This Could Be Rock 'N' Roll (12 page)

After ten minutes of this chaotic cacophony, Granddad held up his hand. “Jake, my dear boy, I think we had better take a break. I need a breather. Any more of this and I think you’ll be the death of me.”

“OK, Granddad. Thank you for listening.”

Granddad winked. “I’m proud of you, Jake, for trying. You were probably just a bit nervous.”

He spidered his arms behind him to push himself out of his armchair which was very deep set and began to leverage himself up. About halfway his face went bright red and started to bulge. He collapsed back into the chair, clutched his chest and lost consciousness.

I was devastated. I leapt up and ran around the house screaming “I’ve just killed Granddad, I’ve just killed Granddad,” hysterically.

Everybody came rushing towards me and then towards Granddad. Grandma knelt beside him, checked him over and wept silently. Mum and Dad did what they could to console me.

“I’ve killed Granddad,” I repeated piteously.

“I don’t think so, Jake,” Mum assured me. “He has had heart trouble for years. The doctors said recently that he didn’t have much longer to live. And he is very lucky. He died in his favourite armchair with his favourite grandchild playing him some beautiful music.”

“It wasn’t beautiful, Mum, it was horrible. He asked me to stop.”

“Perhaps he knew that he was ready to die in peace.”

Grandma hobbled over to me. “Jake,” she said, “you mustn’t blame yourself. It was nothing to do with you.”

“But I killed him, Grandma.”

She gave me a huge hug (she could hug like an all-in wrestler in those days). “Jake, even if you did, I am sure that your granddad forgave you. He would have forgiven you anything, you know that.”

Despite this incident, or even because of it, in my family my music is a bit of a joke, albeit an affectionate joke. My dad keeps asking if I have sold a thousand albums yet and I’m not sure that I have. Mind you, he is amazing. He insists on buying every single one of them, even though I would give them to him for free, and he listens to them carefully, asking me detailed questions about the lyrics and saying which ones he likes. When you are starting out, it is brilliant to have a dad who shows real interest in what you are doing, and fifteen years later it still is. Mum appears to have listened to them too, but she delegates most of the conversation about them to dad as a father and son thing. She just makes sure I eat lots of cake to fatten me up while I remain as skinny as ever. She tries fattening Jade up too and I think she got quite a shock when Jade seemed to take off before she realised that Jade was pregnant. At least, that is how it was played. I would be amazed if Mum hadn’t realised immediately that Jade was pregnant. It’s the sort of thing mothers always look for.

Strangely, Mum and Dad never really liked Cathy. They thought she was a bit snooty and were concerned that she did not really have the same artistic interests as I have. They are much more comfortable with Jade although most parents would have had a go at me for cradle-snatching and suggested that she wasn’t really my intellectual equal (meaning that I was using a virtual minor to practise my perversions on). My mum and dad never thought that or, if they did, never said so. It was evident even from the first time they met her that they felt much warmer towards her because they immediately started teasing her, and me, about whether she was good with zimmer frames. Jade hadn’t a clue what zimmer frames were but she picked up on the gist of what they were saying and said that she knew all about which cakes and buns went best with dentures.

Hessle is both classier and less posh than neighbouring (more or less) Kirkella where Cathy’s parents live. Kirkella has a golf course which I think must be the basis for James Waudby’s great Hull anthem ‘Hull’s Too Good For England’. When I was about ten years old I used to go with a friend to Kirkella Golf Club to play the slot machines and even in those days I realised that you could have made coal from some of the smoky old fossils who used to perch up at the bar there trying to undo about a thousand years of historical and cultural progress.

I really like James Waudby’s Horse Guards Parade stuff too, especially ‘Her Scabby Knees Hold Her Disease’ about an affair of the flesh with a female worker in an abattoir.

Talking of the which, I got a phone call from Jerry while we were with Mum and Dad apologising for getting me into another fine mess and promising to extricate me this time. He must have got the number from Lesley and it made for a deeply uncomfortable exchange as I tried to give nothing away at my end, surrounded by my mum, my dad and Jade huddled around me a few feet away and quite possibly capable of hearing what Jerry was saying directly. Jerry has an impressively clear voice which he uses to great effect when he is singing and which he doesn’t tone down much when he is talking over the phone. I hope to God Jade didn’t pick up what he was saying although I have my suspicions that she might have done because she has been a bit funny since and asked immediately afterwards whether “that was Jerry” when I had been really careful not to mention his name.

I’m sure that Jade knows Jerry’s reputation, so his voice attached to an apology is enough to raise serious doubts about the conduct of whoever he is talking to.

Oh shit.

My parents looked worried too. I wonder what they overheard.

Chapter 13

The star to feel envious of at the moment is Abbie Lammas, or should I say ‘the award winning Abbie Lammas’ - fifteen years old, lovely girl, great live, excellent debut album and everyone’s tip for the top. Her acoustic guitar is definitely rockier than mine. The area is full of child prodigies; the sublime (not my word) Holly Taymar is another one.

What I would have given to have been a child prodigy. Not two tosses actually. It’s too much pressure. Imagine writing an amazing album at the age of fifteen and wondering whether you will ever make it to twenty. Anyway, if you happen to come across Abbie’s ‘Heartbroken’ CD, check out ‘Vampire Pain’ and ‘Zombie’ - bit of a theme going there. Then there’s ‘Hold On’ and ‘Give In’ - work that one out.

Talking of Holly Taymar, her ‘Before I Know’ CD is amazing (better word than stunning - I want to be conscious to listen to it, over and over again as it happens). She is a folky with jazzy roots and her melodies and voice are silken sweet. Waxing purple there, Jake.

Whilst I am listing off the people I know, let me give a mention to David Ward Maclean, a warrior of a Scot who decided to invade England, reached York and stopped. Not quite Derby, but there again he didn’t retreat either.

His first album ‘Acts Of Faith’ was like a very classy purgative of life - dark, very dark. His new stuff is just as classy and a lot more fun. You could and should jump up and down to it. The only decent thing to do while listening to ‘Acts Of Faith’ is to hold your head in your hands and groan along with the music. Of the new stuff, ‘Suppertime’ actually gets me dancing; ‘He Loved This Place’ celebrates one of those magic moments when you come across something totally unexpected and get carried away by the experience (it has David at his Van the Man best too); ‘Virginie’ does a tour of France (is Yorkshire no longer enough for you, then, David?); and ‘Anybody’s Dream’ is dedicated to Holly Taymar - how’s that for bringing the conversation round full circle?

Actually, David is a great poet as well as being a great songwriter, a lion of a singer, and sounds like he is backed by the Halle Orchestra even when it is only him and his six-string. Burn baby, burn.

‘Alibi’ by David Ward Maclean

You think you’ve got it all sewn up

Think you’ve nailed me to the wall

Got me on that secret lens

That puts me at the time and place

Is this meant to amuse me?

You sit there and accuse me

When  you well know that I was never there.

It wasn’t me, it was another guy

Took my voice and then he stole my face

Did the job and then he let them fall

Left them lying at my old address

Your case is worse than hopeless

This alibi is faultless

We both know that I was never there.

So get me on the ID line

Holding up the number that you said

Just don’t get me turning to the side

I tell you I’ll just disappear

And no use looking for me

You will never find me

You always knew that I was never there…..

*  *  *

Cathy phoned up tonight to ask if I would help put the children to bed as she is not feeling well, Harry is away and her mum and dad are frightened of the dark (well, frightened of driving in the dark) - even more frightening in the dark, I would say.

“But it isn’t dark.”

“They say it will be by the time they get home again.”

Oh to have the chance to put Josh and Sam to bed in my old home.

Jade said “No problems” which was probably not the smartest of ideas but nothing seems to upset her nowadays. She has herself and her baby inside her and all the rest is a bonus apparently. I think I am going to feel very pushed out when the baby is born. I may have to make appointments, or serve her hand and foot or something.

Cathy wasn’t looking that ill when I arrived, in fact she looked like she had dressed up a bit for me. The kids were amazed to see me and I had to carry both of them for a couple of minutes tottering around the room while they hugged me. They really liked having their old dad back. Cathy was smiling from ear to ear. That used to terrify me but tonight it was nice.

It took a while to get the kids to bed. They were rushing around showing me all the toys I had never seen before - roomfuls even. Harry has really bought his way into my home but I fear that it has only ever been Cathy he has been after. Sam has gone bonkers over Barbie. Josh is into anything with monsters and with monsters who destroy monsters.

“Come on, guys. Bedtime.”

They even obeyed me. They have never done that before, not in Priory Grove, not in Victoria Ave. Mind you, it was nine-thirty and it took another hour to get them settled down. They insisted on three stories three times. I was knackered at the end of it.

Cathy was downstairs ready to hand me a glistening glass of white wine. She curled herself onto the sofa while I sat in my old chair. Well, in the old, old days, we used to both curl up on the sofa together but we had got more distant even before the incident. Looking at her, she reminded me of our first times together - it was deliberate, I guess. We didn’t speak for a while, just admired the fact that we were sitting together peaceably again going “Mmmm” every minute or two.

“This is nice,” she said finally.

“It is.”

“The children were so pleased to have you here.”

“It is amazing to be here.”

“What are you working on?”

Now Cathy hasn’t been interested in that topic for a very, very long time, since well before the ice age.

“I’m a bit quiet at the moment. Too much going on. I’ve been spending some time rediscovering some of your reviews for ThisisUll. They’re great reviews.”

“Thank you.” Pause. “So you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too.”

“How are your folks - during the daylight?”

“Let’s leave them out of this conversation, shall we, Jake? I want to enjoy myself.” She thought for a second then looked me straight in the face. “They’re a pain in the arse, if you must know. Same as ever.”

My jaw must have dropped open. “Same as ever?”

“Yeah, same as ever.”

I was trying to swallow this new fact but it was proving indigestible.

“And Harry is a pain in the arse too, if you must know, and his parents too, probably, if I had ever met them.”

I twiddled my glass, not knowing what to say.

“Do you want to come to bed?”

I didn’t know how to react to that. I sort of guessed that Cathy had been building up to something monumental but it still took me by surprise when she pulled the cord on the curtain to unveil the statue of a ‘potentially reclining nude’.

I froze. The only thing I could think of was that Jade would smell her on me a mile off. How could I get round that? If had a shower or a bath afterwards, she would smell the soap on me and know that it was covering something. There would be no good reason for me to come round to Cathy’s house to wash, and she couldn’t have failed to notice that she and I were definitely getting on better. Perhaps this was Jade’s test of her and my relationship.

“Better not,” I replied although my heart sank as I said it.

Cathy smiled bravely. “OK.”

There was silence for a long while.

“Do you think that we will ever truly forgive each other?” she asked.

“I already have.”

“I’m nearly there,” she said.

“It doesn’t change our situations though.”