Freddy watched for another half an hour, mulling over the band’s look. He concluded that the boys were all attractive in their own ways. At the end of the day, sex appeal was what sold records in their truckloads.
‘What the hell,’ sighed Freddy. He’d been bored out of his mind in the past six months. He needed a challenge.
Slipping off the bar stool, he went over to say hello.
‘Hi, chaps, caught the act. Enjoyed it.’
‘Thanks,’ croaked Todd, bent over an amplifier with his back to Freddy. ‘Not the best night to catch us, though. I’ve got the flu and—’ Todd stood up and turned around, his face flushed with exertion. Before him was a tall man with a chiselled jaw and a blond side parting. His suit was immaculate.
‘I...er...Good evening, Mr Martin,’ he stuttered.
‘Listen, Todd, isn’t it?’
‘I...yes.’
‘Here’s my card. Give me a bell and let’s meet up. I’d like to have a chat with you. Don’t leave it too long, okay.’
‘Okay, Mr Martin.’
‘Right. See you, lads. Thanks for the music.’
Freddy Martin waved a hand in their general direction and made his way out of the pub. All four band members stared after him.
‘Bloody hell.’
‘Bugger me.’
‘I’ll be blowed.’
‘Would someone tell me who your man was?’ said Con in confusion.
‘That, Con, was Freddy Martin. He was a huge rock-and-roller in the fifties, always at number one. I mean, his music’s gone out of fashion nowadays, but blimey, I have his entire single collection up in the attic.’ Derek was awed.
‘So, he was a well-known singer.’ Con glanced at Ian and Todd, who were looking as impressed as Derek.
‘Con, he’s now a manager. He was the guy who discovered The Tin Men. He launched them.’
‘Apparently there was some heavy disagreement and they disbanded six months ago,’ Derek continued.
Todd sneezed and pulled out a well-used hanky. ‘Excuse me. Anyway, maybe Freddy is looking for a new group to manage. I tell you, that guy knows everybody in the music business.’
Derek had begun hopping up and down with excitement.
‘Hey, chaps, this could be it, this could be the big one. Who’s for a drink?’
‘Todd, I need to go home.’ Lulu’s voice cut into the excitement. ‘I’m shooting at Elstree tomorrow and I have to be there for six.’ She rose imperiously from her seat.
‘Sure, Lulu. Listen, chaps, I’ll love you and leave you. I’ve got to go home and nurse this flu. I’ll call Freddy Martin tomorrow morning. I’ll be in touch with you all when I’ve spoken to him.’
Todd and Lulu left and Derek went to get some drinks from the bar. Sorcha squeezed Con’s hand as he sat down next to her.
‘You were grand up there,’ she whispered. ‘No wonder Freddy Martin thought the band was good.’
‘Thanks.’ Con kissed her. ‘Back into the ranks tomorrow, of course. Ah, Derek, good man yourself.’ Con looked up as his bandmate put the drinks on the table.
‘Well, here’s to Todd Bradley and the Blackspots. Let’s hope this time next year that name will be on everybody’s tongue.’ Derek raised his glass.
‘I’ll drink to that.’
