Fossils

Only seeing a guitar and electronic equipment, Charles said. “It must be just a man with a guitar.”

Tony S went on the small stage and fiddled with buttons and knobs on his equipment. The Stevie Wonder tune, ‘I Just Called to Say I Love you’ played, as Tony S strummed and sang.

“It’s a bloody Karaoke!” Steve shouted above the din.

“Not good Karaoke either,” said Elvin, “it sounds awful.”

Wayne just thought, ‘I told you so,’ and switched off his hearing-aid.

The four sat through the painful set of Tony S and felt relieved when he took a break.

“Let’s have a beer in the Pavilion,” said Elvin. “At least we can hear ourselves think, without that bloody awful racket.”

“Agreed,” said Wayne, after switching on his hearing-aid.

They finished their drinks and were about to leave when Steve said. “You go on ahead, I will join you later. I just saw somebody I need to have a word with.”

Elvin, Charles, and Wayne walked the short distance to the Pavilion and sat outside at their regular spot.

They waited for Steve, who hadn’t shown up by 10:00 pm.

“He must still be chatting to his mate,” said Elvin.

“He would probably go back to Fossdyke when he realised the time,” said Charles, Wayne and Elvin nodded and the three walked back to Fossdyke.

Steve grinned like a Cheshire cat through breakfast. They went into the recreation room and set up their equipment.

Wayne counted them in and they played, ‘Consider Me Gone,’ another of Wayne's songs they wanted to try.

After finishing the song, Wayne and Charles got together to iron out the wrinkles, while Elvin and Steve plucked, strummed, and chatted.

“Why don’t you try an electric bass mate?” Steve asked, sounding aloof.

Elvin looked at his beat-up old instrument, shook his head, and said. “I like my old double bass. I tried an electric one several years ago. It was easy to play, but I much prefer my old faithful Flores.” Elvin then plucked a fast tempo piece and grinned.

“How about you Nobby?” Steve shouted, interrupting Charles and Wayne’s train of thought. “Can you play something smaller? Wayne has a portable Yamaha keyboard that does everything and has all the bells and whistles.”

Charles frowned and said. “I know he has, I use it to revamp songs while you're down the pub.”

“So you can play it then?” asked Steve.

“Yes, of course,” said Charles and becoming suspicious, asked. “Why?”

Steve smiled and played a rapid riff. He felt the others staring so stopped. Now he had their attention, he said. “I spoke to Cosmo, the Gaffer at the Wellow last night. We're performing there a week on Friday.”

He nonchalantly continued his riff.

The three gasped.

“What?” asked Elvin.

“Fossils are playing at the Wellow a week on Friday,” Steve repeated.

The three stunned musicians looked at each other, agog.

They then looked at Steve smiling.

“Hang on Steven. Are you crazy? Who mentioned anything about us being a performing band?” asked Charles.

“Why not?” asked Steve, pointing out. “Why do we rehearse? Surely we all want to take pleasure from a live performance again?”

The other three fell silent and glared at Steve.

Wayne scratched his chin. He remembered the rush he felt performing to audiences in his younger days. He broke the silence. “I suppose he’s right... it makes sense.”

“We're too old and knackered to hump around gear at our age and too droopy to be sex symbols,” said Elvin.

Steve, seeing them considering his plan, said, “It’s not far so I will get the gear moved and set up. My mates have a van, so all we have to do is stroll along to the Wellow and play. They will bring our stuff back the next day.”

The three looked at one another, then at Steve strumming his guitar.

“I’m up for it!” exclaimed Wayne.

Steve stopped strumming and said. “Nice one mate, what about you two?”

Charles and Elvin pondered.

Elvin had never played to a live audience and always felt it was something he had missed out on. He smiled and said, “I suppose there’s no ‘arm in trying.”

All eyes turned to Charles, who although nervous about the prospect, looking at his band member’s happy, hopeful faces and, remembering his fond memories performing with the London Philly, smiled and said. “Fossils live at the Wellow in Cleethorpes, next stop the Royal Albert Hall!”

They cheered and then nervously looked at one another.

“Hang on,” said Elvin. “A week on Friday. That means we only ‘av ten days.”

“Yeah,” said Steve. “So we better get cracking.”

Charles and Wayne went to the store cupboard, brought out Wayne’s Yamaha PSR-180 electronic piano keyboard that Wayne set up. Charles played ‘Vulnerable’ and the others joined in.

After lunch, Elvin caught a bus into Grimsby and went along to a musical equipment shop. Elvin bought a new electric, Fender four-string bass guitar and amp. He knew it would be easier than lugging around his old Flores and thought the smaller electric version looked cooler.

‘I will ‘av to dig out my electric bass playing falsies and practice,” said Elvin, becoming excited about their upcoming gig.

Deciding not to learn new tunes, they spent the days until the gig practising with the new instruments and perfecting the songs they’d already learned. Charles tidied up old rock 'n' roll classics they already knew Steve could sing. They came up with a playlist and rehearsed feverishly over the next few days.

They felt worn out, aching in places that hadn’t hurt for many years. Elvin and Steve’s fingertips stung, Wayne’s wrists felt like lead, and Charles’s throat felt like he had gargled sand. They persisted, and with only a few days left, they ran through each song on their playlist. They finished their last song and smiled at one another.

“We’ve cracked it, we sound great,” said Steve, and the others smiled and nodded.

“It’s 8 o’clock, shall we ‘av a break and nip to the Pavilion for a pint,” said Elvin, looking at the welts on his fingertips.”

“Good idea,” said Charles sounding hoarse, “I’m parched.”

They went to the Pavilion, whistling and humming their tunes.

While drinking beer, Steve said, “I know we think we sound great, but I’d like another opinion,” he smirked. “I have a plan.” He leaned forward and announced, “Let’s put on a show at Fossdyke before we perform at the Wellow and get feedback from the wrinklies.”

The others frowned.

“Chewy won’t allow that,” said Wayne.

Steve smirked, “Leave her to me. I’ll call Lucy,” he said.

The others agreed if Steve could pull it off.

Steve called Lucy and told her about their impromptu gig, telling her it was important. Lucy had never heard her father play, but from reports she’d had from Mrs Chew, glad she hadn’t. However, Steve was insistent that she came along with Bernard, telling her that she was in for a big surprise, and they would arrange everything if she cleared it with Mrs Chew.

Although getting late, Lucy called Mrs Chew, who said that the band was a noisy, raucous bunch of old louts, whom the residents constantly complained about and still avoided the recreation room. However, Mrs Chew agreed when Lucy told her if that was the case, she would stop them from playing once and for all.

Elvin knew his children always made excuses why they were too busy to come; they seldom came to visit and when they did, the visits were brief. Charles still felt angry with his family after Mary's passing, so neither he nor Elvin contacted their families.

The four sat in silence around the table. They hardly touched their beer as they waited on tenterhooks for a phone call. They jumped when Steve’s phone rang.

He spoke to Lucy for several minutes, hung up, looked at the anticipation on the faces of his bandmates, grinned, and announced, “Right lads, we better get an early night, we have a busy day tomorrow, we have a concert to perform,” said Steve.

The next morning, Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles placed several rows of chairs a short distance from the band's speakers, leaving floor space in front of their instruments. Unsure of how many would attend, they’d figured ten chairs should suffice.

Steve felt delighted that his daughter would come. He knew Lucy had a good sense of humour because she had married Bernard the Bonehead.

“Lucy will come to see us later, so let’s put on a good show,” said Steve looking proud.

Not wanting to strain themselves, they sat around their instruments and hummed the tunes, going over each song in their heads.

Later that morning, a signwriter came with vinyl letters for Wayne’s drum. After 30 minutes, ‘FOSSILS’ in black vinyl letters arched around the top of the bass drum skin.

The four stood and admired the work. They now felt like a band, albeit a wrinkly one. They nodded at one another.

After lunch, Mrs Chew came in, stomped over to the four, and with a stern look, announced, “Mr and Mrs Fossdyke will be here at 7 o’clock. Mr Chew and I will come to watch you make fools of yourselves, and then we can stop this music nonsense and everyone can get their recreation room back without you terrifying them.”

She then looked at Wayne’s drum and read out the vinyl print. “Fossils,” she groaned and sneered. “Dopey Old Codgers would be more fitting.”

She turned, strode out of the recreation room, and went into her office for a cigarette. She puffed away smiling. ‘Tomorrow we can be back to normal, and the other wrinklies would stop complaining. I’d better get the afternoon bingo organised.’ she thought and looked at her watch. ‘Arthur will be here soon and want a sub,’ she stubbed out her cigarette and left her office.

Arthur Chew, her husband, worked mornings cleaning the local council offices. Although seldom seen at Fossdyke because if he wasn’t at work, he frequented the local pubs and working men’s clubs, and an avid domino player. Arthur frequently popped into Fossdyke to get money off Hilda, as he was always skint and liked afternoon domino sessions at the British Legion club. He waited for his wife in her office.

Mrs Chew came in smiling. She lit a cigarette, gave Arthur £20, and told him, “Be home early, we have to come here tonight. I want to witness my problem old farts making fools of themselves and get banned from playing their racket here ever again.”

Mr Chew frowned and looked puzzled, so Mrs Chew explained, “I told you about those four old idiots playing their racket and upsetting everyone, especially the boss’s Dad, Steve.”

Arthur nodded, although he couldn’t remember because his wife constantly grumbled, so he seldom paid attention.

She told him, “They’ve got a stupid group called, Fossils. They’re playing at the Wellow tomorrow, but want to torture us first,” she sniggered, “but after tonight it will all be over.”

Arthur shrugged. He had seen flyers and posters in the British Legion about a band called Fossils playing at the Wellow on Friday, but nobody had ever heard of them. Smiling, he thought, ‘this could be fun, wait until I tell the lads down the legion that Fossils are a band of old codgers at Fossdyke on their last legs.’

He chuckled, kissed his smiling wife on the cheek, and left.

The four decided not to play their full playlist and chose four songs. Starting with, Life is Too Short to Be Sad, followed by the ballads, Vulnerable and Cry alone. They would finish with Rolling Thunder, a fast beat rock song.

––––––––

BERNARD AND LUCY ARRIVED at 7:00 pm and went into the recreation room accompanied by Mr and Mrs Chew. Lucy and Bernard went over to the four. She kissed her Dad and said hello to the others.

Several other residents saw the Fossdyke’s arrive, and, seeing them and the Chew’s going into the recreation room, they risked venturing in. A few brave old souls nervously sat down and waited to hear the music, hoping it would be a piano recital. However, they became unnerved when they saw Charles’s piano in the corner behind the four at thier instruments.

Steve glared at them, shook his hips, and curled his top lip.

Wayne counted them in and they played, Life is Too Short to Be Sad. When they finished, they went straight into the ballad, Vulnerable.

Fossils, engrossed in their song, did not see the shocked expressions on their audience faces. The melodic ballad made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. Bernard filmed the performance on his camcorder; flitting around the room, getting shots from various angles, imagining himself to be Steven Spielberg until Lucy motioned him to sit down.

Charles’s croaky, melancholy tenor voice echoed around the recreation room.

Pearl and Svend Neilsen, a lovely old couple in their eighties, went to the floor in front of the band and waltzed to the tune. Doreen and Stan Bullen, another loving elderly couple living at Fossdyke, joined in with a waltz. Other residents wandered in after hearing the music and were now dancing or stood behind the seating area bobbing their heads and tapping their feet.

“We should have put more chairs out,” said Steve, through a musical interlude.

The old musicians couldn’t stop smiling when they saw the small crowd’s reaction.

They continued playing as other people, including Bernard and Lucy, got up to dance with even the Chews joining in.

They finished performing Cry Alone and Charles, seeing people dancing in front of them, didn’t want to up the tempo, so nodded to the others and they played Vulnerable again.

Amazed, they performed their ballads twice before playing Rolling Thunder. They assumed that the small crowd of dancers would all sit down. However, they carried on dancing, just changing their steps and movements to keep in beat with the music. It looked like a geriatric head-banging convention.

The band finished and the small audience stared at them in awe.

Lucy rushed over to her father and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“That was great, Dad,” she said, as the others in the room gave the band a rapturous round of applause.

Even Mrs Chew looked impressed. She smiled and winked at Wayne, who cringed, hoping Mr Chew had noticed. Mr Chew hadn’t but didn’t care because he couldn’t wait to tell his mates he had heard Fossils play, and they were great.

The impromptu gig was a tremendous success.

The following morning, the anxious four looked on as Steve’s friends pulled up outside the home in a white Ford transit van. They loaded the band's equipment for the two-minute drive to the Wellow. Fossils then took a steady stroll along to the pub to set up their equipment. They did a soundcheck and had an afternoon libation.

They felt trepidation as they ate their evening meal before heading to the Wellow. Dressed in well-creased summer slacks with collars, ties, V-neck pullovers and with Charles wearing his trilby, they strutted along the road. The four elderly throwbacks from Saturday Night Fever arrived at the pub. Crowds of youngsters were already inside as the four ordered drinks and sat by the stage near their equipment.

The old musicians sat and watched as the bar filled with people who had come to watch the live music, and by 7:40 pm, the lounge bustled with customers.

At 7:55 pm, the four took to the stage and went to their respective instruments.

Cosmo went to Steve’s microphone while sporadic chortles echoed around the room from people who had seen the old codgers sat drinking. They assumed they were just old relics who come to see the live music; nobody imagined that THEY were the live music.

“Ladies and gentleman,” said Cosmo and waited for the audience to settle, before announcing. “Please put your hands together for the fabulous... Fossils,”

With butterflies in their stomachs and ignoring the chattering and laughter coming from the young audience, they began playing.

They kicked off with Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’, deciding that their first song should be a well-known classic and give the crowd a familiar sound. Although looking around at the ages of those present, Steve wondered whether half of them had ever even heard of Clapton. ‘They probably thought it was a venereal disease,’ he thought.

Steve felt nervous; it had been many years since he had played to a live audience. He heard laughter and jibes about their ages coming from the youngsters, so he avoided eye contact with the crowd. He played the opening riff and his uncontrollable bowel reacted to his stage fright, performing its symphony in, ‘G’ Fucking Rancid Flat Major.

Noxious, foul-smelling, gaseous flares emitted from Steve’s rectal trumpet, wafted around the pub's lounge by the stage fans. Within seconds, the foul odour filled the room, with the crowd engulfed in the disgusting smelling emission.

“Some bastard’s letting off stink bombs,” said one of the fine patrons of the establishment.

“Fucking Yorkie bastards,” said another, pointing to a group of upstanding young individuals from the white rose county, who smashed bottles and threw them at the other youths.

The pub became a free for all. Fists, bottles, Yorkie's, and furniture flew around the room as pandemonium broke out. Fossils stopped playing and the frightened old men stood behind their equipment, cowering. Steve apologised for his windy pops and the others said they would forgive him if they got out of the violence unscathed. The police arrived and cleared the pub, although most of the perpetrators had already scarpered.

The four terrified old men made their way off the stage and sat at a table, trembling.

After order got restored, Cosmo came over and apologised, blaming the Yorkies with their stink bombs. He gave the four a whisky and a pint of beer each and cancelled the gig.

With disappointment etched upon their faces, the four old men packed their instruments away. Wayne, Charles, and Elvin threw Steve dirty looks. They knew that he could not control his bowels, but couldn’t figure out why he had been nervous. He had always claimed that he was a rock ‘n’ roll legend, who played to packed venues.

After packing away their instruments, they sat in the now deserted lounge. The bar staff had almost cleaned up the damage from the brawl, but remnants of the foul smell lingered.

Cosmo gave the old men more beer and whisky, hoping that they would understand that he couldn’t afford to pay them the agreed fee.

“We don’t care about the money,” said Steve.

“We just wanted to perform,” said Elvin, looking sad.

Cosmo looked at the faces of the disappointed old men, and feeling sorry for them, made them an offer. “How about I let you use the room to practice in during the week? We don't book entertainment for Tuesday or Thursday’s, so how about you practice here? I won’t be able to pay you, but you're welcome to use the place, and who knows, you may attract some fans.”

The four looked at one another.

“That’s a great idea,” said Steve, and the others agreed.

Cosmo’s offer meant that they could practice twice a week at the Wellow. Fossils felt pleased because it meant the old Fossdyke residents could use the recreation room undisturbed for two nights a week, so they wouldn’t moan as much. It also meant the band would get used to playing in front of a younger audience and it sounded an ideal solution. They chatted with Cosmo throughout the evening as he brought them more beer and whisky.

The old farts got merrily spannered and staggered back to Fossdyke arm in arm.

Charles lay on his bed, closed his eyes, and chuckled as he told Mary.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.