Mid-September

 

Jane waited impatiently for Terri to come out of the ladies. There were never enough women’s toilets in these concert halls. The queues stretched around the block. It was ridiculous. Jane was fortunate to have a cast iron bladder; however, Terri couldn’t pass the facilities without paying a visit. No doubt she was also making the most of the opportunity to touch up her make-up. Tonight, she looked immaculate as always. Tiny black skirt, sheer black tights and enormous platform soled leather boots that finished just below her knee. Her black hair was bobbed these days, poker straight and ultra-shiny. Tonight she had applied dramatic eye make-up and black lipstick, and teamed the whole thing up with an old Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt.

Jane eyed herself critically in the reflective surface of a vending machine. Her dark brown hair was loose and clean, in need of a good trim. At Terri’s insistence she had donned some basic make-up: eyeliner, mascara, a touch of blush and some lip gloss, but that was at far as it went. She was wearing Roy’s old leather jacket over a white vest t-shirt and jeans, and her old Dr Martens.

She didn’t care what she looked like, she was here for the music.

This was only the second time she had been able to see Wild Dogz. They had toured in the UK briefly after releasing Feral Green, but unfortunately Jane hadn’t been able to travel to the venue. When the band released their third album, Forever Carnal, Jane had managed to score tickets to The Roundhouse in Camden and dragged Tim along to that. The group had blown her away and she found herself unable to settle for days afterwards.

So here she was at the Bristol show, with the floor tickets her Dad’s money had paid for, with Terri instead of Tim, as he had insisted, and the one remaining crisp ten pound note in her purse.

She missed Roy, imagined she could smell him on his jacket, although given how often she had worn it since he’d passed away, she was probably inhaling her own scent rather than his. In the old days, the jacket had reeked of patchouli oil. Ella had commented how much she had loved that smell, and bought a bottle to spray on her bedlinen. Perhaps, Jane thought, she should consider reinfusing the leather.

Terri danced out of the ladies’ at last.

“Finally,” said Jane. “I was beginning to think you’d been spirited away somewhere.”

“It takes time to look this good, kid,” Terri replied and winked saucily.

“You do look bloody amazing,” Jane replied and linked her arm through Terri’s. “Let’s go and get some beers.”

They joined the throng of people around the bar, and wormed their way through to the front every time someone moved away. It was a free-for-all, and simply a case of catching the eye of one of the servers. Jane took her purse from her pocket and pulled out the ten-pound note, intending to wave it at the bar staff. She held it in her hands, aware that this was one of the last gifts her father had ever given her, one of the final things he had touched. She froze, her throat tight with emotion. “Have a few beers for me,” his card said, and she fully intended to spend his money this evening, in his memory. It was what he wanted. Now, faced with giving it away, she found herself unable to do it.

Terri jogged her elbow, puzzled. They were at the front of the crowd. “What’s up?”

Jane frowned, “Sorry, it’s my Dad’s money,” she said. “It’s … I don’t know.”

Terri regarded her friend for a moment thoughtfully, and shook her head. “Put it away. I make an absolute mint and you’re going to be a student for the rest of your life. The drinks are on me.” She lifted her face to the ceiling. “Sorry Roy!” she called and hugged Jane.

“He won’t mind,” Jane said and they laughed together.

 

***

The auditorium was rammed. The women weaved their way through the gathering crowds, juggling their beers and pushing their way through tight knit groups of fans until they reached an area where Jane felt comfortable. Slightly back from where they expected the mosh crowd to be, and to the right of centre.

“Is this as far as you’re going?” Terri complained.

“You know it.”

It was always the same. They had a routine. Once the band got going if they became separated in the excited, jostling crowd, they would meet up by the bar after the event. Neither would go home without the other one. It was the rule. In the old days that usually meant Jane playing gooseberry until they made it home and she could escape from Terri and whomever her latest conquest happened to be, to the privacy of her own bedroom. She imagined tonight would be different because Terri was spending the night in Bristol at Jane’s flat, and sleeping on her sofa.

The support act was a popular upcoming death metal band from Sweden, Edge of Sanity. The mosh pit went wild for them, and Jane enjoyed their set too, while Terri only rolled her eyes when some of the numbers ran on a little longer than could hold her interest, and made her way back out to the bar. The fusion of metal with progressive rock was something Roy would have definitely enjoyed, and Jane ached to think of him.

In the months since his death she had struggled with her feelings of grief. The sorrow had settled deep inside her, lodged tight in the pit of her stomach like a lump of granite. Her sense of loss pervaded every breath. And yet, she had found it hard to cry for him. She bottled up her feelings and tried to get on with life.

Life. She hadn’t been particularly successful with that. Having completed her degree, she had signed up to take a Master’s in Education at the University part time over two years. Tim had progressed from MA to PhD and she imagined they would both make their lives in one form of academia or another. Her father had been so proud of her, and she knew he had hoped she would have a fulfilling and successful career. Yet once Roy had received his diagnosis and exhausted all possible treatments, Jane had suspended her studies in order to be with him. That had seemed the most important thing to do at the time.

She’d had every intention of heading back to her course in September, however September had come and gone and Jane had not re-enrolled. She worked part time at the local supermarket, and spent most of her time reading or drawing. She had listened to far less music since Roy had passed away, because every tune reminded her of him, and she felt his loss too keenly.

Now she smiled, and imagined him tinkering with the old Vincent motorcycle he’d kept in bits in the garage, listening to Edge of Sanity, and playing impressive air guitar when he thought no-one was watching.

Terri interrupted her reverie, returning from the bar with two new pints. Bitter for Jane, lager for Terri. They were full to the brim. Jane marvelled at how Terri could get through the crowds without spilling a drop.

Edge of Insanity departed the stage to rapturous applause and cheers. The hall hummed with thousands of excited voices as the stage was cleared. Jane, feeling too warm, fanned herself.

“You shouldn’t have worn your jacket here. You’re bound to overheat, and you can’t just drop it on the floor. Once the music starts you’ll lose it,” Terri said.

“I know. I know. Maybe I’ll take it out to the cloakroom. I’m going to melt if I wear it much longer.”

“I wonder what time they’ll come on,” Terri said.

Jane glanced at her watch. “No earlier than nine I’d imagine. Maybe later.”

“Plenty of time then. Finish your beer. I need to go the ladies. Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’ll take your jacket and pick up a few more bevies on the way back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure I have to pee? Yes. Chill your boots. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Terri wiggled away again and Jane watched her go. She stood alone, although a couple of guys in brand new Wild Dogz t-shirts engaged her in conversation for some time. She was polite and friendly, and was glad that Terri wasn’t around to send covert messages about chatting them up.

By ten past nine, Terri hadn’t returned. The sound guys and stage crew had quit the stage which was now bathed in darkness. Jane glanced up. There was a good lighting rig above her head. Wild Dogz were really pushing the boat out with this tour. The new album, Astral Scream, was already riding high in the charts in the USA and Japan, and was expected to do well in Europe. Wild Dogz had broken into the mainstream and world domination was rumoured to be only a matter of months away.

The sense of expectation in the crowd started to build. People shuffled, clapped and cat called. There were piercing whistles and the sounds of stamping. Jane glanced around, searching for Terri but there was still no sign. She wouldn’t worry. Terri could take care of herself, and had probably already slipped right to the front.

The noise swelled to a crescendo as several shapes slipped among the shadows. Yes. They were taking their places. Mikhail, the drummer on his plinth; the bass guitarist, John to the left; the lead guitarist Bobo, to the right, and was that Silas? Jane craned her neck to peer through the darkness. Maybe.

Three beats on the drum and the crowd exploded and rushed forwards. Jane almost lost her footing and had to make a grab for the man in front in order to keep herself upright. Forwards and backwards the crowd surged, and Jane, used to a certain amount of argy-bargying at concerts, knew her only choice would be to go with it. From experience she understood that the crowd at a rock concert is like the sea, it ebbs and flows along with the music, and you’ll only drown if you try to fight it.

The third guitarist appeared to be a session musician, because with a deafening roar the venue acknowledged Silas as he took to the stage, running from the wings, and howling into the microphone. He delivered an electric performance of a crowd favourite, Fast and Furious, and Jane steadied herself and observed him with awe. He’d cut his long hair off, and looked all the better for it. The last ramifications of the late 1980s had been stripped away along with his perm. He was slender, clean shaven and fresh faced, wearing faded denim jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He looked good.

The group knocked out a couple of the well-known numbers from the last album and started in on some new material. Jane wasn’t overly familiar with the music. She had bought a copy but it hadn’t graced her turntable often as of yet. The new tunes were still heavy, but less aggressive, more melodic somehow. Jane had a sense that the lyrics were more meaningful than they had been before the group took a break. Roy had been right. The group had evolved, and the new stuff was going down well with the fans.

Forgetting about Terri, forgetting everything, Jane immersed herself in the music and jumped and danced along with everyone else around her, screaming herself hoarse every time a tune came to an end.

Wild Dogz were dynamic on stage, individual members switching places every minute or so, ensuring everyone got a glimpse of their favourites. Silas leapt and swooped and danced around the stage, a never ending source of energy and passion. His voice, rich and deep, howled with derision and pain one moment, and snarled with contempt the next. He was bewitching and Jane became breathless simply from watching him.

With every well-known track the group played, the fans would surge forwards towards the stage, as though trying to join the group there. After each wave, Jane found herself a tiny bit closer to the stage as other people fell back. Security personnel lifted those who were being crushed by the weight of the pressure behind them, or handed off the crowd surfers as they reached them. After an hour of the band playing to the wired crowd, Jane found herself only eight feet or so from the stage. A little too close for comfort. She was about to attempt a retreat, not easy with several thousand people behind her, when those five discordant notes changed her life forever.