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
