FRIDAY NIGHT IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT

 FRIDAY NIGHT IS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT 

(Based on the words of Herman’s Hermits 1965 song ‘Silhouettes’ (on the shade.)

By Bob French

Frank stood in front of his full-length mirror and admired himself. He had just been given a pay rise and with his savings had gone down to Burtons, on the high street, and bought a Beatles suit, a high collar white shirt, just like that worn by Paul McCartney, and a pair of two-inch-high-heel boots worn by the Beatles.

He stood there for nearly five minutes admiring himself, then spoke to his image with confidence. “If this doesn’t catch Jenifer’s attention, then I give up.”

The Saint Benedict Youth Club in Romford, just behind Woolies, was the place to be on a Friday night. Ever since he, and all his mates, had left school, a year or so back, they had kept their promise that no matter what, they would meet up at the Friday night dance at the club.

He straightened his tie as ‘Love, Love Me Do,’ by the Beatles, burst into his bedroom via the small Japanese transistor radio his dad had bought him for his eighteenth birthday, and he smiled to himself. “This is going to be the night.”

Frank and Jenifer had, what one would call, a casual friendship.  Whenever they met, they were always accompanied by their friends; even when he asked her to dance, everyone would get up and join in.  So far, he had never been alone with her, well, not really, not since he had bumped into her at the library, and even then, he’d sat next to her and never spoke a word for fear of the dreaded Miss Hetheringay giving him one of her looks you only saw in horror films.

Frank had gone over in his mind a hundred times, the words he wanted to use to ask Jenifer out on a date, and would regularly berate himself at the last minute for the lack of courage when a rare occasion presented itself.  To ease his frustration, he would convince himself that, ‘It’s just that there were too many people around, or it wasn’t the right moment.’

They could hear the music before they even entered the club.  Mrs. Miller, the ancient caretaker, and unofficial bouncer, gave Frank the once over, then smiled as he handed her his ‘half a dollar’ coin. As she stamped the back of his hand, she leaned forward and quietly spoke in his ear “Jenifer is over by the Jukebox, love.”

Once inside, Frank and his mates mingled with their mates.  But Frank’s eyes were searching for Jenifer.  He wanted to impress her, but just as he caught sight of her, the beat of Cliff and the Shadows filled the hall and the dance floor was suddenly filled with screaming, jiving, and, twisting dancers. 

Frank watched as Butterworth casually sauntered up to Jenifer and joined her circle of friends. He watched to see her reaction and was pleased that she appeared not to like what he had done, then smiled as Fay, one of Jenifer’s friends, danced in between them.

As he stood with his back to the wall watching Jenifer dancing, several of his female friends asked him if he wanted to dance, but Frank was saving himself for his girl.

Half an hour later, the music stopped for snacks and Jenifer and her friends moved towards the table of sandwiches and squash. Butterworth had given up trying to muscle in on Jenifer and was messing about with a couple of his mates on the far side of the hall. 

Frank took a deep breath.  “This was it,” he told himself, then straightened his tie and moved slowly towards Jenifer and her friends.  As usual, he felt his hands go clammy; he started to sweat and he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.  Then he froze.

He suddenly became aware that Mrs. Miller was standing beside him. He felt her hand touch his elbow as she spoke quietly to him.

“Listen, love, just take a deep breath and go up to her.”

“What do I say to her?”  He could sense panic starting to set in.

“Just say, hello Jenifer, you look nice this evening.  Fancy a dance?”

“No…. I can’t”

Without warning he felt himself being gently propelled towards Jenifer and her friends. He tried to wriggle out of it, but before he knew what was happening, he was standing in front of Jenifer.  Everyone was now staring at Frank.  No one moved, and then he suddenly came to his senses.

 “Hello Jenifer.  You look nice tonight.  When the music starts, would you mind if…”

Before he could finish, Jenifer stepped forward, took Frank by his shoulders, and leaned into him.

“Frank, I’d love to dance with you, all night, if you’d let me.”

Several of her friends started clapping and some even said out loud, “About time.”

That evening Frank walked her home. They talked about everything and nothing as they strolled hand in hand towards her home.  Frank noticed as they started to walk down Jamerson’s Drive. everyone seemed to have the same blinds and how, when the light shone on the blinds you could easily make out the silhouettes of the people who lived there. They began to laugh as they made up stories and jokes about some of the silhouettes.

Every Friday night, Frank would walk Jenifer home and after a while, he stopped remembering which turns to take, as long as he ended up at her red door with a bronze number 58 on it.

After three months, they were viewed by many of those who frequented the club, as the perfect couple, except Butterworth who had become jealous as he watched the love affair unfold and begun to plot to split them. He started to spread rumours about the two of them, and when confronted, he’d denied ever saying such things.

Then, on the first Friday of September, Phillipa, one of the girls who flat shared with Jenifer told him that Jenifer had gone down with the flu and was confined to her bed. For some reason, Frank felt a little let down.  Why hadn’t she told him herself, he thought.

During that week Frank tried telephoning her, but her line was always engaged.  Frank started to fret for her and on the following Friday, Frank, on entering the club sought out Phillipa.  He needed to know if Jennifer was alright.  As he approached, her on the dance floor he noticed that Phillipa was in the arms of someone.

As he tapped her on the shoulder, he noticed that the boy kissing her was Roy, and not Mike, her boyfriend.  Phillipa lazily glanced at Frank and realized that he wanted to know about Jenifer.

With a guilty expression on her face, she quietly said. “Not now Frank, I’m sorta busy.

Frank now felt rejected, and confused.  It was then that Max, one of his friends approached him.

“Listen Frank. It’s probably nothing, but that fat slob Jenkins, you know, he hangs around with Butterworth. Well, he’s just told me that Jenifer is fine and that Butterworth and her have been shacking up together for the past two weeks.”

Frank suddenly felt cold. He recalled the guilty expression on Phillipa’s face and that the two weeks Jenifer had been ill, were the same two weeks that Butterworth had been missing from the club. It all made sense now.

Something seemed to snap in Frank’s mind and he hurried towards the club door.  The cold night air brought him to his senses, as he turned and started to run towards Jenifer’s flat.  After twenty minutes, he realised that he wasn’t sure of his bearings, then he saw the street with the blinds at all the windows.

By now Frank’s imagination was running wild as he sprinted down the street until he came to the red door with the brass number 58, and stopped. His mind was all over the place.  Standing in the cold wind he saw the silhouette of two people come together on the blind.  His heart was pounding in his chest as they slowly embraced each other and began kissing slowly and passionately.

Frank screamed, then ran up to the red door, and began hammering on it, demanding that it be opened immediately.

The door was wrenched open and there, standing in front of him, was a tall ginger-haired man who, judging by the expression on his face, was not best pleased.

“What the hell do you want son?”

“I want to see Jenifer, right now!  I saw you kissing her.”

“Who is Jenifer?” As the man spoke, a woman appeared beside the man.

“Who is it darling?”

“This lad is looking for some girl called Jenifer.”

“Does your Jenifer work in Barclays?”

Frank was suddenly taken aback with the question and nodded.

The woman laughed. “Sorry love, but this is 58 Jamerson’s Drive.  Your Jenifer lives at 58 Jamerson’s Road, two streets down.

As Frank sprinted down the street, the woman yelled after him. “You can’t miss it, love, It has a brass number 58 on a bright red door.”

When Frank reached Jenifer’s flat, he stumbled up to the front door and rang the bell.  He seemed to wait for ages and began to wonder what he would do if Butterworth opened the door.  

Very slowly the door opened and there stood Jenifer, wrapped up as if she was about to go hiking in the Antarctic.

Frank just stood there admiring the girl he loved.  Jenifer smiled and he could see the love in her eyes, then she frowned as she realised that she must look a state, and went to close the door.

Frank stepped into the foyer, reached out and gently held her in his arms until he felt her respond. They stood there for a while, just holding each other.

“Jenifer, my darling, I was so worried about you.  I tried calling but your phone was always engaged.”

“I’m alright my love, just a really bad cold and didn’t want to be bothered.” 

Frank thought for a bit, then gently kissed her forehead.

“Darling, I love you so much and want to spend the rest of my life with you. We can be the silhouette on the shade.”

Upstairs in Jenifer’s bedroom, Butterworth lay listening to the conversation, then grinned.

 Copyright Bob French