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.
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
