A Bittersweet Melody - Extract One

Tonight, the heat inside the cramped London venue was more intense than anyone could possibly have imagined. As Jamie Clarke boldly stepped out into the spotlights, the beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. His tall frame was almost silhouette like, as he momentarily stood poised with the fiddle, before finally striking the strings with the bow. The tuneful melodic cries from his instrument were concentrated, and delivered with an immense passion. The audience appeared spellbound, and quite rightly so, yet Jamie was in a world of his own, completely immersed.

After some ten years, Katy had once again found herself captured under his unique spell. It was hard to take your eyes off a player as charismatic as Jamie, but then that was how she’d become drawn to him in the first place – his sheer presence. Watching him on stage, as he cradled the violin, Katy could almost feel him cradling her, touching her gently and kissing her softly all over.

Jamie’s eyes were half closed, as he became increasingly engrossed, swaying back and forth, and almost cradling the violin in a way that showed a definite affection and loving empathy. His hands appeared both gentle yet commanding, locked in an intimate relationship with the fiddle as they slid gracefully up the neck, bringing his scorching solo to a climax before he swung round quickly to exit the spotlights. The crowd erupted triumphantly at his moment of genius.

Right now, seeing Slowcream play live, just once more, was a moment Katy could never have imagined in her wildest dreams. She looked upon Jamie in awe, his warm amber eyes catching the glow of the spotlights as he gazed upwards; his features magnified by the halo of sepia tinged light that cast its glow over his short close cropped hair, now brushed with grey and enhancing his rugged look. The sleeves of his sweat-drenched black designer shirt were rolled to the elbow. He gazed out across the crowd before him. His expression was one of a heavenly gratitude. His partly unbuttoned shirt revealed his plumped up chest as he stood tall, proud, and as confident as he ever was. "I wonder what he’d think if he knew I was here?" Katy thought to herself. Of course she knew that he’d never have known. There were an estimated five thousand people in tonight, the show was a sell out, the venue full to capacity. She was a mere drop in the ocean, just another fan, a number on a ticket. Suddenly feeling a tear forming at the realisation of such a naked truth, she quickly and discretely wiped her right eye.

Vocalist Mike Clueson strutted with his guitar, centre stage, playing out a funk driven rhythm, he too engrossed in his craft and almost breathing in the music, his right arm striking his guitar with custom driven rhythmic chops. There wasn’t a moment when he didn’t flash a warm smile. If it wasn’t a grin of delight at the audience, it was a quick playful glance to one of is band mates. His playing was sharp and precise, which fitted with Mike’s whole personality; he whom was the sharp suited trendy guy, his dark brown hair tied neatly in a short thin ponytail.

Robin Bright was stage right, bobbing around quite happily with his bass guitar and wearing pretty much as big a smile as everyone else onstage. He still oozed hippy with his shoulder length, wiry hair, now slightly greying, and looking so unruly it was as if he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket. It didn’t matter - Robin was having a ball. Katy watched him and smiled to herself, as she fondly remembered his unique strangeness and charm.

At the back, beating the skins with an ever increasing aggression was that grand German fellow Waudby Schultz. Waudby was built like a powerhouse with honey blonde, slicked back hair. He played the drums as if his life depended on it. He was one impressive drummer. He resembled a guy immersed in deep concentration, but every so often at certain points in the show, he’d almost laugh out loud as if someone had whispered a joke in his ear.

The stage lay bathed in vibrant lights with patterns and swirls that danced across the floor in time to the enigmatic music. The show had seemed to pass in a quick blur as Katy finally watched the band complete their encore and take their bows before they headed off backstage.

“Fucking victory man,” yelled Waudby as he kicked open the door. “I sure as hell feel a celebration coming on!”
“Yeah, go steady,” laughed Mike as he breezed in behind him grasping a towel and rubbing the back of his head, “we’ve got that interview to do remember.”
“Oh fuck! Forgot about that,” cursed Jamie, following the others in and quickly lighting up a cigarette. Seconds later, with fag dangling from his mouth, he stood manhandling a bottle of water that appeared to have a very stubborn screw top.
“Jamie, get outside with that will you,” snapped Rob “you’ll have us in trouble with the venue.”
Jamie glanced up at him. Robin had his usual look of concern on his face. Nothing had changed; he was still as meticulous as ever, showing continuous concern over the past couple of weeks should it ever look as if Jamie were about to light up in a public place. Jamie laughed to himself, secretly imagining Rob at home in his country cottage experimenting with a variety of herbal smoking materials. It was quite possible.
“Keep your wig on,” laughed Jamie sarcastically, staring over at him “I’m going,” he announced, before quickly making his way to the back door exit, blowing smoke in Robin’s direction as he passed. He grabbed the heavy door, yanking it open and letting in a gust of freezing cold air as he made his way hastily outside, Mike following close behind him.

* * * *

Caught up in the mass of crowds leaving the venue, Katy experienced an unusual cold intensity. She looked on as lots of fans loitered around the sides of the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of the band, while others hurried on by, still visibly excited by the show, but anxious to catch the last tube. The mass of high-pitched gleeful cries and mix of opinions were carried in the night air, along with the food smells drifting over from the direction of the nearby hotdog stand. Horns were sounded as traffic poured out of the neighbouring car parks, and pushy salesmen yelled out persuasively in the hope to convince the punters to buy their unofficial tee-shirts and posters. Had it been the good old days then Katy would be backstage with Jamie now, enjoying the random waves of passion that usually came over him after he’d played a show.

With that picture in her mind, she cast her thoughts back to the Slowcream 2001 farewell concert in Sydney; the last night before they had all flown home to England. It had been one of the most memorable shows ever, but a heart wrenching, emotional journey that had eventually taken her to destination ‘it all had to end.’ Following the show, both she and Jamie had taken a walk along the harbor. It was late, and all the reflections of the vibrant city shone from the still waters, while the ropes rattled against the yachts in the gentle warm breeze. The wafts of Jamie’s cigarette smoke lingered in the air as they stopped to take in all the scenery. She had watched over the water torpidly, Jamie standing close behind with his arms wrapped tightly around her, rubbing his face next to hers while repeatedly giving her soft kisses on her neck. It had been one of the best feelings in the world.
“I want to hold onto you forever and never let you go,” he’d breathed, “I want to gaze across the waters and dream, holding you tightly.”
Back at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, they’d taken in yet more of the city’s vibrance, becoming encapsulated in its romantic embrace from the comfort of Jamie’s plush suite. As a couple they’d shared so much light hearted and friendly fun during the whole tour, yet that night had been exhilarating in that Katy had experienced the best sex ever, resulting in a climax that hit her like a tidal wave, her hands grasping Jamie’s shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, as what felt like a surge of electricity ran through her whole body. She remembered waking just a few hours later, to witness the auburn sunrise across the water, Jamie still holding her, yet despite their unrivalled closeness, there had been no denying to Katy that this was to be the final chapter.

As the crowds continued to flood out onto the pavements, Katy quickly snapped back to reality. Tonight had been like revisiting old ghosts. She’d never been sure whether she would come here to London, or indeed what the reasoning behind such a visit would be. It had taken almost ten years to find out.

* * * *

The following day was typically crisp and bright for October, with an early morning chill that was quite bracing, saved only by the sun’s comforting rays. Katy’s meander along the Thames River walk was proving an emotionally intense experience. Somehow it never happened though. The conversation. Yes, that same conversation which would take place in the cold reality of the real world. The conversation that was no longer accompanied by the neon backdrop and vibrant lights of Sydney. There would be no party to go to afterwards, no chilling out by the harbor, no banter, not even any champagne. "How bad was that?" She’d thought to herself.

Although Katy’s recollections from this morning’s experience remained a shadow of dull heartache, she would never forget catching sight of him. As her train drew into the station she immediately spotted him stood on the platform, waiting for her to arrive. He wore a black bomber jacket. Katy hid behind her sunglasses, head down, not moving a muscle, heart in mouth, allowing the train to depart a few moments later, Katy still in her seat. She made her exit at the next stop and proceeded along a pretty suburban walk, giving herself space to think. As she walked, with head hung low, she reminded herself that this was London. Everyone had to go home after the tour and this was the place the band had returned to last time around. This was where friends and family were. This was about their lives, his life.

In the end, there was no meeting. Instead, along with a crisp twenty-pound note, a card etched with the words ‘congratulations’ was simply handed to a taxi driver, who promptly delivered the card to the door of Jamie’s grand house. It was time to live and let live – the latest update on the Slowcream website had said it all, or at least announced it. This was the land of officialdom. Katy’s thoughts had become incredibly fragmented, yet the biggest blow of all was that Jamie would marry his sweetheart Wendy, and despite today’s halfhearted arrangement, and despite all the past – she’d never see Jamie again. With no further purpose, it was now time to leave.

The journey back to Kings Cross station was not just a lonely one, it was filled with immense sadness and pain. Katy took in every sense around her with heartfelt bitter tears in her eyes, the gentle wind drying them almost instantly. Standing still and looking around her, she questioned why she could not be part of someone’s reality rather than just the fuel to their passions. Why things could not have turned out differently after the first tour years ago, was never quite clear. It seemed everyone got to live happily ever after except her. She felt choked on her own tears and there remained a dull ache in her stomach.

Hours later, the same question forever raised its ugly head time and time again as she boarded her flight back to Hawaii -" Why doesn’t he love me?"