carpet, but only spread the stain around,” said Elvin. “They threatened to kick me and Wayne out.”
“Yeah, but fortunately they only banned us from playing music again,” said Wayne.
Steve chuckled and said, “But now that you're here, Charley boy, I'm sure I can persuade Lucy to let us rehearse again.”
Charles cringed, and through grated teeth said. “Oh, that would be nice.”
“So what’s the plan? We can’t sit around here all day and I don’t fancy bingo,” said Elvin.
“I’ll call Lucy,” said Steve, taking out his mobile phone.
Elvin looked at Charles and in a soft voice said. “When we saw you yesterday, you looked like you had just lost someone very close, was it your wife?” he asked.
Charles nodded.
Elvin gently squeezed Charles's arm and said. “My world collapsed and I felt lost and alone when my missus died. I wanted to end it and I fink about her all the time,” he looked at Charles, smiled, and told him, “It gets easier Nobby, and we are always here for you. The band of wrinkled brothers,” he chuckled and said. “Life’s too short to be sad.”
Charles gasped. “That’s what my wife Mary always said.”
Elvin smiled. “And she was right.”
“Great news lads,” interrupted Steve looking pleased, “Lucy will have a word with Chewy. We can start rehearsing again tomorrow.”
“Great, well done buddy!” exclaimed Wayne.
Elvin put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, smiled, and said. “Now the healing begins Nobby.”
The four spend the afternoon in the gardens planning for the next day and Charles told them about Mary.
Mrs Chew came outside on occasions and glowered at the four after receiving Lucy’s instructions.
Apart from Steve terrorising the old folk and warning them what lay in store, it was a sedate day for the old musicians.
After the evening meal, they strolled along to the Pavilion.
They sat on the same bench around the table and while Steve lit a cigarette, Elvin leaned over to Charles and said. “I suppose you want to know what happened to my fingers and me little falsies, and 'ow a cockney ended up in Cleeforpes?”
Charles had been wondering about Elvin’s lack of digits since they first met, but felt too embarrassed to ask. Now Elvin had offered to disclose the fact, he wanted to know and nodded. Elvin held up his pincers and said. “I lost these many years ago when I was a stoker in the Royal Navy. They selected me for the Portsmouth *Field gun crew and I spent the next few years shore-based at H.M.S. Nelson in Portsmouth, training for the royal tournament at Earls’ court. During one training session, while running with a 12-pound gun, the wheels slipped as we tried to lift it over the wall. I made a grave error of judgement and ignored the warnings from me training and grabbed the wheel to stop it slipping.” He held up his hands. “I trapped me bloody ‘ands underneath and it cut me fingers clean off.” Elvin sighed and looked sullen. “That was the end of me service career.”
He then chuckled and continued, “Never mind, it worked out for the best. Pensioned out at thirty-five, I came to Grimsby to look for work on trawlers and met me missus, Anna, and we had three great kids. When they laid me off from the trawlers in the '80s, I built a workshop on a large piece of land at the back of our ‘ouse, which I kitted out with tools and machinery. I started making medical prosfetics, starting with me own ‘little falsies.’ Then I made prosfetics for the surgical department at the general 'ospital. I turned me little 'obby into a lucrative business.” He smiled. “The money I saved plus me pensions will last me out.”
The four chatted, drank, and apart from Charles, who knew his eardrums would be tortured again, felt excited about the next day.
Charles felt comfortable around these three miscreants and by 10:00 pm, the four old-timers, merrily spannered, staggered back to Fossdyke.
Charles, feeling unsteady, flopped into his armchair. He felt the room spinning so closed his eyes and told Mary about his day, before dozing into a blissful slumber.
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-Track Three-
After breakfast, the four hung-over old men went to the recreation room.
Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles sat around the piano while several other residents milled around, knowing they were safe for now as their nemeses were talking and had no instruments.
Wayne opened his briefcase, took out pages of handwritten music, and handed them to Charles, who smiled and looked through the pages. He read the music to one song, which he played, while the others listened.
Steve and Elvin looked impressed, as did Charles as he played the melancholy ballad Wayne had entitled, ‘Vulnerable.’ Charles finished playing, and they looked at Wayne.
“That sounded good mate,” said Steve, and looking at the sheet music, asked, “Are there any vocals?”
“Sure,” said Wayne, and handed him a separate sheet of paper with lyrics scribbled on it.
“Play it again Nobby,” said Steve, looking at the words.
Charles played the song again and when Steve picked up the tune, he sang.
Halfway through Charles stopped playing, much to the relief of Elvin and Wayne. Steve was out of key, sung in the wrong tempo, and his gruff voice made the ballad sound like grating sandpaper.
“Sorry lads,” said Steve, “it’s too slow for me, but I can think of a guitar riff which would go great with this song.”
“What about the vocals?” asked Elvin. “I can’t sing well and Wayne can hardly hear, so we can't do them.”
“How about you, Nobby?” Steve asked.
Charles told them about his vocal chord problem, so didn’t have the voice for classical music or opera. “But I’ll try,” he said and put the sheet with lyrics next to the music on the rack of his piano. He then played and sang ‘Vulnerable.
Charles finished to a stunned silence. The three looked at him, agog.
“That sounded different,” said Steve.
“You sound great Nobby!” Elvin exclaimed, “You may not have the voice for opera, but it was perfect for this ballad. Yer gravelly
