“A ghost?” I questioned.
“It was fucking spooky. A bird about fifteen or so in old-fashioned clothes,” a bloke from School Lunch said.
A club employee spoke up. “Yeah, there’s the ghost of a young girl here. I’ve never seen her, but others have.”
“I knew there was something creepy about this place,” I said. “My intuition is seldom wrong.”
“She doesn’t do anything but appear,” the employee continued as he slugged a bottle of beer. “Some say she fell from the balcony, some say she jumped.”
“How long has she been here for, then?” someone asked.
“Don’t know. She’s something of a legend. The theater’s over a hundred years old.”
The ghost sighting put everyone off and no one wanted to stick around. I wanted to leave even more. It still was over an hour before the van was loaded, but the end of the tour was at my fingertips.
“So the night’s still young,” Ryan said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “And we made a shit load of money. Let’s find a pub and celebrate.”
“Drop me off first,” I piped up.
I could see in the mirror Ryan rolling his eyes. “Whatever. We should stash the instruments in our rooms anyway.”
We pulled up to the hotel. I gathered my things while Keith grabbed his guitars and we headed inside, staggered through the lobby, up the lift, down the hall and finally to our room. I collapsed onto the bed. “It’s finally over!”
Keith placed his guitars against the wall and landed on top of me. “Come celebrate with us. It won’t be the same without you.”
“I’m not going to any pub.”
“Come on, luv. Our first ever tour was a resounding success. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “We should stay in Brighton for awhile tomorrow and take the train back. If I never ride in that van again it’ll be too soon.”
“If I promise, can I go to the pub tonight without you getting pissed off?”
“I was hoping for just us, alone. If you go, you’ll come back drunk, pass out, and spend all day with a hangover. I was hoping we’d have breakfast, maybe sip mimosas.
“We can still have breakfast tomorrow and take the train back.”
“It’s nearly three now. You’ll come back in a couple hours, I wont’ be able to rouse you, and the whole day will be spoiled.”
Banging at the door followed. “Keith, you coming with us?” Ryan yelled.
“I’ll be right there,” Keith yelled back.
“Fine, go with your mates. I know where your priorities are.”
“Don’t be like this, luv. I promise I won’t get pissed. We’ll sleep in tomorrow, have a late breakfast, then take the train back.” He gave me a huge kiss before joining his mates.
I was vaguely aware of Keith stumbling in at some ungodly hour, but didn’t bother checking the time before drifting back to sleep.
The alarm rang at precisely eleven to give myself plenty of time to get ready. Although I’d gotten seven hours sleep for the first time in ages, it was hard getting up. Keith was still passed out, but he’d shed his clothes this time.
I took a quick shower, dressed, put on my makeup and did my hair before trying to wake Keith.
“Give me a few more minutes,” he groaned.
“We have to check out in half an hour or pay another night.” I grabbed the edge of the sheet and pulled it off him. “Get up now! You promised you would.”
“Pay another night.” He pulled the sheet back on and rolled over.
Before I could respond, pounding came at the door. “Keith, you in there? I overslept again. We need to check out in ten minutes!”
I glared at Keith. “Didn’t you tell him we’re taking the train?”
Keith sat up. “Bloody hell! Can’t a bloke get some sleep?”
“No. You chose to stay out all night and promised we’d spend the day together and take the train home.”
Ryan banged on the door again. “Keith, get the fuck up!”
Keith scrambled into the jeans he’d left on the floor hours before. “Hang on, I’m coming.” He rifled through his bag for a clean t-shirt. “Fuck, I don’t have anything clean to wear.” He wiggled into the same t-shirt he’d worn the night before and opened the door.
“Leave without me,” he said. “Brigitte and I are staying another night.”
“What the hell? I was hoping you’d drive. I’m too hung over.”
“Apparently I promised,” Keith said with a yawn, flopping back onto the bed with his legs dangling over the side.
“Come on. I feel like my head will explode. I’m not up to driving.”
“What do you expect after drinking all night?” I said. “We’re taking the train, so you’re driving back on your own.”
Ryan glared at me. “Who the hell invited her?”
“Don’t worry. I said I won’t do this any more.”
“Are you sure I said I’d take the train?” Keith asked me. “I don’t remember much about last night except putting on a hell of a show and seeing a fucking ghost.”
“Believe me, you were quite lucid. But fine, if you want to ride back with your mates, I’ll take the train alone.”
“Good,” Ryan uttered.
“Would you shut the fuck up!” Keith yelled at him.
Ryan looked so dejected I almost felt sorry for him.
“If I promised Brigitte I’d take the train, then you lot are driving back on your own.”
Ryan threw up his hands. “Fuckin’ aye!” He left our room, slamming the door.
“Great, now he’s pissed off at me,” Keith grumbled. “Seems I can’t please anyone today. I wonder why I bothered getting out of bed.”
“Go back to bed, then. I’ll see you in London.” I gathered my things.
“Don’t be like this, luv,” Keith said.
“How should I be? You promised we’d spend the day together if you went out with your mates and as I predicted, you’re hung over.”
“I’m not hung over. I’m exhausted.”
“You were the one who stayed out all night. Are you coming or not? If we stay any longer, we’ll have to pay another night.”
“I said let’s stay another night. An extended honeymoon in Brighton will be fun.” He grew a wicked grin. “We’ll find that alley we stumbled into yesterday and pretend we’re Jimmy and Steph.”
“I’m not acting out that scene,” I protested. “Even if we’re pretending, someone’s sure to have us arrested for lewd public behavior.”
Keith laughed. “It would make great press. Shall we keep the room another night? I don’t want to drag my guitars around all day anyway. I should have had Ryan take them.”
My mood was improving. “Okay, you talked me into it.”
“We should find a launderette. I have no clean shirts,” Keith said.
“Wash them in the sink with shampoo and hang them in the bath. I’ll pay for the room.” I rose from the bed.
Keith rummaged through his bag, pulling out a wad of money. “Use this.” He stuffed the wad in my hand.
It was a lovely day in Brighton with no pressures of sound checks and concerts. We shared a bottle of wine on the beach with cheese and a baguette before going to explore. “Look, here’s a door like the one Jimmy and Steph slipped through during the riot.” Keith pushed open the gate, grabbed my hand and dragged me into an alley.
I was uneasy. “We shouldn’t be skulking through alleys. It isn’t safe.”
Before I could answer, Keith pushed me against a wall, engaging me in a long lip lock. I got sucked in and wrapped my arms around him, then pushed his hands away when they roamed up my skirt.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
As if I’d scripted it, I turned and saw a copper.
Keith looked like a kid getting caught with his hands in a biscuit jar. “Relax, mate. We’re newlyweds honeymooning here and took a wrong turn.”
He eyed us. “You don’t look lost. We don’t want any illicit behavior in these alleys. Now be off with ya!”
We hurried out the gate, collapsing with laughter. “I’ve now recreated all my favorite scenes from Quadrophenia,” Keith said. He regained his composure and wrapped an arm around me. “Let’s see if we can stir up more trouble.”
“I think we’ve stirred up enough,” I responded.
We ended up exploring the district known as the Lanes, a picturesque triangle of old-fashioned alleyways lined with shops.
“Let’s go in here,” Keith suggested, grabbing my hand.
We slipped inside a small record store. It smelled musty and every space was crammed with racks of records. The walls were adorned with posters of different artists — The Who, The Stones, Kinks — mostly 60’s stuff.
“Is there anything I can help you two find?” A girl about our age, stood behind a dilapidated counter.
“We’re having a look, is all,” Keith responded while gazing at the store’s décor.
“Actually, do you have anything by a London band called The Piss Ants?” I asked. “They’re unsigned but I know they have a tape.”
Keith laughed. “Who’s a clever girl, then?”
“Isn’t that the band that played last night at the Old Vickie? We have a poster advertising the show, but took it down this morning.”
“I’ll give you five quid for it,” I said. “I’m collecting all things Piss Ants. I came all the way from London to see them.”
“I see why. I was there last night. They were really good. I bought a tape, but I’d love to have some to sell here.”
“I’ll see you get some,” Keith said. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”
She eyed Keith, then brightened. “You’re him. You two were having me on.”
“It was a bit of a publicity stunt,” I said. “I do this a lot to drum up interest.”
“Are you their manager?”
I laughed. “Heavens no! I wouldn’t be their manager for all the money in the world.”
We’re newlyweds,” Keith explained. “Last night was our last show of the tour so we gave the rest of the band the slip for a bit of an extended honeymoon.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Can you recommend any shows tonight we might catch?” Keith asked.
“Punk is just beginning to come back here,” she answered.
She took out an entertainment guide, pointing out a few clubs.
We left the store, grabbed some dinner, then returned to the hotel to change. We ended up at a club called The Canterbury.
Upon entering, Keith headed straight to the bar, slapped a fiver on the wood surface and ordered a bottle of Guinness. “Did you want a Perrier?”
I was pleased he’d asked. “Yes, but make it orange this time.”
“Ooh, you’re hitting the hard stuff.” He gave me a squeeze.
There were two bands on the bill. The first was Crunchy Frog. They were a little unpolished and their music was hard-core without the catchy hooks the Piss Ants had
“The Piss Ants should play a double bill with this band,” Keith commented. “We’re both named after Monty Python sketches.”
When Crunchy Frog finished, Keith got up. “I’m getting another beer, luv. Can I get you something?
“No. Those beers are expensive.”
“I’ll only get one or two more after this.”
Before I could answer, he walked away.
He returned, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other just as the headlining band, Alien Race, came on stage. They had a lot of energy and got the small but appreciative crowd dancing. They weren’t as good as The Piss Ants, though and I was glad when they were over. The lack of sleep of the last several days was suddenly taking its toll.
As we left, the guitar player for Crunchy Frog noticed Keith. He started out with, “aren’t you with The Piss Ants?” followed by, “I saw you play last night,” and went on and on about how impressed he was. He mentioned there was a jam session happening in about an hour and would Keith like to partake.
To my astonishment and frustration, Keith eagerly accepted. “Fantastic,” was Crunchy Frog bloke’s response. “Meet me here in an hour, then.”
“What are you doing?” I said as we headed outside. “It was supposed to be just us tonight — an extension of our honeymoon.”
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
