Chapter Eleven
When Sylvie woke him up with breakfast in bed the next morning, Theo could hear rain tapping against the window. No sketching this morning then.
He was still in a state of shock from yesterday's visit to Martine's house. What she did to him! What he did to her! The blood rushed to his groin again just thinking about it. And their flesh had barely touched. Imagine being naked with her. Imagine that!
He ate his breakfast wide-eyed, images of that pretty, chunky girl in her roll-neck sweater and skirt. And then he thought of the back garden and the lucky black Labrador, lying on its back in the garden, Martine tickling its tummy. Then his mind wandered back to today, and more specifically, this evening and his gig at Moles with The Steal Guitars.
The plan was to be outside his house with the kit at three pm exactly. He would then be driven to Bath in the back of the van, making sure the kit did not come to any harm. He spent the morning tinkering with the kit and studying The Observer magazine. He ate a solitary lunch in front of the test match on TV and then lugged his kit into the front garden at one pm, a full two hours before the Heritage brothers were due to pick him up.
Not knowing what to do and not wanting to leave the kit unattended, he went to get his sketch pad. He started to doodle new logos for The Steal Guitars: lettering in the shape of a guitar; a silhouette of a guitar with lettering around it; an empty guitar case with 'Steal Guitars' written in Sex Pistol-style ransom lettering. He filled several pages with designs, until he ran out of ideas and started to sketch the house opposite. It was now two pm. He went inside and changed into his gig clothes. He put some more Black & White in his hair and noticed that his hands were shaking as he did so. Finally, he picked up three pairs of drumsticks and went back outside to wait.
The van turned up at two fifty. The brothers helped him load the kit into the back. Once in, he sat next to the kit opposite Danny the bass player, who was immersed in the NME crossword puzzle. He barely looked up as Theo got in.
Without windows to look out of, the journey to Bath seemed to take ages. There was heavy traffic on the approach roads to Bath, so the van took a detour over Swainswick, which involved steep hills and sharp turns, all of which made Theo feel queasy. When the van finally stopped outside Moles on George Street, he was glad to get his feet on the ground and breathe in the fresh summer air.
They unloaded their equipment on to the pavement outside the club as quickly as they could, as the van was parked on double yellows. The entrance to Moles was situated a couple of steps down from street level, as the club itself was in a space originally used as cellars for the buildings on the raised pavement above. The band lugged the heavy equipment through the entrance and placed it on the small stage area. They took instructions from a sound engineer as to where to set the various instruments and amps, and once everything was in the correct place, all the instruments were plugged into the PA, and Theo's kit was fitted with pickup microphones. He watched with interest as the sound engineer trailed leads from his kit to a power supply at the side of the stage.
Then sound levels were taken, which involved Theo hitting each drum and cymbal individually until the engineer was pleased with the results. The band then jammed for fifteen minutes or so, before setting their instruments down and sparking up cigarettes.
Feeling awkward in the presence of his older band mates, Theo checked with Mark if it was okay for him to take a wander into town. Mark said they wouldn't need him for an hour or so. Realising that he was hungry, and that he wouldn't be having tea anywhere, he went to the Wimpy on Westgate Street and ate a cheeseburger and chips. He then tried his luck at an off licence and was able to secure a couple of cans of Holsten Pils. He sat in Queens Square and drank them, before walking the short distance back up Gay Street to Moles. When he arrived, Mark and the rest of the band were just leaving.
"We're going to get fish and chips. Fancy some?" said Mark.
"Um, I'm fine" replied Theo, wishing he hadn't eaten by himself now. "I think I'll go and check the kit one more time".
Theo sat at his kit and looked out over the empty club. The sound engineer was talking to the barman, who was re-stocking the shelves with Holsten Pils. Not wanting to disturb anyone, he chose not to play the drums and instead went into the dressing room. In a previous life, the cramped space may have been a wine cellar or other storage facility. It was low-ceilinged, with whitewashed stone arches providing minimal space. The only furnishings were a small desk and a mirror on the wall. A smell of bleach came from the unisex toilet to one side of the main room. Theo suddenly felt cold now that he was out of the sunshine, and a little drunk. He was beginning to wish he hadn't broken his rule of not drinking before a gig. Still, too late now. He made use of the toilet and as he stood there, he read the graffiti in front of him. Someone had written 'Bunnymen June 1981' in red biro. Then it occurred to him that it was probably one of the Bunnymen who had written it, maybe even Ian McCullogh himself! And now Theo Hanlon was playing the very same venue! The thought filled him first with immense satisfaction and then with immense panic as he realised the enormity of the situation he was in. To calm himself, he headed to the bar where he plucked up courage to ask the barman for a drink. Even though the bar wasn't officially open, he let Theo have a bottle of Holsten on the house.
It was now seven pm, and the rest of the band returned, joining Theo at the bar. Shortly after, 'the public' started to arrive, and the Heritage brothers greeted their friends and fans as they filed into the cramped club. They also shook hands and chatted enthusiastically with a couple of older, suit-wearing guys - record company execs, Theo guessed. By eight pm the place was full. But she was still not here. Theo stood by the front door waiting. And then, at ten past, black pvc shining under the harsh entrance lighting, Martine arrived. Theo told the doorman that she was with him, and he let her through without paying. He couldn't remember ever feeling so important. But if Martine was impressed, she didn't let it show. They went to the upstairs bar and he ordered drinks. Although the place was packed, they managed to find a small candle-lit table. Theo took out his Consulates and offered her one but she declined. He lit his up using the candle on the table. She put her hand on his leg and the blood rushed to his groin once more.
This was the first time that they had exchanged any real information. He talked of drumming, Van Gogh, his friends, The White Hart, Blues Train, art, cricket, favourite singles, trips to Flip, O-levels, architecture, estate agents, 'housing stock'. She talked of Blackie, her father the doctor, older sisters, boredom in Atworth, O-levels taken when she was fourteen, plans for A-levels, short-lists of universities, favourite singles (none matched his), David Bowie.
And then a tap on the shoulder: It was Mark.
"We're on in ten."
Theo had momentarily forgotten about the gig part of the evening. His eyes widened, gravity left him. This was what he had been yearning for and dreading in equal measure. He smiled nervously at her, hoping for words of encouragement.
"Go on then," said Martine, "don't worry about me. I'll be in the front row."
With that, Theo followed Mark downstairs, the guitarist nodding hello at virtually everyone they passed. They made slow progress through the packed subterranean club and into the even-more-packed dressing room. The once cold and silent cellar was now filled with girls applying hairspray, teddy boys smoking, and his band mates, all talking and nodding together. Condensation dripped off the whitewash walls into puddles on the floor. Theo found a can of lager and opened it. He rummaged in his jacket for another Consulate and went to ask Mark for a light, but before he could, Mark said:
"Fuck, this is it"
And from the club, Theo heard a voice over the PA:
"From Chippenham England, via Nashville, Memphis and Alabamaaaaaa, please welcome Steeeeeaaaaal Geeeetarzzzz!!!
A huge roar filled the club. Theo watched as the brothers filed out of the changing room. Danny followed, expertly manoeuvring his double bass out of the
cramped space. Now it was Theo's turn. Should he put his can of lager down? No. He wanted to take it with him. Now all he needed was his drumsticks.
Drumsticks.
Fuck! What had he done with them? He looked around frantically but they failed to materialize. He tried to recall the last time he had them, but his mind was so frenzied that he couldn't think straight. He wanted to ask Mark if he'd seen them, but Mark was already on stage plugging in his guitar. Jesus, Not now! Tears started to form in his eyes as he imagined the humiliation of not having his sticks, having to go out on stage in front of all those people and say "Umm, I don't seem to be able to..." but then he remembered and breathed a huge sigh of relief - they were resting on the snare drum! With a further two spare pairs on the bass drum. Thank fuck for that!
He walked out on to the stage, the brightness of the lights momentarily destabilizing him. He made his way to his gleaming kit, sat on the drum stool and picked up the sticks. For a second he felt homesick for the comfort of Blues Train and The White Hart. But then he took a glug from his lager. This is just another stage, just another band and just another gig. To steady himself further he hit the snare drum - b-b-b-b-b-b-rattt! Fuck, that was loud. But this was what he did and he had nothing to fear.
Mark introduced himself and the band to the audience, and received a huge roar in response. Theo had never witnessed anything like this down at the White Hart. Then Mark began the first song, a cover of Chuck Berry's 'Brown Eyed Handsome Man. His guitar intro was precise and loud. The rest of the band knew when to come in, but Theo could not resist clicking his sticks together four times to count them in in the final bar of the intro. When the rest of the band did kick in, he could not believe the sound they made. The audience went wild, pogo-ing and pushing into each other as if they were in some kind of pub brawl. Danny and the two brothers kept formation in front of him, their heads nodding to the beat. Theo saw them in smoke-softened silhouette, their outlines defined by the frenetic movement coming from the audience. The song was over before Theo knew it. The crowd cheered and yelled their approval. This was fun! Next up was 'Denim Baby', and then the very apt 'Bar Room Brawlers', each song counted in with barely a pause for breath. During 'Bar Room Brawlers' Lee Heritage lunged off the small stage, and landed in the crowd. He slowly fell to the floor as the audience parted, still playing his guitar as he went. The crowd helped him to his feet and slapped him on the back as he made it back on to the stage.
Throughout this madness, Theo kept a solid beat, the framework on which everything else was built. His drums were amplified more than he was used to - each cymbal smash sounding like white noise in his ears. The band played on, two-minute blast followed by two-minute blast, until the set list was completed. Mark thanked the crowd and left the stage to rapturous applause. Theo followed his bandmates into the small dressing room.
The two brothers took off their guitars and looked at each other: "So far so good" Lee said to Mark. Danny lit up a fag, and Theo, needing something to do with his hands, reached for a nearby can of lager and drank its warm contents. A sharp taste told him that there may be cigarette ash in the can, but no one seemed to notice as he put it back down. The general noise from the crowd morphed into a slow clap, demanding that the band return to the stage. It was agreed that the encore should consist of three songs: 'Guitar Man', then 'Rocket Girl' - a Heritage original, and then a bluesy version of 'I Walk The Line' by Johnny Cash. Theo had practiced these songs with the band, but not to the same extent as the main set list, the feeling being that by this stage of the gig they could afford to loosen up a bit.
The brothers picked up their guitars and headed back to the stage, followed by Danny and then Theo. The audience burst into loud applause and cheers as they arrived, and Theo put his sticks in the air to acknowledge them. Mark began the familiar "1-2-3-4" and off they went, straight into 'Guitar Man'. Theo accompanied the guitar intro with intricate cymbal work and then used his full might on the snare drum when the rest of the band kicked in.
Tiring of just using the snare and hi-hat, Theo improvised, using the tom toms on alternate beats, and then firing off a salvo of five-drum rolls during the song's guitar solo. Mark looked back at him with an enthusiastic smile on his face and nodded his head in approval, sweat dripping from his quiff. The song finished to more applause and another stage dive, this time from Danny, but without his double bass.
'Rocket Girl' and the bluesy 'I Walk The Line' closed the set, Theo making the most of the skills he'd learnt drumming for Blues Train. Once the last chord had been chimed, the brothers thanked the audience once more and left the stage for the final time. The applause continued as Theo made his way to the dressing room. He looked into the crowd and saw people clapping at him. He raised his drumsticks in the air again and heard a wolf-whistle come from somewhere in front of him. Was that meant for me?
When he reached the dressing room, he got a pat on the back from Lee, and Mark shook him by the hand and said "We couldn't have done it without you". Then he turned to Lee and said "Are they still here?"
"Yep, think so" Lee replied.
"Good, good". Both brothers grabbed beers and cigarettes and nervously watched the entrance to the dressing room. After a couple of minutes, the two suits came in and headed straight for the brothers, shaking them by the hand and complimenting them on the gig. A few words were exchanged, and Theo managed to make out "Is there somewhere we can talk" coming from one of the men, to which Lee replied "Sure, let's get a booth upstairs". They passed Theo as they made their way out of the changing room. As he passed, Mark said "Thanks again, I'll call you tomorrow."
"Cheers Mark" Theo watched as they left. So tomorrow, Steal Guitars might be signed by a major label. I might be signed by a major label. He looked back at the changing room: no one he knew, and everyone much older than him. But there were eight cans of lager on the table and Theo helped himself to one before sparking up a Consulate.
Now his thoughts turned to Martine. He left the changing room, walked across the stage, and then stepped down into the still-crowded club, where he received pats on the back and the occasional "Nice drumming man". He looked from face to face for Martine, but couldn't see her anywhere. He tried the downstairs bar, and then headed upstairs. He saw the Heritage brothers talking to the two A & R men in one of the booths, but still no Martine. He moved towards the bar area, and as he entered, he heard a girl's voice:
"K Walker, College Road Atworth."
Surprised, he looked round to see Martine, talking to a guy with bleached hair and a stone-washed denim jacket.
Then she turned and looked at him: "Hi! How was it?"