Chapter Forty-One
That reminded me to check the time. I looked at my watch and was aghast. It was almost twelve. I couldn’t have been in the gallery that long. I rushed outside and walked and walked but couldn’t find the hostel. I must have headed the wrong direction. I turned around and was now practically running in the direction I’d come.
“Merde!” I uttered out loud, walking, then running, then walking fast, finally making it back to the hostel. I spotted the van. As I grew
closer, I saw everyone in it. Ryan was in the driver’s seat, staring out the window. As I approached he yelled at me. “You’ve made us more than thirty minutes late!”
Keith got out, looking relieved.
“I didn’t do this as some sort of revenge,” I said. “I took a walk and got lost.”
Keith wrapped an arm around me. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
I hopped in the van and nothing more was said.
We arrived in Oxford, landing in another hostel. I sat on the bed and noticed the linen was unclean. I mentioned it to Keith.
“I can request a cot for you. Will that help?”
I gave him a gentle punch. “No more cracks about my size.”
“Or lack there of.” Keith cracked himself up.
We set out for a walk past the ornate spires of university buildings that soon gave way to narrow streets with quaint storefronts. We continued before Keith stopped, spread his arms and sang, “Why so unforgiving and why so cold? Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs.” He turned to me with a big grin. “I’ve always wanted to sing Bridge of Sighs at the Bridge of Sighs. I know it’s not the Bridge that inspired the song, but I’m not in Italy.”
I laughed. Why wasn’t he always like this?
Oxford’s beauty was stunning. Tall spires graced the corners of most the ancient buildings and the gardens were in vibrant bloom. We ate at a local pub and feasted on haddock and chips before parting so Keith could get to sound check.
“Meet at our room after,” I said. “And don’t be late this time.”
He saluted me and we parted with a quick kiss.
I stopped to paint the Radcliffe Camera, an ancient round, domed building. I was so involved, an hour elapsed before I realized. I collected my things and rushed to the hostel with a wet painting. Keith wasn’t there. I was fifteen minutes late. Had he come, seen I wasn’t there and gone out with his mates? I sat and worked on more postcards and wasn’t sure how much time passed before four ragged, young blokes burst in. Keith saw me and fell to his knees in mock prayer. “Please find it in your heart to forgive me. We were practicing a new song.”
I was suspicious. “I didn’t know you’d written anything recently.”
“I haven’t exactly. You’ll see tonight. It’s a surprise.”
As I dressed, I begged Keith to tell me what the surprise was.
“You’ll never drag it out of me.” He gave an impish look.
The band began with their three usual songs, when Keith addressed the audience. “We’re going to play a classic and dedicate it to a certain Oxford landmark. It’s a song by a bloke called Robin Trower called Bridge of Sighs!
Keith performed the same intricate guitar work as the original. It was fast, it was punk and I was being slammed into by hoards of sweaty bodies.
When the show ended and the last fan forced out, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Why are you so tired?” Keith asked me. “The night is still young.
“I didn’t sleep well last night and drawing postcards non stop is hard work.”
“Instead of drawing those by hand, just make color copies of them,” Ryan suggested. “For all the time you spend drawing them, you
charge too little and most people won’t know the difference. We could even make them into mini posters and sell them for five quid. I’ve done it tons of times making handbills for shows. Come to sound check tomorrow. We’ll find a print shop after and I’ll show you.”
I guess Ryan could be nice.
Back in our room, not only was the bedding unchanged, but the fan didn’t work so we had to sleep with the window open. Our room was next to the main entrance so I had to listen all night to everyone’s coming and goings. It was another sleepless night.
When we reached Cambridge the next day things were no better. Our room had twin beds and a shared bath. We certainly weren’t traveling in luxury on this tour.
“Bloody hell!” Keith erupted. “He pulled his over night bag off his shoulder, practically throwing it across the room. “Don’t they know we’re a married couple?”
“Just push the beds together,” I reasoned. “We’ve done that before.”
Keith frowned. “Being here brings back unpleasant memories. My dad forced me to tour here because they have a reputable music program and because he went here. That fact alone makes me want to run away screaming.”
“I didn’t know your father went to Cambridge.”
“That’s where he got his law degree. Anyway, let’s not discuss my dad. I’m sorry I brought it up.”
I wanted to bring it up more, but didn’t.
As promised, after sound check Ryan showed me how to make my postcards into copies. We also made a few mini posters. He followed us to the hostel and insisted Keith leave immediately for ample warm-up time. So much for catching any extra time alone.
“I’ll catch you up later, then,” I said. “I have to get ready.”
“Remember, the itinerary’s in my bag. It has the address and everything. He pulled a wad of cash from his tattered Levis. “Take a taxi.”
We grabbed each other for a long kiss before Ryan interrupted. “All right. We don’t have all fucking night for you two to snog.”
Keith rolled his eyes and grabbed his guitars.
I took my time doing my makeup and hair before rummaging through Keith’s bag for the address of the club. The inside of his bag smelled horrible. I doubted he’d washed his clothes the whole tour. I dumped the entire contents onto the bed. What also fell out made my heart skip a beat.
[To be continued… Click here to view all chapters.]
