DOVETAIL DIARIES ✔

Chapter One

There was this one guy there. I've seen him around the village before but I don't know his name or anything. He wore a black jacket, one of those fascist type ones with the bright orange lining.

Anyway, I saw him get up onto his feet. He staggered to the back of the crowd and started pushing his way through. I had a slight feeling of dread as I watched him progress forward. Eventually, he propelled through to the front of the crowd and for a while he just stood there, staring at me.

Now, I've had men stare at me before, but this was something different. He looked at me with hate, like he was imagining strangling me in some dark alley way or something. I could feel my stomach start to churn.

Then he said:

'You lot are making a right bloody racket. We don't want you here.'

He slurred as he spoke.

'I'm not going to stop cos you don't like it,' I said, trying to hold my own as the rest of the crowd jostled and shouted. 'You should see yourselves. You look like a bunch of old statues, clamped onto your pint glasses.'

'Uh,' he said, swaying about. 'She's got a right lip on her this one.'

'Sit down!' they all started shouting 'Siiiittt dooowwwn!!!'

I could feel Leo rising to his feet behind me. The man carried on:

'You and your band haven't got anything to offer this pub. So why are you here?'

I prayed silently that he would just shut his face and get out of the road.

'Ah, I remember your Mum used to sing here. Right here in this very pub. Oh yeah, I remember her.'

He came closer to me, his red nose poking right at me. My Mum. He was talking about my Mum. All I can remember at this point is the feeling of sickness. I must have looked completely white.

'She used to sing here too, didn't see? Oh yeah, she were a right cracker. I knew her very well.'

I felt like I'd been punched. The microphone dropped to the floor and the whole pub went quiet. I didn't even care that people were watching, I just stood there completely confused. Why did this man talk to me in this way? Everyone in the village knows what happened to my Mum. Well, none of us know exactly what happened.

So he just didn't stop, he carried on:

'Yeah, she were a love your Mum. Just like you – she couldn't sing for peanuts. But that weren't why we liked her, I can tell you. I can assure you of that. What a stunner.'

By this point I just fell back. Leo stood right behind me. He steadied me, thankfully. I said to the man.

'Just go away, we've got more songs to do.'

Oh I know it was a bit feeble and I should have been brave and punched him or something. I just wasn't ready for it. I keep replaying in my head some better way I could have handled him like doing some amazing kung fu kick or at least coming up with some clever come back. But that's not what happened. I didn't know what else to say.

Anyway, the man was drunk and he couldn't seem to do much more. Leo was ready at my side to get in there if needed. But the man just fell away then the crowd pushed him out the back and he was gone.

From this point onwards Cheryl looked all revved up like she was agitated in the extreme plus I think she kept on trying to watch for the man in the bomber jacket elsewhere in the pub.

Once he had gone I suddenly realised I was right in the middle of a gig. The microphone lay on the floor and the whole crowd stared at me. Leo, thank God, grabbed me by the arm and whispered into my ear, saying: