Chapter Thirty-Two - The Chancellor's Men

Saturday 2nd December

Shane, Josh and Archie, aka The Chancellor's Men, had an ultimatum from Rob, the landlord of The Fighting Temeraire.  They must complete their sound checking before restaurant service started at six-thirty, start their gig promptly at eight, play for no less than three-quarters of an hour before taking a break, resume at nine and finish any encores by ten. 

'You're not my customers' usual line in musical entertainment,' he told the boys, as they hauled their gear in from Archie's van.  'If anyone other than Sally had asked, I would have said no.  No swearing, don't overdo the Live Aid stuff and keep the politics light - got it?'

They said they had.

'What the fuck are we going to play?' asked Josh.  'All our material's political.' 

'He didn't say no politics, just that we should keep it light,' Shane pointed out.

'What the fuck does that mean?'

'Fuck knows,' said Shane.  'Archie'll have to work that out.'

Archie was looking through their planned running order.

'We can still start with The Austerity Song.  I'll cut the second verse. We can do verse three twice.'

Shane ran through the lyrics in his mind.

'We can't do verse three twice.  We can't even do it once, down here.'

'Why not?'

'It's about what happens when the people take control,' said Shane.  'And Sink the Tax-Exiles' Luxury Yachts.  This audience actually has yachts!'

'I'll think of something else to sing instead.'  He smiled at his band.  'Trust me!'

'We're going to get barred,' said Josh, when Archie went in search of bar snacks and a longer extension lead for his mic.

Shane agreed they were on risky territory.  Belting out rabble-rousing, red-flag lyrics in pubs and clubs in town or at student venues was usually safe enough.  Half of the audience agreed with them.  The other half didn't care about the words as long as they could dance to the beat.  Shane and Josh had that side covered.  

Archie remained confident that they could run through their whole repertoire without coming to blows with the crowd, as long as he either tailored some of the lyrics or mumbled them.

'If we get through the first half and no-one's throwing glasses, we'll kick of after the break with Who Killed Daniel Blake, then I'll give Martin the nod to come up and say a few words about the Solent Welfare Rights Project.'

'What if they are throwing glasses?' asked Josh.

'We'll send Martin out first.'

The boys had their stage set up, sound-checked and ready to go in good time.  Rob was impressed.  They bought chips and soft drinks and found a quiet corner from which to watch the audience arrive.  Shane was surprised how young most of them seemed to be.

‘I’ve seen an older crowd for a primary school assembly!’ he complained to his mates.  ‘What the fuck sort of marketing did you do?’

‘I thought you were doing the marketing,’ said Archie.  ‘It was your idea to come down here.’

‘Only because they do a Friday morning foodbank down here.  Not here, exactly – up on the estate.  I couldn’t see any point in doing a fund-raiser there, if it’s full of poor people, and there wasn’t a venue anyway, so Sally asked here.’

‘Uprising Sally?’

Sally Archer had earned her nickname by regularly requesting the band’s cover version of the Muse track of that name.

‘Yeah.  She lives down this way.’

‘If she comes, she’ll be the oldest person in the room at this rate.’

Shane looked at the audience again.  So far, there were a cluster of about fifteen girls, mostly about his sister’s age but trying to look older, a couple of even younger girls trying even harder to look grown up and a few spotty youths.  Most had their phones out but two of the girls seemed to have noticed the band and were looking at them, as if they recognised them.

‘That’s my cousin Erin,’ said Josh.

‘Maybe we should make her our marketing manager,’ Archie replied.  ‘Our whole audience are her friends, from the look of it.’

‘This is going to be a disaster,’ Josh sighed.

Ten minutes later, at seven forty-five, the room was packed and at least three-quarters of the crowd were adults.  There were some familiar faces; Sally and Dan, Martin, Toby and Jan.  Most of them, however, were strangers; well-dressed, well-spoken strangers.  Shane had a moment of doubt.  They didn’t seem the sort to fight poverty or feed the homeless, still less sink tax-evaders’ yachts. 

Archie made his way to the bar to buy another round of soft drinks for his younger band-mates.

‘We’re dead,’ said Josh.

‘I’m going to suggest we stick to covers,’ Shane replied.

‘We could do your new one.’

‘Goth Girl?’  Shane wasn’t happy that they’d got the mood of the song right yet.  ‘We can’t start with it.  It’s too down-beat.’

‘It’s not political.’

‘It is.  It’s feminist.’

Josh suggested the change of plan to Archie.

‘Fuck it,’ he said.  ‘We’re starting with The Austerity Song and we’re singing all three verses, in full.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Josh answered.  ‘I’m safely at the back.’

‘Let’s do this!’ said Shane.

Forty-five minutes later, they stepped away from their instruments, lively applause still ringing in their ears.

‘Epic!’ said Shane, catching Archie’s eye.

‘Yeah,’ the vocalist replied.  ‘I wasn’t expecting that.’

‘Me neither.’

Josh had made a bolt for the bar, where he was being plied with offers of alcohol, which he reluctantly declined.

Shane took a seat and waited for Josh to bring over their drinks.

‘You were brilliant.’

It was the girl who had been sitting with the kid Josh had pointed out as his cousin Erin.  She was pretty.  She was also very young, barely a teenager.

‘Thanks,’ he said.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked him.

‘I’m Shane.’

‘I’m Kirsty.’

‘Hello Kirsty.’

‘Don’t bother the band!’  An older, taller, brown-haired girl, with a round face and rounder figure, came across to draw the younger one away.  Shane guessed they might be sisters.

‘I’m not bothering him.  I was just saying they were good.’

‘She’s only thirteen,’ said the brown-haired girl.

‘And she’s only fifteen,’ said Kirsty.

‘You’re sisters?’ asked Shane.

‘How did you know?’

He was tempted to say he could tell from the way they fought each other.

‘You look similar.’

Kirsty looked mortified.  She went back to her friend.

‘I hope you enjoy the rest of the show,’ Shane said to the other girl.

‘Thanks.’

She went and sat with another group.  One of the youths started talking to her.  Shane couldn’t hear what they were saying but something struck him as unpleasant about his attitude towards the girl.  Sally Archer turned towards them and said something.  The youth loped away.

Shane missed whatever happened next, as Josh came back with two cokes and Archie sat down with a pint of beer.

‘Bastard!’ said Josh.

‘I’m allowed.  You guys aren’t.  End of.’

‘I can’t believe they like us,’ said Josh.

‘They love us,’ said Archie.

‘Who are they?’

‘Ask Sally.  She’s coming over.’

The construction manager took a seat with the band.

‘Great gig,’ she said.

‘Great audience,’ answered Archie.  ‘Who are they?’

‘Friends of ours, friends of theirs, regulars, and loads of people we don’t know.’  She looked around the room.  ‘Lionel’s already got a collection going for the Project and the foodbank.’

‘Which one’s Lionel?’ asked Josh.

‘The old man in the beret.’

Shane expected to see an ex-serviceman, but the beret was more artist than paratrooper.

‘What’s up after the break?’

‘We’re doing Who Killed Daniel Blake, then Martin’s saying a few words, then Hard Times, Hate the Mail and Goth Girl,’ said Archie.  ‘And Uprising for you, of course.’

‘Excellent!’  She stood up.  ‘It’s nearly time, too.’

The boys drank up and returned to their instruments.  The buzz of conversation died away.  Archie picked out Spring from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on his guitar.  That drew a whoop from Martin, who knew well what was coming next.  The band delivered their song with confidence and compassion, then invited the adviser up to say his piece.

‘Keep the swearing under control, mate,’ Archie asked him.

By some miracle, Martin managed to say all that was needed without a single expletive.  As he was finishing, Shane saw another of the Welfare Rights Project’s team towards the back of the room, in the company of a tallish man with glasses.  Shane borrowed the mic to thank Martin and encourage the audience to get their wallets out to support the night-shelter and foodbank.

‘And let’s hear it for Martin Connolly, Toby Novak, Catherine Collier and…’  He stopped, as another familiar face appeared.  ‘And Ashley Richardson, all members of our amazing advice team.’

The crowd applauded, except for the brown-haired girl, who looked furious, two of the girls sitting with her, and Kirsty.

‘We can’t do Goth Girl,’ Shane whispered to Archie as they wrapped up the next song.

‘Why not?’

‘She’s here.  I’ll die of embarrassment.’

‘For fuck’s sake!’

‘I mean it.  Anyway, it’s not right yet.’

‘Okay.’  Archie thought for a moment.  ‘What about Top Trumps?’

It was funny.  It was political.  It was utterly profane.

‘Get Josh to put a cymbal in where the fucks usually go.’

‘Cool.’

If anything, it was funnier like that.

They finished a minute before ten with Sally’s song.  Josh came forward with the box of CDs.  Archie started signing the covers for the young females and some of their mothers.  Shane had to dash to the toilet.  On his way back, he found a couple of the teens snogging in the corridor.

‘You’re a bit young for that, Kirsty,’ he said.

She glowered at him, but ran back into the bar, leaving the boy looking very pissed off.

‘Find someone your own age,’ Shane advised him.  ‘She’s a little kid.’

He almost collided with the brown-haired girl as he came back in.

‘Did you enjoy the second half?’ he asked.

‘Don’t talk to me.’

‘Why?  What was wrong?’

‘You told them what my mum does.’

‘Your mum?’

‘Catherine Collier.’

‘I know.  She’s been working with us.  She’s nice.’

‘I told my friends she worked somewhere else.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s not a good job, is it?’

Shane was gobsmacked.  ‘Not a good job?  Didn’t you get anything we were singing about tonight?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Almost all our songs are about injustice and poverty.  People like your mum save people from this shit.  They’re brilliant.  You should be proud of her.’

‘They thought she worked in a bank.  Now they know it’s a foodbank.’

‘That would make a good lyric.’

The brown-haired girl laughed.  ‘I suppose it would.’

She followed Shane back into the bar.  He fetched her a CD.

‘That’s for you and Kirsty,’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

Shane and the band started to pack up.

‘Good set,’ said Ashley, helping to reel up the electric cabling.

‘Thanks for coming.’

‘Gavin brought me; my flatmate.’

Shane noticed a similarly pale-faced young man lurking at the back of the room.

‘Martin says it’s been a great night for the Project,’ she said.  ‘You’ve raised over three hundred quid for the night shelter.’

‘Really?’  That was far more than he had expected.

Archie was talking to Rob.

‘We might be back in the New Year,’ he told the band.  ‘But he wants less politics and a bit more romance.’

‘Don’t we all?’ said Shane, glancing at Ashley.

‘No,’ she said.

Shane watched her walk back to her male friend.

‘We’ll do Goth Girl next time,’ he said.