Annie was a musician and proud of it, despite what other members of the PMBB might say. Annie played percussion which meant that many of the other players especially Dwayne, one of the tenor horns, thought she was a drummer and, therefore, had no brains.
‘Hey Roy,’ said Dwayne, ‘What do you call a drummer with half a brain?’
'Gifted,’ replied Roy who had heard Dwayne crack this 'so-called' joke at least once a week since he had joined Popington Magna Brass Band.
Dwayne looked ready to launch into his next joke at Annie's expense, but he was interrupted by the sound of the conductor tapping his baton and announcing the next number. Annie quickly collected three pieces of music; she passed one to Dave who sat at the timpani, and one to Jenny who hovered between the xylophone and the tubular bells. She placed her own copy on the music stand in front of the snare drum, raised her sticks and stood poised, her eyes fixed on the conductor's baton. As the baton fell so Annie began a smooth drum roll. Now nothing could distract her from what she loved. With smooth precision, she moved between snare drum and cymbals, xylophone and triangle, sometimes playing no more than two notes before moving to another instrument.
As in some stately court minuet she and Dave and Jenny moved from one side of the band to the other weaving in and out in their efforts to be in the right place at the right time. Dave would smile as Annie squeezed past him, her ample breasts squashed against his back. Annie was by no means the slimmest in the band, but she moved with the lightness and grace of a dancer.
In the final bar Annie clashed the cymbals then held them to her chest to dampen the sound. Dwayne, resting his tenor horn in his lap, turned and said,
‘They ain't big enough to cover 'em Annie.’
‘They' re big enough to box your ears with Dwayne,’ said Annie through gritted teeth. ‘Can you breathe in a bit when you are on snare Dave, I can't get past to the cymbals.’
‘Oh, you would spoil all my fun,’ Dave said with a smile. Annie's face began to colour. Dave was always teasing her and usually she enjoyed the banter but with Dwayne having a go at her as well she could do without it. She was about to tell Dave so when Jenny butted in.
‘Wake-up you two, Washington Post. ‘Annie rushed to get the sheet music, handing it out quickly, inadvertently mixing Dave and Jenny's copies. Jenny scowled thrusting Dave's copy into his chest and grabbing at her own. Just in time they made their places for the opening bar.
‘Watch the tempo in the xylophone solo,’ Jenny muttered. Annie sniffed but said nothing. When it came to the little solo part, she watched the conductor, her hands moving smoothly over the keys, the sticks flicking delicately and accurately. When she had finished playing, she tried not to catch Jenny’s eye. She knew that Jenny would find fault and mouth 'too slow' or some such. Anyone would think that Jenny was the leading player of the section when in fact they both had the same experience. It was Dave, at seventeen, who was the new comer. She knew that Dave fancied her. He was always trying to be near her and to touch her when he could. It was pitiful really. She liked him a lot. She was an only child and Dave was a bit like a little brother to her. If only he could see that.
When they had a break and Annie was sipping a welcome cup of coffee Jenny slid past with a cup for herself and her husband, Dwayne.
‘Too slow,’ she muttered with her nose turned up. Annie pulled a face at Jenny' s back.
‘Well done, Annie, you've a lovely light touch with those beaters,’ Patrick Devlin, the conductor, smiled benevolently in her direction. He was a small man with a neat little moustache and horn-rimmed glasses that were last in fashion just after the war. Annie was very fond of him as he always had a kind word for everyone. If you made a mistake, he would look at you sadly. You always wanted to do well so that he wasn't disappointed. There were times, though, when she wished he were a bit firmer. When Dwayne was holding forth about 'drummers' she wished Mr Devlin would take him to task. It wasn't fair that she was singled out. He didn't have a go at Dave, and he wouldn't dream of cracking jokes at his wife's expense. She'd been known to take a pair of hard beaters to him when he crossed her.
The rehearsal began again, and she was glad to be back concentrating on the job in hand. They would soon be taking part in the regional finals of the 'Best Band' contest. They would be up amongst the 'big boys' then. Grimsdike Colliery Band had won the regional finals for the last three years and had, twice, gone on to win the ‘National’. She really thought they had a chance of pushing Grimsdike close this year.
They spent the second half of rehearsals on the test piece for the 'Best Band’. There were no jokes and no snide remarks, everyone concentrated and as the time for finishing came Mr Devlin beamed at them all. 'That was marvellous, ' he said and waved his fist in the air, ‘If we keep that standard, we'll show those buggers in Grimsdike a thing or two.’ It was the first time she had known Mr Devlin to swear or even to raise his voice. He really was keen to win.
And win they did, by five clear points. As they took their applause Annie thought her heart would burst, she was so happy. Patrick Devlin brought them to their feet after their reprise of the test piece and he winked at Annie. He could see how pleased she was. She thought he looked a little pale as he turned once more to acknowledge the applause of an appreciative audience.
‘Are you alright Mr Devlin?’ Annie asked as they caught their breath in the band room.
‘I'll be fine,’ Patrick replied, ‘just a little out of breath after that performance. My left arm's a bit sore tonight, but then we've put in such a lot of practice I shouldn't be surprised at that, should I?’
‘You take care, Mr Devlin, we want you fit and well for our visit to The Royal Albert Hall next month. Think of it Popington Magna in the National finals. Do you think we have a chance?’
‘I think we have every chance Annie. If we can beat Grimsdike who have won, the National twice then we can beat anybody. And with our Annie's deft fingers in the percussion how can we fail?’ She took his hand and kissed the kindly old man on the forehead.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Sunday School Hall of the Methodist Chapel was in uproar when Annie arrived for band practice. She had spent all day on a course at head office and hadn't heard the news, though it didn't really come as a surprise. ‘
Mr Devlin is in hospital,’ Dave explained as they set up the percussion instruments together, ‘he was rushed in the night after the contest. It's a heart attack. They nearly lost him twice that night, but they say he's stable now.’
‘What about the bloody competition?’ Dwayne grumbled as he opened his case and took out his tenor horn. ‘I suppose that means we'll have to withdraw.’
‘Typical Dwayne Phillips,’ Annie almost spat at him, ‘the poor man is nearly dead in hospital and all you can think about is whether you get the chance to win a bit of silverware.’
‘Don't you have a go at me Annie Gibbs. There's not a player here isn't after that trophy.’ Annie knew that Dwayne was right. Her first thought had been of the competition, but she had put it to the back of her mind when she thought of how kindly Mr Devlin had spoken to her when they had last met.
At that moment, the door opened, and a young man entered. He had untidy black hair and blue eyes that danced around the room clearly looking for someone in charge. The noisy room was suddenly quiet as everyone looked at this stranger, this interloper who intruded on their discussions. He smiled and spoke.
'Hello, I'm Sean, Sean Devlin. My Dad sent me.’ The young man was quickly surrounded by people with questions. How was Mr Devlin? Would he be well enough to lead them in the competition? Could they compete without him? Sean held up his hands and motioned for silence.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘first of all, Dad is comfortable in hospital. He's out of danger but it will be a long time before he will be fit enough to be back with you.’ There was a commotion and questions flew. ‘Next, he is desperate that you all have a chance in the National. He's asked me to come and take his place.’ Silence fell and people looked at each other. The questions were, for a moment, unspoken.
‘You will be wondering who I am to be walking in here saying I've come to take over. Well, I'm Mr Devlin's son, but also, I'm a tenor horn with The Grimsdike Colliery Band, I teach music at Grimsdike Comprehensive School and I've conducted choirs and school orchestras and, I've occasionally conducted Grimsdike. I think you'll find that I am qualified to conduct you in the Nationals if you'll have me?’ A roar of relief and approval swept the room.
‘Hang on a minute.’ Roy Anderson shouted, trying to be heard over the din, ‘You say you play with Grimsdike. Didn't you play in the regional finals and doesn't that mean you can't play with another band in the same competition? I'm not against you helping us, Mr Devlin, but are you allowed to?’
‘Typical policeman.’ Dave muttered to Annie. She shushed him.
‘A very good question. Normally you would be right, but I won't be playing, will I? I'll be conducting. I've looked very carefully at the rules and I've had a word with the National committee. They have no objections to my taking the baton for the National final. So, it's up to you really.’
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
At the end of the evening Annie was flushed as she packed away. Their new conductor had worked them hard, but she had enjoyed every minute of it. She had especially enjoyed the moment when Sean had told Dwayne Phillips to concentrate more on his part and less on trying to get a laugh at the expense of other members of the band. He told him that it was teamwork that won competitions and every member of the team was important. As she slid the snare drum into its case a voice spoke behind her.
‘Hi, you must be Annie.’ She straightened and turned to find Sean smiling at her. She could feel the colour rush to her cheeks. ‘Dad told me he had a little star in his percussion section. He was right.’ Her colour deepened and her mouth fell open but not a word came out. ‘See you next week.’ He walked out and left her floundering among her instruments. Dave watched him leave.
‘Well he's a bit full of himself.’ He said slamming beaters into a box.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Days flew by. Instruments were polished, uniforms cleaned and pressed. They practised hard and when the day came, they were ready. The atmosphere in the Royal Albert Hall was electric and they enjoyed every moment of their day in the big city.
‘It'll be expensive I should think,’ said Roy as he swigged a welcome pint.
‘What will?’ Dwayne asked putting down his empty glass. ‘Do you mean this next round? It's your shout.’
'No,’ Roy stood up and grabbed Dwayne' s glass. I mean engraving 'Popington Magna Brass Band' on ‘that trophy.’
‘Who's bothered, I don't have to pay.’ The band was celebrating its victory and the pub was packed. Dwayne was feeling good. He had four pints in him already and another was on its way. His wife was at the other side of the room with her little clutch of friends and he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. Roy plonked the pint in front of him as Annie squeezed by and went out of the door.
‘There's that stuck up bitch Annie Gibbs.’ Dwayne muttered as he picked up his glass.
‘Forget about her. Here's to the band and to two great tenor horns.’
‘Cheers,’ said Dwayne thoughtfully.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Annie stepped out of the crowded pub and into the darkness of the car park. She breathed deeply; glad to be out of the smoky atmosphere. Celebrations were all very well but sometimes they got too noisy for her taste. Somehow it wasn't as she'd hoped it would be. Sean wasn't there, it was Grimsdike's band night and he'd returned to them with his tenor horn. She had got used to his smile and his gentle encouragement. She realised that band nights would not be the same without him, nothing was the same.
‘Well hello you,’ said a voice behind her. The words were slurred but she knew it was Dwayne. ‘What's a girl like you doing outside a place like this?’
‘Go away Dwayne. Go back and join your friends.’
‘Well that's not very friendly, is it? I come to congratulate our wonderful percussionist,’ he struggled to get his tongue around the word, ‘and what does she do? She tells me to go away. How nice.’ He moved closer to her and she could smell the beer on his breath and the sour tang of sweat. 'How about a kiss from our, what did he call you our little star? Twinkle, twinkle little star give us a kiss behind this car.’ He pushed Annie up against the wall of the pub and tried to kiss her. She struggled with him. He leaned into her and put one hand over her mouth. The other hand groped for her breast. ‘Always wanted a feel of someone not as bony as that bitch I'm married to.’ He grabbed the front of her blouse and buttons flew. Sliding his hand under her bra he sought for the nipple. He squeezed hard and she flinched. ‘Come on, bitch, I'm going to show you my instrument, we're going to make beautiful music.’ His hand left her breast and he fumbled beneath her skirt, trying to force his way between her thighs. She struggled and squirmed but though he was drunk he was too strong for her. She squeezed her legs together as his rough fingers pushed at her, bruising and scratching.
Suddenly his weight left her, and he flew backwards, landing on his back on the wet tarmac. A dark figure loomed over him, its foot placed between his legs, applying pressure to his groin.
‘Well now Mr Tenor Horn, is it? Where I was born, they knew what to do with scum like you Tenor Horn. You know what they did? They shot off their kneecaps. Shall I shoot your kneecaps Tenor Horn? Oh, dear I've no gun. They sometimes broke the fingers of people who put their hands in the wrong place Horny. Shall I break your fingers? Which fingers shall I break? I think I'll break three fingers, shall I? One for each valve on Mr Horny's horn, shall I?’ Dwayne squirmed and moaned, trying to get up, to remove the foot that pressed into his groin and escape the pain in his genitals. This dark figure was a maniac, he was mad. The foot was removed, and Dwayne curled up with his hands nursing the bruising between his legs. The dark figure drew back its foot and slammed it into Dwayne's kidneys.
‘Go back to your wife Mr Horny. Explain how you got bruised and ask her if she'll kiss it better, though I doubt that. I would find another band if I were you. This one doesn't need your sort of horn.’ Dwayne dragged himself to his feet and staggered out of the car park into the night.
Annie leaned against the wall clutching at her blouse, trying to close it and restore her dignity. The dark figure removed its coat and wrapped it around her. She was shivering with cold and shock.
'Come on,’ Sean whispered, ‘I'll take you home.’
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Patrick Devlin sat up in bed and waved his arms. His eyes were closed as he swayed to the music that came from his personal stereo. He smiled and hummed tunelessly.
‘Now isn't that the pretty picture?’ Patrick opened his eyes and beamed at his son.
‘Well now my boy and, how are you?’
‘I'm well father and so, by the look of it, are you. The nurse tells me I can take you home tomorrow if you promise to behave and take your medicine.
‘Oh, is that all?’
‘No, it's not all father. I've brought someone else to visit you tonight.’ Sean walked to the ward door and brought Annie shyly into the room.
‘Well if it isn't my little star, welcome Annie. Though what you should want to be doing hanging around with this lummox I don't know.’
‘Hello Mr Devlin, it's lovely to see you with some colour in your cheeks.’ Annie smiled at him.
‘If the colour in my cheeks is anyway near the colour in yours then I must look well indeed. I am pleased to see you Annie, pleased to see you looking so lovely. This son of mine told me what happened, and I was so angry that the nurse thought I was having another heart attack.’
‘Sean was there for me Mr Devlin. He's my knight in shining armour.’
‘Well I'm glad he's of some use then.’
‘Mr Devlin he's wonderful.’
‘What's with this Mr Devlin? My name is Pat to my friends, and I have the feeling that we shall be friends and more Annie Gibbs. Now come and sit down. Have you brought me any grapes? I like the seedless ones.’