Todd was very pale and a scarf was wrapped tightly round his neck. He was knocking back port and lemon in large gulps.
‘Is it the flu?’
‘Yes. Lulu had it last week. I wish I’d given her a bit more sympathy now. It’s painful to talk. I’ll introduce us as usual, then you come forward and sing with me.’
‘Okay.’
‘Derek, can you and Ian put more welly into those backing harmonies? You won’t have Con to rely on tonight.’
‘Sure, man, no hassle,’ Ian said, and nodded in their general direction.
‘What the hell is he on tonight? He looks completely out of it,’ croaked Todd.
Con shrugged. ‘Maybe you should have a word. He’s getting worse. The other night he fell asleep halfway through a number.’
Todd held up his hand. ‘Sure, Con, when I’m up to it. Will you test the sound level on the amps, please?’
‘Yes, Todd. Anything you say, Todd,’ mumbled Con.
Freddy Martin was driving home to his comfortable flat in Belsize Park when he was suddenly beset by the urge for a pint. He pulled off Camden High Street, parked his car up a side alley, bought an evening paper and went into the Victoria Arms.
He ordered his pint, drew up a stool and sat by the bar.
‘Good evening, ladies and gents. Nice to see you here again. Apologies for my cold. Luckily for you, Con has promised to help me out.’
Glancing up at the dais in the corner, Freddy saw it was the regular band, a foursome with a dreadful name whom he remembered as fairly uninspiring. As they began to play their first song, he opened his newspaper and began to read.
‘Con, you’re going to have to take over, mate. I can’t hack it, there’s nothing left,’ stage-whispered Todd dramatically after the third number.
Con nodded.
‘Do you know the words well enough?’
‘Yes, sure I do.’
‘Okay.’ Todd nodded. ‘Begin with “Fields of Glory”.’
‘Good evening, folks. I’ll be taking Todd’s place for the rest of the evening. Our man’s gone down with flu.’
An ‘ah’ came up from the audience. Con nodded at the band. ‘Right, let’s go.’
Freddy was reading that the Cavern Club in Liverpool, the venue where the Beatles had begun, was in danger of being taken over by the Official Receiver. He had played there in the early days and felt a surge of nostalgia for what used to be.
‘Fields of glory, as they march on...’
He looked up at the dais as the voice drifted into his consciousness. He was struck by what he saw.
Now that’s what I call a good-looking bloke, thought Freddy,and he can sing.
‘One day we’ll win, oh yes, oh yes, we will.’
‘Sack the lyricist,’ muttered Freddy under his breath. But he was interested enough to put down his paper for the next number.
‘You’re good,’ mumbled Freddy, ‘very good.’
The band had doubtlessly improved since he’d last seen them. This new member seemed to have finally brought some cohesion to the group. The sound was much more polished.
Freddy ordered another pint as the band climbed off the dais at the end of the first set. He was tempted to go over and introduce himself, but decided against it. He was interested, but needed to hear more.
