and by 10:00 pm, the four old-timers, merrily spannered, staggered back to Fossdyke.

Charles, feeling unsteady, flopped into his armchair. He felt the room spinning so closed his eyes and told Mary about his day, before dozing into a blissful slumber.

-Track Three-

After breakfast, the four hung-over old men went to the recreation room.

Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles sat around the piano while several other residents milled around, knowing they were safe for now as their nemeses were talking and had no instruments.

Wayne opened his briefcase, took out pages of handwritten music, and handed them to Charles, who smiled and looked through the pages. He read the music to one song, which he played, while the others listened.

Steve and Elvin looked impressed, as did Charles as he played the melancholy ballad Wayne had entitled, ‘Vulnerable.’ Charles finished playing, and they looked at Wayne.

“That sounded good mate,” said Steve, and looking at the sheet music, asked, “Are there any vocals?”

“Sure,” said Wayne, and handed him a separate sheet of paper with lyrics scribbled on it.

“Play it again Nobby,” said Steve, looking at the words.

Charles played the song again and when Steve picked up the tune, he sang.

Halfway through Charles stopped playing, much to the relief of Elvin and Wayne. Steve was out of key, sung in the wrong tempo, and his gruff voice made the ballad sound like grating sandpaper.

“Sorry lads,” said Steve, “it’s too slow for me, but I can think of a guitar riff which would go great with this song.”

“What about the vocals?” asked Elvin. “I can’t sing well and Wayne can hardly hear, so we can't do them.”

“How about you, Nobby?” Steve asked.

Charles told them about his vocal chord problem, so didn’t have the voice for classical music or opera. “But I’ll try,” he said and put the sheet with lyrics next to the music on the rack of his piano. He then played and sang ‘Vulnerable.

Charles finished to a stunned silence. The three looked at him, agog.

“That sounded different,” said Steve.

“You sound great Nobby!” Elvin exclaimed, “You may not have the voice for opera, but it was perfect for this ballad. Yer gravelly tenor twang made you sound a cross between Andrea Bocelli and Joe Cocker.”

“Outstanding buddy,” said Wayne.

“Right, let’s get our stuff and see what we can do,” said Steve, smirking at the other residents, who made a hasty retreat as Wayne, Elvin, and Steve went to get their instruments.

They set up next to Charles, plugged in their instruments, and went to stand around the piano.

“Play that song again Nobby,” said Steve.

Charles played and sang Vulnerable again.

Once they’d finished, Charles and Wayne discussed how to incorporate electric guitar, double bass and a drumbeat, and Charles jotted down chords and the beat.

They spent the day rehearsing, adjusting, and tweaking the song and carried on after supper, well into the evening.

Steve, Elvin, and Wayne felt a renewed vigour for music thanks to Charles, who tutored and directed them. Vulnerable took shape over the next few days as the four came together.

Charles and Wayne incorporated all their instruments and melodies that Elvin, Steve, and Wayne sang in the song, and by the end of the fourth day, they performed a decent rendition of Vulnerable.

“That sounded fantastic lads,” said Steve as they finished playing.

“I agree, you have all done excellent,” said Charles and continued, “It is a lovely song, well done Wayne.”

Wayne smiled.

“Shall we go to the boozer and celebrate? It’s only 8 o'clock,” said Elvin smiling.

“Great idea Chippers,” said Steve.

“I agree,” said Wayne, “great idea buddy.”

“I’ll get my hat,” said Charles.

Elvin, Steve, and Wayne packed away their instruments and Charles went to fetch his light summer trilby from his room, before heading to the Pavilion.

Dressed in short sleeve shirts and slacks, the four sat on their regular bench outside and chatted.

“I fink we have a band,” Elvin announced and chuckled.

“We have,” said Charles. “So what are we going to call ourselves?”

They pondered for a moment and Steve announced, “The Four Old Fogey’s from Cleethorpes,” he laughed. “The Fossdyke Old Fogeys.”

“That’s a bit of a mouthful,” said Elvin.

They laughed and Charles suggested, “We are ancient old fossils, so how about, The Fossdyke Fossils?”

Considering Charles's suggestion, Elvin said, “or just, the Fossils?”

They thought about the name.

“Although with the ‘The’ added, it sounded like a throwback to the ’60s,” said Charles, so suggested. “Fossils?”

Steve grinned and said, “I like it.”

The three nodded their agreement and Steve raised his glass. “To Fossils,” he announced.

The four chinked glasses and repeated aloud.

“Fossils!”

Other customers, thinking the old fellow’s ruckus was because they just discovered that someone invented multi-coloured incontinence pants, glared at them and went back to their conversations.

“Right gentlemen, we have Vulnerable almost cracked, so once we perfect that, we could learn more of Wayne's songs,” said Charles.

“I’ve got one,” Steve chuckled and warbled.

“Mary, Mary your fanny’s hairy, your tits are heading south; I’ve something here that tastes of beer, so shove it in your m...”

“That’s enough!” shouted Charles, interrupting.

Steve put his hand over his mouth and realising he'd upset Charles, became embarrassed and apologised. “Sorry Charles, I forgot your wife’s name was Mary. I was only joking,” he said and extended his hand.

Charles shook his hand, smirked, and said. “So, how did you know her fanny was hairy?”

Steve looked into the smiling face of Charles and realised that he wasn’t as stuck-up as he seemed as Charles said. “It was a fine old bush before it turned grey and wispy,” he joked. “One time I could have sworn I saw Doctor Livingstone wandering around lost in there.”

Wayne, Elvin, and Steve looked shocked and then burst out laughing.

The conversation then turned to the old women of Fossdyke and their pubic hair, or the lack thereof. The four laughed and joked all evening.

They went back to Fossdyke and Charles spoke to wispy fanny Mary before drifting off to sleep.

––––––––

OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, Fossils rehearsed and played songs from Wayne’s repertoire. The music varied from ballads and soft rock to up-tempo rock ‘n’ roll. Charles and Wayne spent time incorporating or changing notes, lyrics, and melodies, to suit the newly formed band. With Charles’s tenor raspy voice and the other three harmonising, it sounded different from any other music. Their sound was unique.

They practised long hours alone in the recreation room as the old residents scurried out when Steve, Elvin, and Wayne set up their instruments. Mrs Chew was still angry at Lucy Fossdyke's decision to allow them to rehearse again. Fearing that it was still a noisy racket, she kept clear of the recreation room.

The four felt pleased and surprised by how well they came together under Charles’s tuition.

The next song they tried had no lyrics. Although Wayne had written several versions, he wasn’t happy with the results. Charles liked the tune and played the melody several times before a title popped into his head. He and Wayne worked on the lyrics while Elvin and Steve went to the pub.

The following day they rehearsed, ‘Life is Too Short to Be Sad,’ Wayne and Charles wrote lyrics based on Charles’s title. Charles added notes and toned down the tempo. The beguiling song had several parts, needing all four to sing in harmony. It also had a solo tenor crescendo in the chorus. It was a soft rock ballad with thought-provoking lyrics, which the four loved.

One evening, after packing away their instruments, and about to go to the Pavilion for their evening libation, Steve said. “How about going to The Wellow for a change? They have a band playing tonight.”

Charles looked puzzled.

“Wellow’s another pub close by Nobby, but it’s noisy and full of youngsters,” said Wayne, much to Steve’s amusement.

“Why do you care? You’re deaf!” shouted Steve.

“Not all the time,” Wayne replied and smirked

“What do you reckon Nobby, it will be a change,” said Steve.

Charles looked at Wayne and Elvin, who shrugged.

“Why not,” said Charles, “Perhaps there’s a good group on, so we can pick up some tips.”

The four walked along the beach road and headed to the Wellow.

The Wellow public house, situated close to the town’s small bowling alley, was only a short walk along the beach road from Fossdyke. Although slightly smaller than the Pavilion, it attracted the younger crowd, making it a lot more raucous. The Wellow’s landlord, a middle-aged man named David Sugden, was an unmarried, stocky individual, with a friendly disposition. Known as Cosmo because he resembled English comedian Benny Hill's character, Cosmo Smallpiece, he had run the successful brewery owned public house for 15 years. Cosmo occasionally did the odd dodgy deal but prided himself on never breaking the law, although he’d bent it on occasions.

When Charles, Elvin, Steve, and Wayne arrived at the Wellow, they went around the back to the lounge. It was a warm summer evening and people stood outside in groups holding pints of beer, chatting, and smoking. A sign on the door read: Live tonight - Tony S.

The lounge bustled with people stood chatting, and while Wayne, Charles, and Elvin sat at an empty table, Steve struggled through the crowd to get to the bar and get the drinks.

Eventually being served, he jostled his way back to the other three. They saw the band’s equipment set up and waited for them to play.