A Fine Line Between Darkness and Light

 A Fine Line Between Darkness and Light

By Lee Friend

For NaNoWriMo 2011

It felt like the days were getting longer, though in reality it was December and were getting shorter.  As I stood by the kitchen window looking out, a sound of an helicopter flew pass.  I looked up at the sky above, a cloudy and cold first of December this as turned out to be.  I looked down at the gardens below, the trees and their leaves had all but turned a reddish brown, some leaves already had fallen off onto the ground below.  
So how long had it been since I was stuck here at home indoors, unemployed.  Although foggy a thought it has become, I can still recollect a summer two years past when I was last had work.  Then again it felt a lot longer than two years, more like three or four, the lines were getting blurred with age.  What I do know one hundred percent was it had been a year since Kelly packed up her bags and left me.  A note she left on the dining room table said it all.  “John, You are too fucked up in the head to be around with anymore.  Have a nice life!  I know I will, Kelly.”  Well that was Kelly!  Blunt and straight to the point as usual.  I knew then that there was no point chasing her.  We had one to many breakups in our three years as a couple.  I knew then the split would be permanent and I would not see her ever again.

I looked inside myself, wondering how it came to this.  The downfall of our relationship started with the pressure of my last job.  The long hours stuck behind a VDU 12 hours or so a day was a toll on my health.  A visit to my local GP diagnosed me with clinical depression, I knew my time with this company was over. I was advised to look after number 1. “Take off a few months, take the prescribed medication, and things will get better you’ll see”, said the doctor.  So I did as I was advised.  Well the one month turned to two months, that led to six month, it when on and on.  Did I feel fully recovered? I felt low.  Being alone in the apartment had certainly made me into an unsociable closed in animal.  

I guess I’m lucky to have a few friends though they were scattered across the south east of Britain.  The ones who use email and Facebook, I kept in touch with regularly, but that didn’t detach from the numerous hours alone indoors, looking out of windows, surfing the Internet.
I moved away from the kitchen window.  In my mind I knew that things were going to have to change.  I can’t be stuck in doors, jobless forever.  I need to get a life otherwise it will be gone.  I walked over to my iPod player and selected Classics, Bach’s Air Suite No 3.  I moved over and sat down at the dining table, my laptop switch on, I drifted off into dreamland.  That haunting beautiful piece of music for an instant made me forget about my worries, as I looked towards the kitchen window, the red clouded sky outside and the setting of the sun.

I locked my street door, and started the descent down 3 flights of stairs to the car park.  Half way down the stair, walking up was Brian Dooley, my neighbour across the landing.

“Hi John, how are things?”

“Ho alright there Brian, yeah ain’t bad thanks, and you?,” I said hurriedly as we both stood on the stairwell.

“Well you know, getting ready for Christmas, got some presents for my daughter and the old girl in these bags.” said Brian.  “Where are you off to this time of evening?”  Brian the nosey parker, I thought.

“Off to Asda for a bit of food shopping.”

“Funny time to shop, are you a vampire or something?”  Brian smiled.  “I already got my shopping at the weekend, so I’m off to watch the catch up on Eastenders.  I better let you go!”

Thank fuck for that, I thought.  

“Okay bye!” I said as I leaped past Brian and headed to the ground floor.

Luckily for me the nearest and decent supermarket was only a few minutes drive from my apartment.  As I parked my car near the front of the store, the weather felt like it was getting colder, though it was only five after eight pm.  
I started shopping during late evenings, ever since the local supermarket became open 24 hours a day.  It was one way to get away from the madding crowds of daytime shoppers, especially the mums with their screaming children running around with the shopping trolleys and prams, knocking them into your legs.

I navigated the isles of shelves like an experimental lab rat in a maze.  Now where was the isle that had baked beans?  Ah!  Near to where the sugar and flour is stored.  Still what’s the rush in shopping, it peaceful here this evening and not a child in sight!  And I’m out of my apartment, free, stretching my legs as I push this shopping trolley along at my own pace.  Over the tannoy they were playing Hall and Oats greatest hits, hypnotherapeutic music it is.  This supermarket certainly seemed stuck in the nineteen eighties, that I feel like that a fictional detective in the television drama Ashes to Ashes.  

My average shopping time would be an hour.  By the time I’d reach the checkout my trolley would usually be only a quarter full.  How much can you spend these days while on income support?  I am always looking for the 3 for 2 offers, or buy 1 get another half price.

I noticed during my trips to this particular supermarket that late shoppers are predominately women shopping on their lonesome.  Not that ever I had the opportunity to chat up a nice woman, but I have had more than a few smiles in my time.  Well I am not that bad looking, average height, a full head of hair, though my granddad was bald, it could happen to me anytime now.  However, this trip to the supermarket something out of the ordinary was about to happen.  I was strolling along down the biscuits and crisps isle looking for my rich tea digestives.  They were on offer because I had a coupon that I cut from last week’s Radio Times, buy 1 get 1 free of course.  Still, I was weighing up the prices between the supermarkets own brand and Mcvities when, to the left of me a woman appear.  Though I didn’t notice her until she was around 20 feet away, she moved slowly along the isle towards me.  She had no shopping trolley or basket, but was carrying her shopping in her arms.  She was looking at the shelves that held packets of crisps.  Suddenly I heard a noise and I turned around.  Most of her shopping had fell out from arms and lay scattered about her feet.  

“Ho Shit!” she said as she bent down trying to scoop up what was on the floor.  I walked a few steps toward her and said “Here, let me help you.”

“Ah it okay, I think I can manage,” she replied as she tried to pick up a 6 pack packets of salt and vinegar.  As she did, her copy of OK magazine fell out of her arms.  

“Here let me pick up them for you,” I said.

“Ah, okay, thanks,” she replied, looking a bit embarrassed.  “It’s really my fault.  I should have grabbed a basket to carry this lot when I came in.”

Kneeling down to pick up her shopping, I grabbed the items and stood up.  For the first time I got to have a good look at her.  She was around five foot six, slim, blonde hair and blue eyes.  She had a nice complexion, not like most of the women who shop there who wear far too much makeup and have permanent brown tan on their faces.  

“Thanks again.  You know what it’s like, I’m not a big fan of shopping, but I do come here often, and you?” she replied.  

“Er, yes a couple of times a week.  I like looking at their book section that they’ve got here.  It’s cheaper than buying online.”

“I see by what you have in your basket, you’re a bit of a Stephen King Fan,” as she pointed at my book.

“Yeah, this is the second time I’ve got hold of a copy of The Shining.  I read it once during my student days many years ago, lost my copy, now it time for a re-read of it.”

“Nice,” she replied.  We paused for an instant that seemed more than a minute, staring at one another.  “My name’s Mandy, and yours is?”

“Jonathan, Jonathan Keys but friends call me just John.”  Her eyes glistened, and a wide grin of a smile came over her face.  

“Okay John it is.”

There was a pause in conversation again.  Mandy grin seemed frozen.

“Look John, I gotta rush somewhere, but I’ll give you my number, maybe we can chat over coffee one time, I’m buying to say thank you for your help.”

Well I wasn’t expecting that!  Quite forward a woman she is, but whom was I to turn her down.

“Sure, let’s do that!”  She got out a biro from her handbag.  “Give me your hand”.  She jotted it down on the cheek of my hand.  I took out my wallet, and grab my flimsy business card.  “Here you go.”

“Wow, okay.  Very professional,” she replied with that grin.  “Right I’m off to the self checkout.  See you around John.”

Before I could respond, she turned around and was off half way down the shopping aisle.  I stood there for a moment pondering what just had happened, before resuming my shopping.  I grabbed a packet of Digestives and put them in my basket.  I might I’ll be sharing these over a cup of tea in the non to distant future, I thought.  Thirty minutes later I finished my shopping, went home and ate a Spag Bol microwave dinner.  Tasty!

The next day, well 14 or so hours afterwards that brief encounter, I went outside for my morning stroll.  I did this every morning on good advice from the doctor, for the goodness of my heart he said.  I had to make it pump alot of blood around my body, so I always walked at a pace.  The doctor would have preferred me to jog, but I couldn’t keep up a pace no longer than 2 minutes.  Practically I was useless at jogging and could never run, even when I was a teenager which I believed was the fittest time I had been.  The river Thames on a bright sunny but cold morning was lovely and peaceful.  As I walked along the Thames path I saw the usual dog walkers being led by their dogs and joggers running, it’s was peaceful morning, a great stroll along toward the Greenwich Foot Tunnel.  I reached the tunnel and stood by riverside, looking across the Thames to Greenwich.  I wished I had an apartment with that view, I thought.  I sat down on the wooden bench behind me and took in the atmosphere.  The trees around me were shedding their leaves, and the wind was blowing at a gentle breeze.  A man sat down on the same bench as me.  “Nice day isn’t it?” he replied.

“Yes, indeed, for a December’s day,” I said.  The man looked in his late 70’s, greying around the sides, wore a cap, scarf and jacket.

“Ah when I was your age, I use to walk all along the river Thames during this time of year.  Nowadays I can’t walk very far from my flat just over yonder,” as he pointed across the river to the council estate situated nearby the Cutty Sark.

“Yeah, I guess this area has changed alot over the years,” I replied.

“Indeed son, very modernised now, especially that giant spaceship, I like to call it, the Millennium Dome.  Another waste of money this country has spent on.”  I smiled back and semi nodded.

“I’ve lived around this area all my life.  I use to be a Docker you know.  Ah along time ago before you were born.”  He smiled again, as he began fumbling around the inside of his jacket.

“I’ll expect it’ll be a cool winter this year.  The leaves are nearly all off the trees.  I see the frosty mornings are back.”  The old man took out of his inside jacket a pipe and tobacco.  “This keeps the old fires burning.” He smiled.  

“Yeah, Winter is definitely here,” I responded while watching the man light up his pipe.  “Christmas is just around the corner”.

“Ah Christmas.  My daughter and my grandson will be visiting for Christmas Day dinner.  They live in Maidstone Kent, but they use to live here in Greenwich, that was before her ex-husband took her away from me.  A bastard of a man, he would beat and hit her.  I’m so glad that they’re not together anymore!  I’m going to try and convince her to move back around here.  I haven’t got anyone else but her since my Ivy passed away 2 Christmases ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I replied

“Yeah my Ivy, she was a strong one, kept me on my toes.  Ain’t half get lonely without her nagging at me.  Are you married son?”

“Er, no”

“Ah well you’ve plenty of time”, he replied.

“I guess so.”  

The conversation paused as we watched a tug pulling a long line of industrial crates slowly floating past us.  A brown leaf fell from the tree above, landed on my lap.  I brush it off, as it fell to the ground by my feet.

“Right, I’m off.” I said the old man.  “Okay youngster, and remember, a tip from an old man.  Live you life, you’ll be as old as me before you know it!”

“Okay, thanks for the advice”, I replied as I got up, turned around and head back towards home.

I reached home 20 minutes later, just as it started to rain.  As I walked through my door, I picked up my mail, and closed the door behind me.  It was the usual junk mail, plus my gas bill.  I turned around towards the door and hanging out of my letterbox was a card.  I grabbed it and read.  It was an advert for a Jazz bar called The Blue Velvet located somewhere near Chinatown.  On the back of the card was a list of music events being performed that week.  A closer inspection, one of the events had been marked with a red marker.  The act was called The Silk Panther Quartet, performing tonight at 9pm.  First drink is free if you bring this card with you. Okay, I thought, I haven’t had a night out since my friend Rob got me drunk at the Ye Ole Black Bull pub in Stratford.  And that was nearly 6 months ago during our hot summer.  So someone wanted me to go see this act tonight.  Hmm was it my mate Rob?  Anyhow whoever marked this card with pen, what have I got to lose?  I needed a good night out away from my apartment – or so I thought.

The rest of that day I occupied myself with a few household chores: washing up, dusting, and hovering.  I decided what I was going to wear that evening:  A nice shirt, brown chinos, a modern suit jacket, and shiny new polished shoes.  I’m rarely this smart unless I go to job interviews – and I haven’t had many of those lately.  I then remembered I forgot one thing.  My hair, it was a mess.  The time was 5 o clock.  I had just enough time to visit my Barbers.  I quickly got dressed, and nipped outside to the bus stop.  I wasn’t going to attempt to drive there, as I would need to find a parking meter and if I did find one, would cost me nearly a fiver to park for an hour.  Taking a bus was the easier option, it was just across the road from my apartment block.  I stood there underneath the bus shelter, the rain was coming down hard.  I squeezed up to the man next to me, hoping to get better cover from an increasing packed bus stop.  He looked at me kind strange, his face telling me, what do you think you’re doing.  I smiled back and said to him “Don’t wanna get wet.”  Around the 10 minute mark, the number 7 bus arrived.  We all queued up nice to get on, that was until a bunch of teenage lads pushed in front, laughing and giggling.  I wanted to say something, but it was dark, and I was semi wet and cold.  Probably they were packing something too, so I opted to say nothing.  I mean who would back me up?  Nobody.  I finally got on the bus and sat down stairs.  Twenty minutes later I made it to Mile End where my Barber had his shop.  A short walk from the bus stop, I walked across Mile End road onto Burdett Road.  The rain had turned to a light drizzle, though I didn’t want to get wet anymore than I already was.  I made it just as the clock was turning half past 5.  I opened the door, and the barber turned around towards me, as he was finishing brushing a customer’s hair, who was sat in the barbers chair.  “Hi!” I replied, “not too late am I?”

“No come in quick, I should be able to fit you in.”

I sat down.  A few magazines on the chair beside me I picked up and looked at.  A couple of minutes later, the customer in the chair was gone.  I sat in the barber’s chair.  

“So how are you?” replied the Barber.  

“Yeah, not too bad thanks”.

“Hows the job hunting?”, he replied.

“Could be better.  I’ve decided to call it off and learn some computing skills at home until the new year when I’ll start looking once again.”

“Ah I see, well it’s tough out there at the moment.  I heard on the radio that more jobs are being lost in London.”

“Yeah?”, I replied

“Yes, and the forecast is grim, very grim.  By the way, what do you want done?”

“I’ll have a number 2 on the side and a 3 on top.”

“That’s a bit shorter than you usually have it.”, he replied.

“Yeah I thought I’d have something different.”

“Indeed.”  As he grabbed the trimmer situation next to the sink.  He took off a blade, and put on the number 3.  We chatted more as he started trimming off my hair like a lamb being sheared in springtime.

“How are your parents?  Still enjoying living the life in Hornchurch?” He asked.

“Yep it seems they got out of Mile End at the right time.  It’s not really a place for anyone to enjoy their retirement in.  Anywhere in London isn’t a place for old people is it?”

“Yeap.  I wish me and the wife could move out, but at this rate I’ll be working until I die.”

I responded with a facial grin of an expression.  Not much you can express when a trimmer is gliding through your hair.  I didn’t want to occur any accidents.

“So what are you doing for Christmas this year?”  I would asked him this question every year around this time, and I’m sure he gets asked it by mostly everyone of his customers, he might get ticked off quite a bit hearing it, but not my barber – it seemed.

“Ah,” he smiled.  “The usual.  Having my wife’s sister around for Christmas Day dinner, watch a bit of telly, not much else to do.  What are you doing?”

“I might be off to my parents place.” I replied.  “I’m wondering if it’s going to be another white Christmas?”  As I said that, on the Barber’s portable radio, Cliff Richards’s Mistletoe and Wine started playing.  Very seasonal I thought, as the barber spoke: “I heard on the radio earlier on that it could start snowing tonight.  A bit early isn’t it.”

“Well it’s been a mild winter so far, I’ll be surprised the temperature will be going down that low tonight.” I replied, whilst looking in the mirror at my new very short haircut.

I reach home around 6pm that evening.  The rain had stopped, but the temperature outside felt that it had dropped a couple of degrees compared to an hour ago.  I thought maybe I’ll swap the suit jacket for my woollen 3 quarter length jacket.  The jacket still had the Royal Legion’s red poppy pinned to it.  About time this winter jacket saw a bit of winter, I thought.

The wall clock in the kitchen reached 6:30pm.  I looked out the window.  Hmm I thought, doesn’t look that bad outside, but you know UK weather, it can change on you in an instant.  Better get ready to go.  I got dressed and put on my new cologne my Nan gave me two Christmases ago.  Hmm haven’t smelt this sweet in a while, I thought, though maybe a less of the cologne next time I decide to have a night out.  As I was about to leave the apartment, I received a phone call for my mother.  Since my split with Kelly, my mother always phoned me daily to see how I was.  I guess that you’re never too old to be your mother’s little baby.  I think also being an only child, that made thing more intense.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine Mum,” I replied.

“So what have you being doing today?”

I gave her at outline of the days events, and mentioned to her that I was going out to a Jazz club.  She wasn’t too pleased in me going out late at night.

“Are you sure?  It’s going to snow tonight in London.  Why not go out another night?” she replied anxiously.

“Mum don’t worry, I’ll be fine.  I’m going to get a cab down there and back.”  There was a slight pause on the phone before my mum replied.

“Well I still think you should stay at home and keep warm”.

“Thanks mum I’ll be fine.  I’ll speak to you tomorrow”, I replied, wanting to finish the conversation as I was behind schedule.  The line went dead.  Didn’t I miss my mum say goodbye?  Maybe her batteries on her mobile run out.  Anyway I was in a rush, as I wanted to get catch a bite to eat before I went to the jazz club.  Right I was ready! I grabbed my wallet, mobile phone and street door keys and was out the door by just after ten to seven.  Outside the door I looked up the road to hail a taxi.  I saw smoke come out of my mouth.  Yes indeed it was going to be a cold night.  It took me around a quarter of an hour before I found an empty cab.  I hailed it just off Manchester road.

“Where to mate?” the cabbie replied in a semi-cockney London voice.

“Piccadilly please,” I replied

“Okay, get in.”

We drove off, down to Westferry road, through the Limehouse tunnel, and onward down the Highway.  Along the way we had a chat, mostly about London.  Most London cabbies always liked to talk about London.  They listened to LBC talk radio shows on their radios.

“It’s amazing mate, how busy the West End has been today, since the Christmas lights were turned on last week by that pop group Mcfly.” said the cabbie.

“Yeah?” I replied, not totally concentrating on what he was say, as I was checking my emails and text messages on my mobile.

“Yeah, I can’t believe Christmas is only a few weeks away.  There are tons of shoppers up here today.  I picked up a woman down Oxford street, she was juggling around 5 bags full of goodies.  She was a stressed out girl.  I bet she had a large family to buy presents for.  Me, well I’ve just me, the wife and my boy Jake.”

“Well they say Christmas these days is too consumerism.  We don’t have so much of the Christmas spirit anymore in this country, like we did in the 1980’s.”, I replied.

“You said it man, you said it.  I remember as a kid living in Barking, every year we use to go to Christmas service at our local church.  Mostly all the family in our neighbourhood would go.  We’d sing Christmas carols, have the scriptures read to us, and just have a really good time.  Sad to say those days are nearly over, well I know in Barking, where I still live to this day, as changed a lot.  Half the neighbourhood these days who live nearby me come from other parts of world, and don’t want to mix with us White folk.”

“That’s changing time isn’t it”, I replied.  Funny I went to the University at Barking during my early twenties.  The shops there do make an effort with Christmas time.

“Ah what year was that then?” replied the cabbie.

“Mid nineties,” I replied.

“Well son, Barking has changed a lot since those days.  The BNP nearly got voted in last year because a lot of the older original people who’ve lived there all their lives, felt like their views and opinion on their neighbour wasn’t being listen too.  Now I’ve never voted BNP, they’re fascists really, and my old man would turn in his grave if he found out, but I’m just sick of how Barking as changed, bringing too many immigrants into the borough.  Just like where you live on the Docklands.  Too many immigrants right mate?”

“Well the east end as certainly changed over the years.  I went to college in Poplar that was around 85% immigrants or sons and daughters of immigrants, mainly from Pakistan and Bangladesh.  I guess though that’s our changing world.”  I replied.

“Yeah well I think it’s wrong!”, the cabbie snapped back at me.  I paused for a moment to think about what to say next.  This cabbie was getting angry, his face was turning.

“Well that’s life!” I said in a quiet tone.  The cab begin to slow down, as we were approaching the Victoria Embankment.  He stopped dead.

“Get out!” he shouted.

“Excuse me,” I replied.

“Get out now!  I don’t want your kind in my cab.

I saw he meant what he said.  I was stunned as it was only a conversation.  Anyhow not wanted to antagonise the cabbie any further, I opened the door and got out.

“Bloody racist, against your own kind! Pig!”, he shouted, redder in the face.  He put his foot down on the accelerator and sped off.

I stood there on the side of the road.  I couldn’t believe what just happened.  I’m a racist?  God can’t I have my own views on life!  So there I was, stuck in the middle of nowhere.  I looked across the road and I could see the London Underground sign for Temple.  I think I’ll go by tube the rest of my journey.

I reached the bright lights of Piccadilly at just gone 7:45pm.  I walked out of the station, and stood next to the statue of Eros.  I look up at him.  Alright mate! I thought.  I bet you don’t have a problem finding love.  Right, where to grab a bite to eat?  I looked around.  I could feel the freezing cold on my face.  I was glad that I wore my woollen jacket.  The lights surrounding me from shops were burning my eyes.  A sign caught my eye.  TGI Fridays, situated opposite across the Haymarket.  Burger and fries it is!  I walked across the road, reaching the entrance.  A woman was standing by the entrance in a red and white stripy shirt with badges all over it, red braces holding up her black trousers.  A big smile was on her face as she looked at me.  “Can I help you sir?  Dinner for one?”

“Only if I can have one of your badges?” I replied grinning.

She laughed.  “Okay then.”  

She lead me inside, you could hear the chatter of couples and groups all around you.  She took me over and seated me down on a side table, nearby a window.

“I’ll be right back.” She replied.

I had a look at the menu.  Quarter pounder with blue cheese it is, I thought.  I glance out of the window to the bright lights outside, and the people walking on by, mostly wearing scarfs and wooley hats.  In the back of my mind, a slight warning light emerged.  Do I really know what I’m letting myself in for tonight?  Had my life reached a stage where I need some mysterious excitement?  To get me out and away of the apartment, away from the doldrums of evening cable television entertainment?  I must admit I wasn’t sure that tonight was the right night to be outside.  Frickin cold!

“Here a badge for you.  Can I take your order sir?”

I left TGI Fridays, a full stomach, to battle the cold air around me.  Right let me get my bearings.  The Blue Velvet was situation off Chinatown and Shaftesbury Avenue, a side road called Rupert Street.  My luck, my mobile Google Maps pointed to it just a couple of minutes away from where I was standing.  I crossed Coventry Street and began walking up.  The first turn on the left was Rupert street.  Okay, so it was somewhere along here.  My Google Map told me 3 quarters of the way up this road.  As I begin walking, I notices how quieter this street was to the main street I came off of.  Like a smokey feel to it out of a noir film.  I can see this street was perfect for a jazz club to reside.  As I walked further on up I could see a flashing blue neon sign flashing the words The Blue Velvet.

As I reach the doorway a couple were in front of me lining up, talking to a doorman.  They went through.

“Can I have you clubcard please”, said the doorman.

Hmm, something that I do not have, I thought, a bad start.

“Er, I do not have a card, but I do have this flyer”, I said as I pulled the flyer out of my pocket and showed it to him.  He stared at the flyer for a moment, then looked back at me.

“How do you get this?” he replied.

“It was put through my door.”

“Strange, as we usually don’t put these through anyone door.  These flyers are for members only, for a free drink.”

“Well, someone put it through mine.  Look, they marked the card in red.”

He looked at the card once more.  “I see,” he said.  “Well it could be that your name was put on our special guest list.  What is your name?”

I told him my name, and he turned and disappeared through the door.  Man it cold standing here outside.  I hope this isn’t a wasted journey.  Members only club.  I hope it ain’t a seedy joint.  

The doorman appeared.

“This way sir,” as he pointed through the door to the dark ahead.

I walked pass the doorman, and down some steps.  There was hardly any light apart from the odd spotlight on the wall, lighting up the odd picture of a musician or group, and the stairwell below me.  I assumed the pictures must be Jazz greats, but what did I know.  I only knew Louis Armstrong, but so did everyone else right?  After fumbling taking each step as carefully as I could, I made it to the bottom, in front of me a door.  I opened it.  There was a bigger room, with a large desk in front of me, behind that desk a women.  She looked up at me.  “Good Evening sir.”

“Good evening,” I replied back, as I scoped out the room.  “At least it’s a lot brighter in here than what I just walked down,” I said to the women.

“Ah yes,” she smiled, “Ambience, to create an atmosphere.”

“I see”, I replied “Nearly broke my neck come down those stairs.” I laughed.

She smiled back.  “Can I take your jacket?”

“Ho no, that’s fine.  I like to keep it nearby.”  In the back of my mind I was think, best to have the jacket near me in case I don’t like this club I can make a quick exit.

“Okay sir, this way to the Jazz bar,” as she pointed to a pair of double doors.

I walked over and pushed the doors with both hands.  In front of me the floor, with groups of people sitting behind small round tables, and at the end a stage with a Trumpeter playing.  To my left was a bar with stools, and a barman serving a customer sitting there.  I turned around as a man came up to me.

“Hello sir, you’re new here?  Have you a special table booked for tonight’s show?”

“Ah, good question, my name is on the guest list, but I didn’t book anything.”  I told him my name.

“Yes, there is a special table reserved for you near the front, this way please.”

We skimmed through rows of chairs and tables, moving up toward the stage.  

“Here you are sir.”  I was situated a row behind a couple of people and the stage was ahead of them.

“Thank you,” I said, as I sat down.

“No problem sir.  What drink do you want?”

“Hmm.  A double bourbon whiskey and water thank you.” I replied.

“No problem sir, I’ll bring it over to you shortly.”

I smiled back at him as he walked off.  I slowly scanned the area around me.  So I was here.  Dim lighting, no surprise there, this certainly had a mood of a Jazz club, though what do I know, this was my first time in one.  The trumpeter was blowing away, making some great sounds.  A moment later, my whisky and water was bought over.

Ah refreshments!  I need this whisky to warm me up.

The trumpeter had his last blow of the trumpet.  The crowd began clapping.  I looked at my watch, nearly 9pm.  The Silk Panther Quartet will be on soon.  I hope they’re worth the trip whoever they are.

I sipped my whisky.  Ah, warming me cockles already.  I needed that.  As I looked up, a man came onto the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemans.  Our next act really needs no introduction to The Blue Velvet as they’ve played here many times before, but I’m going to give them one anyway.  Welcome! The Silk Panther Quartet, featuring special guest singer Mandy Kelelur!”

The crowd began to clap and me along with them.  The band came on stage putting their hands up acknowledging the audience.  A women grabbed the microphone, she looked familiar.

“Hi there!” she said to the audience.  

It was Mandy from the supermarket. 

“It’s great to be singing once again at The Blue Velvet Club.  I can’t get enough of the place.  Anyway here we go!”  As she said that, she looked over to where I was, smiled and acknowledged me.  I smile back – though I was smiling since I recognised her. So it was her who put the card through my door.  How did she know where I lived?  Then again did it matter?  This could be the start of something special.

During that evening, she sung song after song, songs that I even knew, which helped.  I watched her and the band intensely throughout their set.  After my second whisky I didn’t really care what the music sounded like, it was all good to me.  As the last song ended, the crowds clapped in appreciation, as Mandy and the band took their bows.

The lights came on, as they all went off stage.  Mandy walked to the steps attached to the stage, went down them and walked towards me.  I stood up and clapped my hands a few times.  

“Well done.  Wow you are good!”

“Ah thanks John”, she replied.  “You got my message I see.  I bet you didn’t expect to see me here.” She smiled as we both sat down.

“Well you sure know how to surprise a person!” I replied.  “I thought it might be an old friend of mine playing a trick on me.”  She laughed.

A waiter came over.  “Any drinks for the two of you?”

“Yes, Whisky and Coke please”

“Bloody Mary for me James,” replied Mandy.

“So how did you learn how to sing like that!?!”

“Ah it just came to me.  Well my mother was a club singer, though seventies disco classic, not jazz.”

“I see.  How long have you been singing in clubs?”

“About 4 years.  I use to sing at my old University’s student bar.  When I left University, my degree in sociology wasn’t getting me any work, so I took up singing part time around pubs to earn some money, pay the bills.”

“Well I can see why singing is your thing.  You have a great voice.”

“Ah thanks.  I’m so glad you came along in the end.  I thought my innocent flyer through your door that you might not see the highlighted show in red pen I circled on it.”

“Well I did, though next time you can just knock on my door, or leave a note with your name on it.”

“Hah ha who said there’s going to be a next time.  I might not like you.”

“Awe, don’t say that, I thought we getting along fine.” I smiled as I replied.

She smiled as she sipped her Bloody Mary like a vampires sucking blood from somebody’s neck.  A new act hit the stage, a Frank Sinatra lookalike and his band, their opening number: ‘One for my baby and one more for the road’.  Probably one of the few jazz songs I did know of.  The song added to the dark smokey atmosphere of the club that had built up over the last hour since my arrival.

“So what do you do for a job?” she asked.

“Well I use to work as a Web Developer, building and supporting web sites.”

“All very techie techie,” she replied.

“Yeah something like that,” I replied.  “Currently I’m out of work, living off my savings and the state.  Not fun, but I’m looking hard to find something.”

“Well I know who to see if my Windows decides not to work,” she smiled.

As I sip my whisky, a man glides over and touches Mandy on the shoulder.  Mandy turns her head around and smiles.

“Hi Eric”, she says.

“Hi! I loved your performance by the way.  Sublime!”

“I try my best to please.”  

She turned her head back toward me.  “John, this is Eric, my agent.  Eric this is my new friend John.”

“Hi John.” 

I replied back.  Eric was short, around 5 foot 2, he had dark eyes and jet black hair, dyed of course, combed back held together with gel.  He looked like someone from an old black and white movie, not from this era.   Eric sat down inbetween us.

“So John, are you a fan of Mandy?  She has many fans you know.”

Mandy smiled.  “Well you could say I’m a new fan of her music”, I replied, as I sipped my Whiskey.

“Well, the more fans Mandy has the merrier we all are.  By the way, I’m still trying to get us that gig in Edinburgh for Hogmanay.  Just need the confirmation from the venue’s music director and it’ll be a sure-fire thing.”

“Great, I’m going freeze up there this New Years Eve, I hope the venue has good heating.”

“Hey, trust me, have I ever booked a bad venue for you yet?  Just rely on old Eric to get you the top gigs.  By the way anyone for drinks?”

“I’m fine thanks,” I replied.

“No thanks Eric.”

“Hey I forgot to mention, it’s Eighties club night at Bennys tonight at 11pm.  Wanna go?” grinned Eric 

“Now that sounds like a plan,” replied Mandy.  “John, have you been to Bennys before?”

“I haven’t been to a club for years, apart from this one tonight”, I replied.

“Wanna go to Bennys then?  I think you’ll like it.  You get a good over thirties crowd there”.

Two clubs in one night I was thinking.  Very daring for me.  But Mandy seemed determined to go, so I might as well go along with it.  I also believed my feelings for Mandy were getting stronger every minute in her presents.

“Sure, I’ll come along,” I replied.

“Lets get our jackets,” said Mandy to Eric.  “John we’ll meet you outside in 5 minutes.

“Okay, no problem.”

I had one last drop left of whiskey in the glass, so I down that in one.  Mandy and Eric walked off toward the bar and through a side door, I assumed to her dressing room.  I got up and walked towards the exit, up the stairs to the cold outside.

I waited a few minutes before Mandy and Eric came out.  They were laughing at something as they came towards the exit, what it was I didn’t know.  

“So, which way?  Ah yes that away,” as Mandy pointed south.  So we started walking.  The temperature seemed to have dropped even further than early that evening.  It felt that it had hit the zero and was falling fast.  We got to the end of Rupert street turned left and headed towards Leicester Square.  Surprisingly there was still a crowd of people hanging around, some people here on vacation enjoying the London nightlife, others just coming out of the Odeon Cinema.  Restaurant windows full up with people eating in the warm, I wished I was in a warm cosy place.  

Just off the ‘Square was Irving street, populated with restaurants and bars.  Half way down we could see sign for Bennys.  The place was familiar to me, as we stopped by the doorway it came to me.  “This use to be called the Oxygen Bar,” I said

“Hey I though you don’t go clubbing much?” said Mandy.

“Well I am talking 10 years ago, when I was a little younger.”

 “It must have been a long time, I’ve been coming here for years and it’s always been known as Bennys, right Eric?”

“Yep, you betcha.  Shall we go in else I’ll be frozen to the spot if we talk here any longer.”  We entered through the door in front of us.  There was a reception.  “Fifteen pounds per person please,” said the girl sitting there.

“It’s on me folks,” said Eric as he delved into his coat jacket pulling out a rather bulky-looking wallet.

“You can see now why I have him as an agent,” laughed Mandy.

“But you’re buying the first round love,” replied Eric.

We walked pass two bouncer, who towered above us, as we entered the club.  I could hear Chaka Khans’s ‘I feel for you’, being played really loud.  “To the bar!” said Mandy, the bar being to the left of us.  “First round on me,” I said.  “What are you all having?”

“Vodka and coke for me,” said Mandy leaning against the bar.  “Eric?”

“A pint of Stella.”

After spending 5 minutes trying to catch the bar woman’s attention, I place the drinks order, including a pint of London Pride for myself.  Cost?  Just under twenty pounds for 3 drinks.  Welcome to London nightclub prices.  God now I remember why I stopped coming to nightclubs in the first place.

“Let’s find a place to sit, if we can”, said Mandy her head scanning our surroundings.

“There’s a place!  Quick nab it!” said Eric.  We found a place, not too far from the bar, and which overlooked the dance floor.  It had a crescent-shaped bright yellow plastic leather seating.  I sat at one end, Mandy in the middle, and Eric on the other end.  Now we are settled maybe now I can chat to Mandy and find out more about her, that was if I could talk above the noise of the music.  Reason two while I stopped coming to nightclubs like this.

“So how often do you come here?” I said to Mandy quite loudly so she could hear.

“Not as often as you think.  About once a month.  I use to come here every weekend years ago, that was when I didn’t sing for a living.  Once I started singing in clubs, I got that I didn’t want to be inside them as much.  Funny I do prefer going to coffee shops, having a nice latte, than having a night out in a club.”

“Well I love this time of year at Starbucks, the Toffee Nut Latte’s rule!”