Heaven's Promise (13 page)

All the time I had failed to notice the commotion going on at the club's front door, and nor did I see Jill, who had been distinctly cool with me since the Sandra business had kicked off, standing next to me until I felt her tap on my shoulder. When I clocked her my first impulse was to try and clear the air with her, sit her down and tell her my side of the story, but she was not at all interested in what I had to say. She had a far better line to deliver.

‘Have you seen who's outside?' she asked and then, a little pause for dramatic timing, ‘Sandra's here and she's got a baby with her. Looks just like you, loverboy.'

I couldn't help it, I laughed out loud. ‘Ease off, Jill. I'm working.'

‘See for yourself.'

‘Look Jill, I know you're pissed with me but you don't have to go this far.'

‘I'm not joking. Check it out.'

I looked over to the front door, which you can clock from the booth, and saw Charlie, the bouncer, shaking his head and obviously arguing someone. I couldn't believe it was Sandra.

‘You're taking the piss, I know you are, Jill.'

‘Afraid not, sweetheart. It's time to face the action because if you don't go over there and let her in, then I will. Simple as that.'

‘Look Jill, I know we've had problems...'

‘Go to the front door. I think it's you who has got a problem.' I swallowed hard.

‘I can't leave here. I'm working.'

‘I'll get J.J.'

Jill went off on a search party and I began trying to compose myself, to search for a normal state of mind, but it was not forthcoming. Fact is, people, I was as high as a kite and with no landing space in view.

Jill returned with J.J. and I made my way to the entrance, wishing to God that there was an exit door I could just disappear into, but, of course, there wasn't one, just Charlie who was using his arm to block Sandra's entrance.

The first thing that caught my attention was the contrast between Charlie's muscular, black arm thrown across the door, and the virgin white of the baby's blanket. In fact, I got so wrapped up digging this particular colour clash, I failed to hear what Charlie had to say on the matter, although his words soon cut through.

‘You deaf or something? I said, I'm not letting this woman with that child into the club.'

I gazed slowly at Charlie's concerned, tight set face and then at Sandra who, just by the look of extreme determination on her face, told me that it would take a nation of bouncers to stop her.

‘It's alright, Charlie. Just let her in for five minutes.'

‘No way, pal. Absolutely, no way. You might work here but I am not going to be held responsible.'

‘I'll be responsible,' I replied. Sandra let out a loud tut.

‘Cha! The day you show any responsibility will be the day the earth freezes over.'

It was a true horrorshow and what compounded the nightmare further was the fact that I was finding it increasingly hard to focus on one person or distinguish their voices. Colour blurred my vision and babble was all around me. I tried to concentrate solely on Charlie.

‘Look, Charlie, man, it'll be cool, I'll...' but the words just fizzled out and melted away into thin air. My mind was a blank, all I could see was the virgin white of my baby's wrapping and I could think of nothing to parlare with.

‘Look at him,' I heard a voice say. ‘He's off his nut.'

‘He's on one!'

‘Get right on one, matey,' came a third laughing voice, and if there's a hell below then this is how it must be, a nightmare chorus of faces and voices screaming with laughter at you, and there you stand, unable to even move a muscle in self defence.

Luckily, in the midst of this terrordrome, Jill had gone to fetch Costello, the manager who, thankfully not checking the condition I was in, and wishing to get the queue moving, instructed Charlie to let Sand ra pass. There was a smattering of applause and cheering when Charlie reluctantly moved back his arm, and then came female shouts of encouragement.

‘Go for it, sister.'

‘Tell him how it is, gal.'

‘Don't take no shit. They're all the same, the wankers. I should know. I married one.'

‘Shut up, woman. You're the one that said yes.'

Costello led us impatiently into his tiny office, which is just inside the entrance to the left, a small space that is dominated by a large desk with papers, coffee mugs, overflowing ashtrays, wrapping paper from the fish shop down the road, strewn all over it.

‘Five minutes,' he barked. ‘I'm running a club here not a nursery.'

And then, shooting me a glance which did not bode well for my future employment, he made his exit. Sandra turned to me and held the small bundle in her arms up to me. I clocked a small, sleeping, light brown face, with a single wisp of hair falling down the forehead, and realised here, indeed, was my daughter.

‘This,' Sandra softly said, ‘is Kimberley. Our baby. I do hope you like the name but as you weren't around after the seven hours it took to bring her into this world, I took the liberty. I hope you don't mind and tough shit if you do.'

Sandra started going into one but to be God's honest it was of no consequence for her words, like the sea beating against the rocks in a rage, crashed uselessly against my ears.

All I could do was to stare at this tiny, human form and try and make a link and, cruel as I know this sounds, I found it impossible. I could not check that this was my child for I saw nothing of myself in its sleeping face. She looked like a thousand other babies.

‘Of course,' I heard Sandra saying as her words suddenly flooded in, ‘both Kimberley and I are very honoured that you've taken this time to see us. We both know what a busy man Daddy is, don't we baby? Yes, we do and we both really respect your hectic schedule. But don't worry, Kimberley is really into clubbing it, aren't you, darling? Even at this age, all she wants out of life is to DJ. She's got such big ambitions, just like her dad.'

Boy-o-boy did that woman have a tongue on her although her sharp words did help to clear my mind a little.

‘Look Sandra, I don't know what you're playing at but I could lose my job here.'

‘Good. I hope you do. Look at you. You're a disgrace, man. I can't get a penny out of you and here you are out of your head, having the time of your life. How much you pay for whatever it is that's made you look and act like a zombie? Uh? 10 quid? 20 quid? And I'm struggling to put food into baby's mouth.'

A tear involuntarily shot out of her eye and she angrily wiped it away.

‘Whether you like it or not this is your daughter and you better wake up to that fact instead of spending time off your stupid face in this poxy club, pretending that everything is cool. It isn't.'

‘Damn right it isn't,' I shot back but she had wounded me badly and I had to admit it. ‘But if it's dosh you're after I'll start sending some over, okay?'

‘Don't be too generous.'

‘Why don't you just cut this crap and leave, babe. You've got what you wanted.'

‘Crap? Cut the crap?'

‘Yeah, you heard me. Just leave, woman.'

‘You haven't even met your own daughter, your own flesh and blood and you talk to me about crap? You should have a look in the mirror, boy, before you start dishing out advice.'

By now, the drug inside had weakened, wounded by the fire of her words, and now it went the opposite way as I felt anger swell up inside.

‘You don't get it, do you? Haven't you got a brain? How many...'

‘Don't shout in front of my baby, if you don't mind.'

Behind Sandra I could hear the dull thud of the music thumping through the wall. I imagined the crowd living it up and wished I could be with them, anywhere but here. I took my voice down to a frantic whisper.

‘How many times, Sandra, how many times? I don't want this child. It's lovely and great and if you want to go play happy families, then cool. But I'm not coming with you. I've told you I'll give you money but that's it. Just don't bring me into it anymore.'

‘Don't bring you into it? You put her inside me. You helped make this child, in case you've forgotten. And what do I get? I get shouted at in the street, I had to go through the birth on my own, I'm treated like a fucking leper because you haven't got the guts to face me. You ignore all my calls and then I'm forced to get on a bus and come to this shithole so that you can meet your daughter, who is now seven months old. And you say, don't bring me into it? Sweetheart, it's too late for that business. You're in it. The moment you put yourself inside me you were in it.'

‘You know your problem, Sandra, you think you're so right and perfect. Oh yes, I'm just off to Trinidad to think about things and when I come back I'll make a decision. Oh my, is that three months gone already? Don't worry. I've only known you for less than three months but, hey, let's bring up a baby. Wouldn't that be nice?'

Before she could respond there was a knock on the door and there was Costello motioning that enough was enough, and back to work.

‘Okay, Mr. Costello. I'll be there in a second.'

Sandra laughed out loud. ‘My, my, so there is someone who's got you on a piece of string. Wonders will never cease.'

‘Sandra, if I lose my job here you are going to be the first to hear about it. Believe that.'

‘I came here,' she replied with grit, ‘to tell you one thing and that is if you don't start paying your daughter the attention she deserves, I am not only going to slap you with every court order going but I'll make your life hell. Believe that, loverboy. This is your last chance to get your act together. Our daughter needs a father and if she doesn't get one then I am going to make you wish you had never set your eyes on me.'

‘Baby, I wish that already.'

‘Yeah, well let me tell you sweetheart, you never did me one favour, in or out of bed.'

With that last stinga, Sandra walked and it was all I could do not to slam my fist down on Costello's table, although, I must add, that I felt a certain relief at her exit for it signalled, I prayed, the end of the nightmare. I returned to the booth and took charge of the dex, sullenly mixing in tunes with a cold shock hanging close over me, Sandra and the sight of our baby cramming my mind at every possible moment. When the lights came mercifully up, I packed up my tunes and, not stopping to parlare with any of the regulars such as The Sheriff or Jasmine, I was outta there and in fast time, let me tell you, heading homeways as my mind's solar system went haywire. The truth was that this was the first time the reality of my actions had been forced upon me and it had cut me to the quick.

They often say that the killer punch is never the sledgehammer blow but the soft one you never saw coming, and Sandra had thrown it beautifully, no doubt about it. To be boxed outta my head and then be forced to confront her and the child, had not only kicked me hard but it also convinced me, there and then as the cab sped Northways, to ease off the white pill. The cashola saved would go to Sandra.

The next night I had arranged to meet up with Dillon and travel southside to a secret rave he had helped organise. I didn't particularly fancy going but as I had given him my word, we met up although I have to say that at the back of mind it was slowly dawning on me that I only really checked for the man either when I was charged up or in his shop, buying up tunes. Outside of that the chit-chat tended to dry up.

The rave was situated in a deserted warehouse and was full of youngsters in loose dungarees, smiley t shirts and wallabee shoes, the uniform of the scene which they all adopted without question, their eyes buggin' and gums working overtime, and I felt little in common with them, no doubt due to the events of the night before and the comedown I was now anticipating with dread.

When Dillon went off in search of a hit, I went wandering listlessly around the club when I bumped into none other than Lord Haw Haw, standing stiffly against a wall and obviously lost in space. I knew he wouldn't recognise me, their sort have people to do that for them, but I hung close by, figuring that my tailor amico, Davey Boy, would be somewhere in the vicinity, a hunch that was proved large and correct. I checked him first.

‘Davey Boy, how are things? Cool?'

‘Alright there, Mr. DJ. How's tricks or don't you see her anymore? You know William, don't you?'

‘Yeah, I think so.'

I shook off the notion to doff my hat and bow, and we exchanged polite nods. As you already know my feelings on the subject I will refrain from going into one, although I was somewhat surprised that some 18 months after our first encounter, these two unlikely lads were still hanging close.

‘Yes, William and I are in business together,' Davey Boy suddenly sprung on me. ‘We've gone into management. Pop group management. A band from round my way, in fact. Isn't that so, William?'

‘Yes,' he replied. ‘I believe they're going to be rather large.'

‘You're managing a group?'

‘Yeah, you know, like the ones you see on telly holding guitars and singing. They're called On One. Top boys if you ask me. Going to be big. Actually,' Davey Boy added in a bit of a whisper, ‘they're a bunch of herberts. Lead singer, if you can call him that, has been on the glue since he was 12 and the drummer's got his case coming up tomorrow. GBH against a British Rail guard. It's the second time this year we've had a night out for him. Last time he got away with a fine. Tomorrow could be different. Do you want to meet them? They're over there.'

I followed Davey Boy's finger to a group of young guys, slumped against the wall, staring up at the lights above them and not moving an inch. The psychedelic lights swirled across their young faces, tattooing their skin in such a way that they instantly looked twenty years older. Thin and blank eyed, it was not a pretty sight.