“You’ve had a good night so far?” Silas asked as they made their way out of the venue. They took the back exit, moving carefully around the heavy black and silver boxes still waiting to be loaded onto the lorry. The stage was now completely clear, and the auditorium lit by house lights. Jane could see a cleaning crew clearing the debris from the floor and the seating areas with practised and efficient ease.

Silas had located Dewey and asked him to look after Terri while he and Jane had a stroll, which the other man had happily agreed to. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” he had assured Jane. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

Silas had rolled his eyes, and Dewey had hastily added, “You can call a cab from there to get home.”

“Shut up, Dewey,” said Silas, and they all laughed together.

“I’ve had an amazing night. Really,” Jane reassured Silas as they walked companionably side by side into town.

“A little sad though, huh?”

“Well … memories. You know how it is.”

“I kind of do. I lost my Mom when I was five years old. I don’t remember her real good though. Sometimes, I get a flash back. A fragment of a memory. Sometimes more of a feeling.”

“I didn’t know that,” Jane said, thinking of all the information she had glued into her scrapbook when she was younger. “I’m sorry.”

“Aw, it’s not recent or raw like your loss. And my stepmom is something else. She was the one that persuaded my Pops to let me learn to play the guitar and the piano. She always comes to see me when we play anywhere near home. She’s my biggest fan.”

“Buckhorn, Texas?”

“That’s right. You know a lot about me. I know hardly anything about you.”

“There’s not a great deal to tell. I grew up in a small town just outside of Exeter which is south west of here. I have no brothers and sisters. Terri is my best friend. I met her here in Bristol at the University where I’ve been living ever since. My Mum and Dad are … were … fanatical about music and it rubbed off on me. But I don’t play or sing. I only buy records.”

“And Wild Dogz are your favourite group in the whole world ever?”

“They are.”

“I should think so. Yes ma’am.” Silas laughed and caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “What other music do you like?”

“Oh the full range of rock and metal really.”

“You like the big Brit bands? Queen? Black Sabbath?”

“I do.”

“I do too. I love them. Grew up with them. Marillion? I love the poetry in their lyrics.”

“Mm-hmm. Script for a Jester’s Tear. That’s a wonderful album.”

“Yes, it is. I would love to meet their lead singer and songwriter. Fish? I’ve been trying to write more poetic lyrics myself.”

“You can tell. I mean, I could tell, from the new songs you played this evening.”

“You could?” Silas was pleased. “There’s a place for the thrash stuff, but I think we can do something a little more interesting too. I’m getting a bit old for all that screaming and motherfucking and stuff, you know?”

Jane burst out laughing. “What?” Silas asked.

“A bit old? You’re what … twenty-five, twenty-six?”

“I’m twenty-seven! Or should I be coy about my age. I was twenty-seven last week. We were in Oslo. Good gig. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” Jane volunteered. “A whippersnapper compared to you. Happy birthday for last week.”

“Thank you. A whippersnapper?” Silas repeated the word, enjoying the sound of the syllables. He halted, and turned to face her. He smiled, tucking the hand that was holding hers behind her back. “Ma’am, may I trouble you for a birthday kiss?”

Jane’s stomach flipped, partly in consternation at the request, and partly with excitement. Without thinking, she tilted her head to his and met his lips.

It was a chaste kiss. She started to pull away but he nuzzled back against her and kissed her again. The third time their lips lingered a little longer, each of them enjoying the moment of closeness. The next time their lips came together, Jane’s mouth opened and they melted into a hot embrace, until Jane pulled back gasping for breath. Not for the first time that evening she was feeling weak at the knees.

“Thank you,” Silas bowed, ever the gallant. “That was the best birthday present I’ve ever had.”

 

***

“What would you like to do?” Silas asked. They were meandering aimlessly through the streets of Bristol, looking into the illuminated windows of otherwise dark shops. “What time is it?” He didn’t have a watch.

“Half-twelve,” Jane checked hers. “I’m easy.” She bit her lip. That wasn’t what she had meant to say.

“Like Sunday morning?” Silas laughed. “Coffee and scrambled eggs?”

“Tea and buttered toast.”

“Tea? And toast? That sounds good too. Man, I could eat.”

“We can find somewhere to eat, if you like?”

“That would be great, but ah … this is kind of embarrassing. I don’t have any cash.”

“Oh?”

“We move so quickly from place to place I don’t get out shopping overly much. If I want something, I get someone else to buy it. Put it on management, you know? I never have the right currency.”

“Well,” Jane laughed, thinking of her Dad’s tenner in her purse. “I guess I could afford to treat us to fish and chips if we can find anywhere open this late.”

Jane led Silas down a side street. Young men and women spilled out onto the street here from clubs and bars, and a mix of music filled the pedestrianized area. Spanish guitars, merged with Indian sitars before rock music dominated. They paused outside a bar called The Rock Oyster. A Wild Dogz track blared out of enormous speakers. The club was crammed with men and women wearing band t-shirts, raving about the gig. One guy, leaning against the door, stared blearily through beer goggles at Silas.

“Hey man, you look a lot like Silas Garfield from Wild Dogz. Anyone ever told you that?”

“A few times, man, a few times.”

“That’s so cool. Stay gold man.”

“You too, bro.”

Jane giggled and Silas waved. They set off again, Silas sliding his arm around Jane’s waist and pulling her to him.

The chip shop Jane had in mind was tucked off the side street in a narrow ally. She remembered it from her clubbing days. They sold great fast food and remained open until the clubs chucked out.

“What would you like?” Jane asked when they reached the head of the queue.

“Well,” Silas surveyed the menu and looked blank. “I guess I’ll try fish and chips. That’s what y’all rave about, right?”

“Have you never tried fish and chips?”

“No ma’am,” Silas replied.

“Well, they are a great British staple, although maybe kebabs or chicken tikka curries are catching them up as the national dish. Nonetheless you have to try fish and chips at least once. If you don’t like them, at least you gave them a go.”

“Alrighty.”

Jane handed him over an open wrap of fish and chips. “Salt and vinegar?” she asked.

“Hey, whatever. Everything. Yes. The way the Brits do it. Let’s go!” Silas enthused, and Jane sprinkled plenty of both, handed over her precious ten pound note to the man behind the till, and collected her change.

“Thanks Dad,” she said quietly, and smiled up at the ceiling.

 

***

“This is good. But it’s damn hot,” said Silas, blowing on his fingers.

“I should have grabbed you a little wooden fork,” said Jane and laughed. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“No matter. I’m so hungry, I’m going to eat all this, paper and all. Maybe I’ll just put my face in it and inhale it like a pig.”

“Mm? Attractive,” Jane pretended to eat her chips daintily, and Silas threw one of his at her. “Hey,” she said, “don’t waste them. You never know where your next portion of fish and chips will come from.”

“Well that’s the truth.” Silas looked up at the sky. “You know, I think it’s going to rain. Either that or an owl, or something else flying by, pissed on me or something.”

“It rains a lot in this country.”

“You’re not kidding.”

They strolled back into the side street and meandered back through the throng of people, stopping every now and again to listen to the music. The music from the Spanish bar was live rather than recorded and pulled at Silas like a magnet. He craned his head to peer through the windows so he could see what was happening.

“That guitar playing is something else,” he said.

Jane watched him as he listened intently, munching on his fish and chips, and moving his hips to the beat. He looked as though he listened to the music with his whole body, the way he twitched and swayed and nodded his head to the complex and subtle rhythms. As the music finished he balled up his empty paper and lobbed it into a nearby bin. Jane dumped the rest of hers too.

“Oh, I’m all greasy now,” she complained holding her fingers up.

“Me too. Maybe we could use the bathrooms in here to clean up,” Silas gestured at the Spanish bar.

“They’d probably want us to buy a drink.” Jane unzipped her purse and tipped out what she had. “I might be able to stretch to a couple of halves. I’ll have to walk home.”

“Oh, we’ll figure something out,” Silas said confidently and led the way into the bar. Jane followed, wondering what ‘figuring something out’ would involve.

It was a small venue with simple wooden tables and benches. An array of Spanish crockery lined the walls, and the floor had been covered with a colourful mosaic. A bar, lit with fairy lights took up the whole of the far wall, with a door through into the kitchen. The musicians were occupying a small space by the window. There were half a dozen people sitting around listening to them.

The ladies’ bathroom was reached via a rickety staircase up to the next floor. A single cubicle with a tiny sink occupied the end of the landing. It was clean however, and Jane was relieved to be able to make herself more comfortable and give her hands and face a quick wash.

She stared at her reflection in an old mirror. She realised with a start that her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling. Silas appeared to be unlocking feelings she had never experienced before. She found herself wanting him to catch hold of her, wanting him to kiss her again, wanting him to …

What was she thinking?

Jane scolded herself. There was no point thinking this way because she knew what would happen. She would go back to his hotel and spend the night with him, and then in the morning she would have to walk home because she had no taxi fare and no cash card on her. He would go off to Glasgow or wherever the hell he was heading next, and she would never speak to him or hear from him again. And how would she explain all that to Tim?

She shook her head sadly in the mirror. Maybe there was more to life than Tim, but Silas wasn’t it, surely?

Jane asked herself how she could walk away now, feeling like this? More alive and more excited about a man than she had ever been in her life. She was a fool, no doubt about it.

Darn it.

There was nothing for it. She made the decision that for now she should enjoy the rest of whatever the evening brought her way, and when she arrived at the band’s hotel she would seek out Terri and they would take their leave.

Live in the moment, she told herself, thinking of Roy, because if nothing else, experience had taught her that one day, moments are all you have left.

 

***

When Jane returned to the bar, she found Silas had ingratiated himself with the musicians, and was sitting amongst them, a guitar in his hand. He was picking carefully at the strings under the watchful and amused eyes of one of the guitarists. Silas looked her way and made an excited face and she laughed out loud.

She took a seat on one of the benches, watching as Silas received an impromptu lesson. Whenever he made a mistake, the Spanish musicians roared with laughter and excitedly corrected him. He kept trying, his face a mask of concentration. After five minutes, he could pick his way through eight bars, albeit a little more slowly than the professionals. They slapped him on the back and invited him to play one of his own songs, so he played a simple version of The Unquiet Moon, introducing a picked section halfway through, to replace the rolling drum sound. He sang wistfully, directing the song at Jane once more, his eyes flicking to hers whenever he wasn’t watching what his fingers were doing. This time she managed not to cry, but her stomach performed somersaults. His rendition of the song seemed deeply personal to her, and moved her in entirely new ways.

As he finished the song, the musicians and remaining few customers in the bar, applauded and cheered. Silas made his way over to Jane and kissed her hard enough to take her breath away, right there in front of everyone else. The owner of the bar furnished them with a bottle of Estrella Damm beer each, on the house, and they clinked bottles.

“Do you always do that?” asked Jane.

“What? Take over the stage and demand payment in kind?” Silas grinned. “I have never done anything like that in my life previously. I went over to say hi, and how much I was enjoying their playing, and we were chatting and I mentioned I was a musician, as you do, and hey, presto!” He took a swig of his beer and winked. “It was fun.”

“You did look like you were in seventh heaven, I must admit.”

Silas put his beer down on the table and reached for Jane’s hand. “You know, I so rarely get to do anything I would consider normal, like walk around the streets, or have a beer in a bar, or eat the local food …”

“Fish and chips,” Jane smiled, enjoying the feeling of his fingers curled in hers.

“Amazing fish and chips. That’s my new favourite food.”

“Really?”

“After Chinese food, maybe.”

“Okay,” Jane giggled.

“You’re mighty pretty when you smile,” Silas said and Jane flushed, shaking her head.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t believe me?” Silas queried.

“I … well, it’s not something I think about. I’ve been plain Jane my whole life.”

“Plain Jane? No way are you plain!”

“Well thank you, that’s such a sweet thing to say.”

“You’re welcome,” Silas smiled, his mind chewing over what she had said. “Do you like your name?”

“It’s a name,” Jane pretended to be nonchalant, then shook her head fiercely. “God, no. I hate my name. I sometimes wonder what my mum and dad were thinking. Why wouldn’t they have called me something a little more exotic?”

“Like what?” Silas asked curiously.

“Well, I don’t know. Moonbeam or Felicity or something.”

“Moonbeam?” Silas roared with laughter. “I guess Felicity is a cool name for a rock chick.”

“Felicity Fraser has a certain ring to it.” Jane took a swig of her beer.

“I have a confession to make,” said Silas quietly. “And you’re not to tell anyone else this ever, okay?”

“Okay.” Jane leaned forward expectantly.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Swear it.”

“I swear it.”

“My real name is not Silas,” Silas whispered.

“What is it then?”

“Kenneth.”

“Kenneth?” Jane checked to see whether he was joking, and laughed anyway.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when I tell people I’m called Ken. That’s why I’ve been Silas my whole professional life.” He sat back and folded his arms. “So now you have something to blackmail me with.”

Jane shook her head. “I would never do that.”

“Or run to the press?”

“That’s not who I am.”

Silas cocked his head and grinned at her, “You know, I totally believe that about you.”

His face grew serious and he leaned forwards once more, lifting the palm of Jane’s hand to his mouth. “Listen, I have had the best time tonight.”

“I have too,” Jane replied quietly and sincerely.

They smiled at each other, happy in the moment, reluctant to make promises that neither could keep.

 

***

They bid their farewells to the bar’s owner and the Spanish musicians, Silas promising to return the next time he was in Bristol, and made their exit. Outside the rain was falling steadily. Silas was clad only in t-shirt and jeans and they had no umbrella between them. They sheltered in the doorway for a moment, watching the rain through a back drop of coloured lights. Neon signs flickered and flashed outside the neighbouring pubs and clubs. Inside the bar, the band started up once more, playing a slow and sensual version of Quizás, Quizás, Quizás.

“Perhaps we should go back inside?” Jane suggested.

“And beg another beer?”

“You’d have to play again.”

Silas looked up at the sky. “What the hell? It’s only rain, right? Take off your jacket.”

“What?”

“Take off your jacket,” he challenged again. “It’s only fair. Look at me.” He stepped out from under the cover of the doorway and twirled. “See. It’s safe out here even though it’s raining.” For added emphasis he pulled off his t-shirt and took a bow.

Jane began to protest, then shook her head. “You’re crazy.” She slipped out of Roy’s jacket and Silas took it from her. She thought he would slip into it, instead he folded it, and reverently placed it in the dry on the top step along with his own t-shirt, before taking her hand and pulling her out into the rain.

Drawing her close, his forehead touching hers, he wrapped an arm around her waist. “I want to dance with you,” he whispered, “right here, right now.”

She followed his lead. The music spilled from the windows into the street and he swayed gently, holding her close, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, groin to groin. He slipped one leg between hers, and held her in balance as they moved gently together.

Jane gave herself to him and lost all sense of time and place. She was aware of the lights and the colours around them, but only vaguely; she could hear the music as it entered her soul; her whole being entwined with the man who held her, at once firmly and yet so gently. She could feel his breath on her skin, his lips so close to hers, the gentle pressure of the fingers of his right hand on her left hand, the rough skin on his left hand against the softness of her back. Her vest top rode up as they moved, and he caressed the small of her back, her nerves jingling with longing. It was magical. Every fibre of Jane’s body burst with life and love. She had never experienced such a feeling of completeness.

The rain fell steadily as they danced, and by the time the song had finished they were soaked through. They barely noticed, coming together, lips and tongues and hands exploring each other where they stood, cleaving together, until a group exploded into the street from the nearby rock bar, and forced them back to reality.

Silas broke away first, a slight smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

“So are you.”

They caught each other in a bear hug, until a jeer from the group made up Silas’s mind. He broke away, grabbed their belongings from the steps of the Spanish bar and then, taking her hand, they ran, laughing, back down the side street towards the main road, kicking water from the puddles and splashing onlookers as they went.