by Janet Howson
two cranberry juices
Debbie
glanced at her calendar as she tackled a pile of ironing she had been putting
off for about two weeks. She squinted at something written in for Friday. Where
were her reading glasses? She had put them down somewhere after reading the
newspaper this morning. She frowned to herself, perhaps if she wore them on a
chain around her neck they wouldn’t go missing as often? She remembered her
mother doing that for years until she got bifocals. Perhaps that was the answer.
She rested the iron on its base and got nearer to the calendar. She read out
loud Annie’s 37th birthday. She let out a frustrated sigh; how
could she have forgotten that? It was Wednesday afternoon, only two days to go.
What could she do for her closest friend?
On
her birthday Annie had arranged a surprise party. She just told her that she was
to get to her house in the evening at about nine o-clock and they would walk
down to meet Jan and Sue for a drink at the Horn ‘O Plenty in town. So Debbie
had arrived in one of her little black numbers ready for a drinking session.
When Annie opened the door and let her into the dark hall the lights suddenly
flashed on and there was a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday Debbie’ and a big cheer.
There were about twenty of her friends all clutching a champagne glass. She was
pushed into the front room, a glass of champagne was placed in her hand and all
she could remember for the rest of the evening was music, dancing and laughter.
Now,
here she was with two days to go. What could she do at such short notice?
I’ll ring Tommy. He always has an answer. She had been married to Tommy
for twenty years. She had only been eighteen. A teenage bride, but he had swept
her off her feet and she had never looked back. He had always been her rock,
through every trouble, worry or disaster. He was the strong one when their first
child Chrissie was born disabled, when her father had died suddenly, when their
second child was born and Chrissie couldn’t understand why her mummy became
another baby’s mummy His was the voice of reason, she was the one who panicked,
the drama queen.
Thinking
of drama queens Debbie remembered she had lines to learn for ‘The Murder Mystery
Evening’. She had been given the role of Caroline, the lover of the murder
victim and Annie was cast as Samantha, his only daughter. She didn’t have too
much to learn so that could wait until after Annie’s birthday. She found her
phone and rang Tommy at work. Hopefully, he would pick up.
“Yep?
Is that you Debs?”
“Oh,
Tommy, I’ve just realised it’s Annie’s birthday on Friday and I don’t know what
to do at late notice. Remember she threw that surprise party for me on my thirty
eighth? I’ve got to do something special for her. You are good with ideas,
Tommy. What do you reckon?”
“Simple,
take her to her favourite East End pub, The Oak Tree. They’ve always got a
local group on a Friday night and an ‘Open Mike’ hour and that’s right up your
street.”
“Oh,
I love The Oak Tree, I can sing some of my favourites if I get the chance,
see
you later.” Debbie put down the phone and immediately phoned Annie.
So that is how Debbie and Annie found themselves at The Oak Tree on the Friday
night of Annie’s birthday in their uniform of little black numbers, hip flasks
of vodka (courtesy of Debbie as a birthday present to Annie and one for
herself.) “All we need to do then is buy cranberry juice that’ll save us a
fortune.” Debbie had told Annie as she unwrapped her
gift.
They had got there about nine thirty having stopped on route at a pub where
Annie had met her husband, Scott. It had been love at first sight and they had
married a year later. She was eighteen and he was twenty. “Nineteen years and
two kids later and we are still together.”
The
music was deafening when they got to The Oak Tree. The two friends pushed their
way to the toilets to apply a bit of ‘lippy’ and sort out their hair which had
got very wind- blown on route. Even the toilets were packed, with women of
different ages catching up on the week’s news at work and their love lives.
“Can’t hear myself think in here, Debbs, you go in first and I’ll meet you by
the bar.” Annie, put her make up back in her bag, leant against the wall and
waited her turn.
Debbie
bought the two cranberry juices and was just picking them up when she felt a
hand on her shoulder. “Debbie, long time since we’ve seen you in ‘ere? How are
you? Still singing?”
Debbie
blushed, it was Jack, a young man she had met one night she had been at The Oak
Tree with the girls and she had sung a couple of songs, persuaded to do so by
Annie and backed up by Sue and Jan, the other two in the group. She had been
really nervous but once she was up there with the microphone in her hand she had
relaxed. It had brought back to her the evenings her parents had taken her with
them to pubs in the East End, stood her on a stool and let her sing her heart
out. She had loved it. She had been the apple of her father’s eye and she
idolised him. His early death had broken her world apart. Jack had come up to
her after she had finished her stint and congratulated her on her voice and
choice of songs. “You are really talented. You should make a career as a
singer.” He handed her a business card. “If you ever think of going down that
road, give me a ring. I will see what I can do for you.”
Debbie
had told the others and they all agreed that it was a bit dodgy. “He probably
fancies you,” Sue had said. Debbie wasn’t interested, so she threw the card
away and thought no more about it. Not until now that is. She caught sight of
Annie who was looking for her. “Sorry I’d better take these drinks over to my
friend. I am hoping to sing later though,” Debbie shouted as she turned to wind
her way to where Annie was.
“Who
was the good looker?” Annie asked, standing on her toes to get a better
look.
“Don’t
you remember the night I sang and he gave me his business card? I chucked it
away. He recognised me after all that time.”
“Once
seen never forgotten,” laughed Annie, topping up the cranberry juice with the
vodka. “Are you going to sing tonight?”
“I
phoned up earlier and put my name down. I’m after that bloke you say reminds you
of Jonny Cash.”
“Good
for you, I’ll be gunning for you. What are they offering the winner? It was a
bottle of bubbly last time.”
“I
didn’t ask. I don’t do it to get a prize, I do it because I just love singing.
I’ve never had any training. Couldn’t afford it as a teenager and like you I was
working in the city at fourteen. Then I got married and the rest is
history.”
“You
mad cow, course you are good enough. Perhaps lover boy over there will approach
you again with a contract.”
Laughing the two girls put their
drinks on a table and danced to the ‘The Killers’ an American Rock Band they
loved. The atmosphere of the old pub was electrifying. The space for dancing was
full of gyrating bodies and the bar was three deep with punters getting their
orders in. The lights had been dimmed and all you could see were silhouettes of
the figures. After several tracks the music was turned off and the manager,
Roger, set up a microphone near the piano. He remembered the days when the piano
would be played every night with the locals gathered round, singing the good old
cockney songs. Those days were gone now. Most of the singers downloaded music on
to their iPhones and just selected the track they wanted to use. “Still at
least I am keeping up the traditions of a Cockney Knees up, iPads or no iPads,
he thought.”
“Right,
Ladies and Gents. Another Open Mike Night at The Oak Tree, and to kick off we
have Queenie on the guitar singing two Dolly Parton songs. I love a bit of Dolly
myself so a big ‘and for our Queenie.” Everyone clapped or cat whistled as
Queenie took the mike.
There
were about three more acts and then it was Debbie’s turn. She could feel herself
blushing under the spotlight, then she had to lower the height of the mike as
she was too small to reach it even in her heels. “Come on love, we ain’t got all
night.” A punter shouted from the back of the room.
At
last she was ready. She had chosen ‘Halleluiah’ a Leonard Cohen song for her
first number and ‘Someone Like You’ an Adele number for her second. Once she had
got through the first few bars she relaxed and belted out the lyrics with full
confidence.
When
she had finished there were cheers, whistles and cat calls throughout the pub
and cries of “give us another Debs,” and “do you do requests?” plus others she
couldn’t decipher.
Debbie
pushed through the crowd to find Annie who was holding on to her drink and
talking to Jack. “Brilliant, Debs, you were wonderful, they loved you, here have
a drink you deserve it.” Annie pushed the glass into Debbie’s hands. “Jack, here
has been telling me he wants to take you on and be your agent, I’m off to the
toilet so I’ll let you two talk.”
For
the second time that evening Debbie found herself blushing. She took a large sip
of her drink and shouted over the noise of the drinkers waiting for the next
act.
“I’m
not good enough to sing professionally. All I want is to sing here every time
they do an Open Mike evening. It’s a real compliment though,
thanks.”
“Rubbish
you are the best singer that isn’t already signed up, that I have seen in a long
time and I go round a lot of clubs. I’m not letting you get away from me this
time, without you at least agreeing to come down to my office and we can talk
about doing a demo.”
“I
will have to talk to Tommy about it. If it’s in the evening it’s okay but if
it’s through the day I will have to arrange a sitter. It’s all complicated.”
She took another sip of her drink. She was thrilled to think that someone
thought she was good enough to make a demo tape. The excitement bubbled up in
her, she had always wanted to be a singer but once she had married and had
children she hadn’t given it any more thought. She wasn’t going to tell Jack
that one of her children, Chrissie was handicapped which made it almost
impossible to have a career, particularly one that was as inconsistent as being
a professional singer.
“Look,
I don’t want you to feel under any pressure, so why don’t we say you give me a
bell if you are on board and if I ain't heard from you in a week then I will take
that as a no and I will abandon all attempts to sign you up.” He placed another
of his business cards next to her glass on the bar.
At
that moment, Annie arrived back. “Have you heard what they are playing and you
are still standing here? Come on out on the dance floor. This is my birthday
treat after all.” Annie grabbed Debbie’s hand and pulled her into the throng of
dancers. Then for the next few tracks they danced with the energy of teenagers
losing themselves in memories, music and laughter. “I love this place,” Annie
shouted above the noise, “thanks for thinking about me. It would have been a
take away curry and the telly otherwise. Scott is a lovely feller but not very
imaginative when it comes to birthday treats. I’m still getting over the
flippin’ iron and ironing board he bought me as my present. He said ‘but you
said you needed them. I said, yes, but not as a birthday present.” Laughing they
returned to finish their drinks.
There
was no sign of Jack, just his card under Debbie’s drink. “What’s that, Debs?”
Annie asked.
“Oh,
just another of Jack’s business cards. I’ll be filling an album with them
soon.”
“I
hope you’re going to take him up on his offer this time or I shall be ringing
him myself to come and put you in an arm lock until you
agree.”
“I
told him I had to talk to Tommy. It isn’t that simple, Annie, what with Tommy’s
long hours and getting babysitters for Chrissie, I will think about it though,”
she saw Annie’s quizzical expression. “Honestly I will.”
An
announcement brought them back to the moment, “The winner of tonight’s Open Mike
is…” there was a pause to build up the tension, “Debbie.” His next sentence
about collecting the prize at the bar was drowned out by the applause and
whistling. Debbie couldn’t believe it. She was sure Queenie would win.
Fantastic,
well done mate,” Annie hugged Debbie. “Right pick up your bubbly, we can drink
it in the taxi. I just got a text to say he is outside. I didn’t fancy the vomit
comet on a Friday night.”
Debbie
pushed her way through the crowd to the bar where her champagne was sitting with
a big bow round it. “Have you got a couple of plastic cups, Roger? We’re going
to demolish this in the cab home.”
“Good
fer you, girl. ‘ere I was talking to that talent scout, he was very impressed
with you. You ought to give it a go. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Enjoy
your champagne.” He turned away to speak to a punter and Debbie took her bottle
and wound her way back to Annie who had gathered their coats and bags, ready to
go.”
“Thanks
for arranging this Debbs, I have had a great birthday and you have had a great
offer. I’ll get your autograph in the cab before you shoot to
fame.”
Laughing
the girls left The Oak Tree, got in their cab and headed back home. Once they
had drunk the champagne and the atmosphere of the club had worn off and they
were approaching Debbie’s road, the girls fell silent.
“Back
to the same old, same old…” Annie sighed, staring out of the window at the
familiar buildings. “Still it’s your birthday next, fancy a
rerun?”
“Sounds
good to me.”
“Of
course you may be on a tour abroad, singing on the cruises by
then,”
The
taxi stopped to let Debbie out. She watched the cab pull away and walked up the
steps to her front door. As she put her key in the lock to let herself into the
dark hall, trying not to wake Tommy and the kids, she knew in her heart of
hearts she would never take up Jack’s offer.
“Mummy,
is that you? I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me good night. I didn’t think you
were ever coming home. Can you read me a story?”
How
could she, when she was so needed and loved at home. “Ready or not here I come,”
she sang as she ran up the stairs to her children.
About the author
Janet Howson was born in Rochdale but moved to
the South of England when she was seventeen. She loved writing and reading from
an early age and wrote poetry and plays. She joined an amateur drama group when
she was eighteen and her love of the theatre began. She trained to be a teacher
and her two subjects were English and Drama. She then went on to teach for
thirty-five years in Comprehensive schools in Redbridge, Havering and Essex.
During this time, she wrote and directed plays for the pupils, ran drama clubs,
worked with pupils from special schools, involving them in productions, worked
with Chicken Shed after school and continued to be involved in amateur drama
both as a performer and a director. Now she is retired, Janet has joined two
writing groups and with the help and advice she has received from the other
members, has started to write short stories and her first novel, ‘Charitable
Thoughts’ has now been published. She intends to continue writing both novels
and stories, adapting some of them into theatre scripts and radio
plays.
Published Work:
Dramatic
Episodes The
prequel to this series
The Best of CafeLit 8 an
anthology published by Chapletown Books 2019
Stories included: Marking Time & Induction
Day.
Nativity an anthology published by Bridge
House 2019
Story included: Solution.
Charitable Thoughts a novella published
by Austin Macauley
Can be found on Amazon Books
It happened in Essex tall tales from the
Basildon Writers’ Group
Can be found on Amazon books
