Just Another Friday Night In Memphis - Part 12

....................we were so far from home.

In the morning we both felt a little better, although I kept falling
apart throughout the day and couldn't stop apologising. Janet had a
nasty bruise on her left breast and I had one on my right forearm
caused by the exploding air bags, but that was the extent of our
injuries. Janet was really good, she made love with me and kept kissing
me and telling me it didn't matter. I was obviously suffering from
shock and it was going to be a while before I recovered enough to put
it out of my mind.

We spent a large part of the day at Sun Studio on Union Avenue where
Elvis Presley was discovered by Sam Philips and recorded his first five
records. It isn't very big, about 20ft. by 35ft. and they still have
some of the original stuff there (so they say!). Upstairs is a souvenir
shop that used to be a 'crash pad' for all the visiting musicians in
the early days. Everybody from out of town dossed on the floor at one
time or another. Having bought the 't-shirts' we went next door to the
cafe that was used by all the musicians that came to Sun in the
fifties, people like Roy Orbison, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Carl
Perkins and dozens of others. Whilst we were sitting having a burger
and Coke the door opened and in walked a singer that I recognised
instantly although Janet hadn't heard of him. It was Billy Swan who had
a big hit in the 70's with a song he wrote called 'I Can Help', which
was eventually recorded by Elvis. I couldn't pass up the chance to talk
to him, partly because my younger brother is a big fan, and he'd never
forgive me if I didn't say hello, so when the opportunity arose I
walked over and said hi, he was very nice and came over to our table
and chatted about the early days at Sun and meeting Presley and his
manager, Tom Parker. He said he was now living in California but was in
Memphis to record a new album next door at the studio. All the time
Janet was recording it on video and he even recorded a message for my
brother. We finally left and as Janet posed for a photo by the historic
site sign outside he came out and said to give him the camera and he'd
take both of us together. He was such a nice man and I'll never forget
his manners and kindness to us.

That evening we had a meal in the 'Elvis Presley's Memphis' restaurant
on Beale St. and I couldn't believe my eyes when Janet swiped the
lovely menu for me. Sunday was going to be our last day in Memphis and
Janet wanted to visit the motel where Martin Luther King was murdered
in 1968, it was a mile or so down Main Street then off to the left. It
is now a museum for civil rights and open to the public but it was
expensive to go in and we thought it was a rip-off and just stayed
outside. We had our last meal in Memphis in the 'Kings Palace Cafe' on
Beale Street then went back to the hotel for an early night.

We left early the next morning but had to stop by the city police
station to pay the fine and show my licence. US police stations are not
a nice experience, with armed cops everywhere it was a bit
intimidating, so we were glad to get away and head across the state
line back into Mississippi.

I wanted to drive down part of Highway 61, the famous blues route that
links Chicago to New Orleans and passes through the Mississippi Delta
where so many famous coloured performers come from, among them Sam
Cooke, Aretha Franklin and John Lee Hooker. As we reached the outer
limits of Clarksdale, their hometown, the relative poverty became
obvious, shacks everywhere, mostly very small, some falling apart with
bits of plywood or plastic over holes to keep the weather out, none of
them with any trace of paint. They all had a 'porch', what is known in
England as a veranda and also an old sofa or armchair with the stuffing
hanging out. Now and then there was an old Negro asleep on the porch or
drinking liquor from a bottle. I slowed to a crawl taking in a side of
'America' that few tourists see. It was a hot and dusty day, I had a
delta blues song playing on the stereo and hardly a human in sight. A
dog emerged from a gateway and loped aimlessly across the road, it's
head hanging low as if it new it lived in the Deep South and was
supposed to be poverty stricken. The poor animal was obviously
suffering from mange as it had no fur except for a small patch on its
hindquarters, its naked skin blistered and sore. For a moment I
expected to see slaves being driven to the cotton fields, it was as if
I'd been transported back in time. The old freight house has been
converted into the Delta Blues Museum and one of its artefacts is a
piece of wood supposedly from the shack that Muddy Waters lived in.
After spending a couple of hours there we left for New Orleans. On the
outskirts of town I pulled up by the roadside to pick some cotton in
one of the fields that so many songs mention. As I stood there,
surveying the cotton plants that seemed to go on forever, I couldn't
help but let my mind drift off again and wondered who the people were
that toiled here 100yrs ago, what their hopes and dreams were, and how
much heartache they must have suffered at the hands of their white
masters.

It was a long way to New Orleans and we stopped the night in a place
that sounded good on the map but was absolutely awful, it was called
Yazoo City; not a nice place! Driving down the main street in the dark
was an eerie experience, no streetlights, no shop lights, just
blackness! No people on the street either, it was almost as if
everybody else on earth had died and we were the only two people
left.

Early next morning we set off on the last leg of the journey and
arrived in New Orleans about lunchtime. Janet couldn't believe the
contrast with Memphis, THIS was holiday town USA! Famous for it's
French Quarter and Bourbon Street, Basin St, Rampart St and all the
jazz and beautiful French buildings it is one of the most exciting
places I have ever been to. We booked into a beautiful old hotel in
Esplanade Avenue, which forms the east side of the French Quarter. It
has original antique French furniture in the rooms and banana trees
growing outside in the courtyard. As we walked down Bourbon Street from
the residential end I stopped and knocked on a door. Janet looked at me
curiously and said,

'What on earth are you up to?

I just smiled. After a minute or so the door opened and my friend
Martin Simpson stood there with a big grin on his face. I had last seen
Martin in England two weeks before at Colchester Folk club and he'd
said to look him up when I reached New Orleans. He'd been living on
Bourbon Street for a couple of years. We spent three days at this hotel
and they were the happiest days of my life, I'll never forget the
closeness to Janet and all the loving we shared there. Altogether we
had 5 days in New Orleans and we did everything; the Mississippi river
boat, the alligator trip in the swamps and all the posh restaurants.
One evening was spent in the revolving bar at the top of the World
Trade Centre at the bottom of Canal Street. The night time view from
the bar is unbelievably beautiful and romantic. We did some shopping in
the famous French Market and Janet stopped by a stall selling hand
painted ties, she said she was getting one for her friend Tony and I
didn't think anything of it, not knowing that it would eventually
assume a significance to me that would hurt like hell. On our last full
day of the holiday we drove down the coast road to a place called
Biloxi on the gulf of Mexico, it had yet another Elvis Presley
connection, he had spent part of the summer in 1955 there with a local
girlfriend. I asked after her on arrival but although she was well
known and is often seen about town no one new where to find her, or
wasn't about to say. I did find her mothers house however, identified
by the name 'May Juanico' on the mailbox. A neighbour mowing his lawn
told me he knew she was out as her car wasn't in the drive. Anyway it
was 110ml. drive from New Orleans and we arrived back quite late and
prepared for the flight home in the morning. As the plane took off and
circled the city I noticed Janet, who had a window seat, had gone white
and I thought she was ill. I nudged her and asked if she was OK, she
turned to me with a haunted look on her face and said in a quiet
voice,

'I don't want to go home George, I've had such a lovely time and I love
you so much.'

I squeezed her hand and replied, 'We don't have any choice sweetheart,
we'll be alright, we can handle it, you'll see!'

As the plane approached Gatwick depression set in for both of us, we
had driven 1400mls, seen six states met so many people and stayed in
some lovely places and now we had the reality of our awful marriages
staring us in the face. Sarah was supposed to meet us at the airport
but she overslept and didn't turn up for hours, by which time I was
getting a bit pissed off.

Four weeks later it was Christmas, which was always an awkward time as
Janet would spend it with her family and I didn't get to see much of
her. At New Year Sarah had given us the loan of her bungalow and Janet
had told Peter she was at a friends party and wouldn't be home until
the morning. We were on our own for the beginning of the new millennium
and Janet cooked a lovely meal for us and we had candles and wine and
everything you could think of. After we had the main course Janet said
the third course was being served in the bedroom and she said to give
her a couple of minutes to prepare it. When I walked in she was lying
on the bed naked and panting for attention. It was the best third
course I ever had and when we resumed the meal for the fourth course we
couldn't stop laughing. It became an 'in' joke for us that we would
always mention the 'third' course in company and laugh. But the real
horror story was yet to come.

During the early months of the new millennium I noticed that Janet
seemed to cool a little toward me but when I mentioned it she said I
was imagining things that weren't there. By summer time I knew there
was something definitely wrong but I tried to not let it show, although
I knew in my heart that eventually it would have to be out in the open.
I tried several times to get her to agree to go on holiday but she was
evasive, saying she couldn't afford it among other excuses. I offered
to pay for us both but she wouldn't agree to it and I began to feel
there was another reason that she wouldn't go.

One Saturday morning in September I arrived at Janet's house worried
sick about the state of our relationship and couldn't keep my fears to
myself any longer.
I asked her to sit down and talk to me but she kept fussing about
saying, 'I'll just make some tea', and 'I'll just put this bread in the
toaster.' 'I've just got to put this washing in the dryer.'

Eventually I insisted she sit down and talk but she wouldn't look me in
the eye.

'Do we have a problem Jan?' I asked.

'What do you mean?' She replied.

'You're seeing someone else aren't you?' I said, and without looking at
me I saw her head drop slightly.

'It's Tony Scott, isn't it?' I said, and she finally looked at me and
whispered, 'How did you know?'

'Because I'm not stupid! That's how I know, how long has it been going
on?'

'A while', was all she said as I rose to my feet with tears in my eyes
and walked to the door.

She never said a word.

Outside I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself in case any of
her neighbours were watching. I walked to the car and drove off, tears
blinding my eyes. I stopped a mile or two away in a car park and phoned
her but she was not concerned about the damage she'd done to me. I was
distraught and cried for days, she would phone now and again but it was
more out of guilt than concern for me. I begged her to come back to me
but she said she was confused and didn't think she wanted me anymore.
She told me that Tony had no plans to live with her; in fact she said
he wouldn't want to give up his freedom, but he was a
'gentleman'.

'And I'm not?' I volunteered.

'Well', she said, looking me up and down and pulling a face, 'not
really are you?'

What she meant was I didn't wear suits and blazers, and I didn't fawn
over her like a lovesick cow. But god, how I loved her!

After two weeks of not seeing her I completely lost the plot. I have
some good friends that were very concerned for me, they knew how much I
loved her and phoned me regularly to make sure I was ok.

On this particular day I was very low, I hadn't been to work for a
month and I needed to talk to my friend Sue. I drove to her house about
seven miles from mine but she was out. I couldn't face going home and
decided to wait a while to see if she returned. I drove to the local
country park and wood, about 300yds down the road and sat in the car
park. It was October time, cold, and no one around. Looking out of the
windscreen the trees stood leafless, it was raining slightly and the
drops running down the screen looked like tears, my tears, even the sky
was crying for me! I have no recollection of the next 10mins or so but
I suddenly realised I was in among the trees with a rope in my hand and
I was looking for a branch to fix it to. I couldn't stand the pain any
longer and didn't want to live without her. I was determined to hang
myself. As I threw the rope over a branch of a big oak tree my mobile
phone rang, I didn't even know I had it with me, I suppose it was habit
not to leave it in the car. I took it out of my shirt pocket and sank
to my knees in the wet leaves, I pressed the key and said
'Hello'.

It was Janet. She very quickly realised something was dreadfully wrong
and panicked.

'Where are you?' she said, 'please don't do anything silly, please,
come to Southend and see me tonight, please I beg you.'

The moment of madness passed. I walked back to the car leaving the rope
hanging from the branch.