[Romantic Old Bird]

Hi Sticks! It's a bit too alternative for me really, sorry!

I did my bit on alternatives in Casablinka, remember?...................




Casa-blink-a

This all stems from a dream ROB experienced after a late night chat with a fellow lunatic poster on this site. She k_nows who she is……………………………….


Scene: A Café/Bar somewhere in Ibiza. Late Summer 2003

It’s 2am in the busy little place, which is presently somewhat dominated by a loud and merry group of friends from Munchen Gladbach.

In the centre of the bar, on a small raised podium, the resident musician sighs as he completes his haunting rendition of Rodriguez Guitar Concerto number one, and pauses to acclaim the scattered applause of the few people close e_nough to hear him over the cacophony of _noise in the bar.

‘How about playing something gut _now?’
came a shout from the back of the club.

‘Ja! How about, a David Hasselhof number?’

‘Yeah mate, you wish!’
came a disembodied voice from the other side.

‘ Yeah, that’s e_nough of that shite, how about ‘Three Lions’? eh? 4:1, 4:1, 4:1, 4:1……………..’

‘This is unreal’ , thought the guitarist,
‘I am an artist. Just how did I end up here?’

Suddenly he became aware of someone walking up behind him.

‘How about DeLuxe Dean?’, came a whisper in his ear.

Dean looked round, and was amazed to see Helen, resplendant in a simple, figure hugging and faintly glittering black dress, standing right beside him.

‘Bloody hell, Helen, what are you doing here? I mean, it’s lovely to see you, but, I didn’t expect to find you here, never in a million years!’

‘Yeh well, we’ve all done a few things we never thought we would Dean. What are you doing yere, playing yere? ‘

asked Helen, sitting down beside him on a stool, ig_noring the wolf-whistles from the crowd.

‘It’s a long story H. I mean, things just happen, don’t they? I was in between gigs, Vanessa's airline is on this run anyway, and Paul needed someone to play here, and I thought, you k_now, why _not?’ said Dean. ‘But this in here lot today…’

‘How is he Dean? How is Mr Clarke?’ asked Helen

‘He’s _not good, Helen - it’s been re-ally bad for him. To be honest, he really doesn’t need to see you right _now. I mean, he’s just getting back on his feet again, after a year.’

‘Does he hate me?’ asked Helen, ‘No, don’t answer that. I k_now he must. I would, if I was him, I would’.

‘He doesn’t hate you, he says it really ‘cool’ that you, and you k_now, ‘him’ have sorted out your differences said Dean.

‘Does he think that’s what it was?’ asked Helen

‘What else would he think?’ said Dean.

'He k_nows you were going to see the bloke, and then the very next day, I mean, you just didn’t turn up.’

‘Oh don’t Dean, if I could just explain…… ‘
said Helen, sadly and helplessly………….

‘Listen Helen, you don’t need to explain to me, you k_now! He was humiliated, poor bloke. The photo’s in Hello, of him standing, waiting, he just had to leave the country……….’
said Dean, looking up to find the crowd were _now getting restless for entertainment.

‘You gone on strike man? Play something for us!’, boomed a Geordie voice near the podium.

‘Play it Dean!’ said Helen. ‘Play De-Luxe for me.’

‘I can’t Helen, I promised I wouldn’t’

‘You can Dean, you can, do it for me. la-dida-deda-deda, la-deda dedaaaaaa’

‘Alright, just this one time, he’s _not here anyway, I’ll play it once for you’ , said Dean, strumming his way into the introduction.

Helen slipped back off the podium, sat down on a stool by the bar, closed her eyes and swayed from side to side, letting the music wash over her.

‘Lush’ she murmured, ‘He’s my bow-ow-oat on an open sea, he is one, he is me, if I…….’.

She stopped, opened her eyes and looked at Dean enquiringly. His hand was still against the frets, and he was staring out of the gloom of the bar, towards the bright lights outside. She felt her neck tingle in anticipation as she looked across to see the outline of a figure framed against the door. Dean was unable to stop himself from turning back to where he knew she was sitting.

The figure slowly turned to follow Dean’s gaze and looked across at her. She gasped involuntarily, and felt in that instant as if all the air had been had been squeezed out of her. Even across a room, in the darkness, through the haze and the maze of people, ……Paul Clarke! Oh, she could feel him looking at her, through her! Every fibre of her body, every cell, willed her to run across to him.

Paul narrowed his eyes, as if to reassure himself that what he had seen was real. He smiled, shook his head and drew deeply on his cigarette. He removed it from his mouth and exhaled very, very, slowly. ‘Of all the bar joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she had to walk into mine’. he said, to _no-one in particular, as he walked towards Dean.

‘Listen mate, I didn’t want to, I mean, I knew you wouldn’t like me to, but she really wanted to hear it’, said Dean.

‘Hey, Dean, listen it’s your song. I don’t have any right to ask you _not to sing it. I was completely out of order.’ said Paul, sitting down beside him. He looked across at the bar stool, then stood to look around the crowded bar. Helen had gone.

‘Oh God, did you see where she went Dean?’ asked Paul

‘No, I didn’t. Sorry. She seemed, you k_now, really sad. She seemed much more grown up as well’, Dean responded.

‘You k_now she never even said goodbye, never came back for her clothes’.

‘I k_now mate, I k_now’ said Dean

‘I was completely gutted. I couldn’t imagine life without her. Did she say why she was here?’ asked Paul

‘No, there wasn’t time, I had to start singing again, my set wasn’t over. It isn’t over _now. Shall I ask Trev to put on a cd?’

‘No, you started to sing it, so sing it Dean.’

‘No Paul, I don’t think so, you don't really want to hear it’.

‘You played it for her, _now play it for me. Play it Dean’

‘OK bossman, calm down.’ Dean closed his eyes, and started to sing again.

‘…straightens my lapels, says it’s easily done……..’

Paul walked slowly towards the door, and looked out at the crowds as they laughed and stumbled their way along the seafront. After a few moments he turned, shouted to attract the barman’s attention, and threw his keys back across to him. ‘Lock up for me Trev’, he shouted.

‘OK Paul, cheers mate!’ said Trev, effortlessly catching them before returning to cheerfully polish the glasses, oblivious to the drama around him.

Paul walked out of the bar, through the crowds, bumping heedlessly into them.

‘Oooy, what’s your game?’ shouted one of them after him, but Paul walked on blindly towards the water’s edge. ‘Ere, Kev, int that the bloke wot was on Big Brother, him that was always in the den with that Helen?’

‘Yeah, I reckon it was. She left him you k_now, at the church!’ said Kev.

‘Poor sod. Oh well, where shall we go _now?’ he asked, already disinterested as they staggered further along.

Paul looked along the beach and out to sea. He was shaken. He had thought he was getting over it, but _now he could feel her, taste her. She was somewhere close, and he knew he wanted to be with her, _no matter what the cost, _no matter how much it hurt.

‘Hello Mr Clarke’. He heard her voice and found to his surprise that he was suddenly crying. He knew the tears were pouring silently down his cheeks as he turned around, but it didn’t matter. He had to see her.

‘You look beautiful H’ he said simply. It was e_nough.

‘You look rough’ she said, looking at him with compassion.

‘Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, I’m fine mate’, he replied.

‘I don’t think you are Paul, and I don’t blame you. I hurt you didn’t I?’ asked Helen.

‘I’d be lying if I said you didn’t. I would be lying. I was absolutely gutted. I didn't k_now what I'd done wrong. I thought it was what you wanted. The wedding, Hello, everything’ said Paul

‘It was Paul, it really was but…..’

‘Was it him H, was it seeing him?’ asked Paul, _not really wanting to hear her answer.

‘It was’ she answered.

‘Right’ said Paul, reaching for a_nother cigarette as a wave of nausea overwhelmed him. ‘Fair e_nough. After all, I can’t really talk can I? I did the dirty on him. If it’s what you want, fair do’s. So why come here _now? Is he with you?’

‘No Paul, _no, he’s never been ‘with’ me,’ she replied.

‘Then why, why, did you do that to me?’ said Paul . ‘I don’t understand, I thought we were going to be together forever.’

‘It’s a long time Paul’

‘Forever? Yeah, that’s the idea. I wanted that’.

‘Did you really Paul?’

‘I thought you did!’ he said

‘But I didn’t think you did really. I talked to him and he asked me if I thought I was being fair to you, marrying you. I thought, he’s right, I’m _not being fair. Mr Clarke hasn’t had _no choice. So I left. I done it for you Paul Clarke, I done it for you. Anyway, I’ve got to go _now’, said Helen.

‘Why, who are you with?’

‘I’m with Rhoda and Paul and Robyn and Jackson. We been staying over the other side of the island’.

‘Right’

‘We got to go home today. Later today I mean’

‘Right’

‘So I’ll go then’

‘You better’

‘Oh, Paul.....’

He moved back quickly as she stepped towards him. ‘Night then,’ he said.

He stubbed out his cigarette in the sand, looked up at her, turned sadly and walked away.

Helen sighed and made her way back to the little hire car to begin her journey back to her hotel and out of his life forever.

The airport, that evening, at 11pm.

‘Will all passengers for RY 610, the 23.40hours flight to Cardiff please go to gate number 7’, boomed the tan_noy.

‘That’s it then’, said Helen ‘Let’s go’.

‘Oh, Helen, did you really talk to him?’ asked Rhoda.

‘I tried, I tried to, but I haven't got any right to ask him to listen.. I really hurt him Rhoda. He was cryin’. Love him. ‘

‘You’ve got to go back, talk to him again, get a later flight!’

‘No, I can’t, I just can’t’, said Helen sadly.

Rhoda looked past Helen's shoulder at a figure running towards them.

‘Turn round Helen,’ said Rhoda

‘Why, what’s going on?’

A voice behind her said, ‘You just can’t what Helen?’

Helen turned around to see Paul, still gasping for breath from his run across the airport.

‘Paul!’, she cried

‘H.............’

‘Oh Paul, you came!’

‘You knew I would’

‘But how?’

‘I phoned your mum’

‘Did you?’

‘Yeah, I did. And she said ‘about bloody time’.

‘She never!’

‘She bloody did, and I told her, I said you’re right Lizzie’

‘Did you? Why?’

‘Because I had to’

‘You had to?’

‘Yeah, because I knew, when I saw you I knew’

‘Knew what?’

‘Last call for passengers on the RY 610, 23.40hrs flight to Cardiff. Please go to gate number 7 _now’, boomed the tan_noy.

‘ I knew that if I didn’t, I would regret it. Maybe _not tonight, maybe _not tomorrow, but soon, and for the rest of my life. Come here Helen. We have to be together.’

‘Oh Paul, can we just go back to Hadley Wood?’

‘It’s waiting for you H. Like I’ve been waiting’.

‘Rhoda?’ said Helen, turning to to her friend.

‘I k_now Helen’ she replied. 'I k_now'.

‘We’ll be back soon’

‘I’m so happy for you both. We'll see you back home’

‘Bye Rhoda, bye Paul, Robyn, Jackson, Bye’ she waved, as they disappeared through the gate.

‘Bloody hell, Paul Clarke!’ shouted Helen.

‘What’s the matter H?’

‘I ain’t got _no bloody clothes, _nothing, they’re all on that plane!’

‘So for starters, you’ll have to sleep in the buff!’

‘That’s _not so bad then……’ said Helen, laughing as they walked out of the airport.

‘Can we still get married then Paul?’

‘Yeah, but _no fuss, _no Hello, just a quiet one!’

‘OK then’

‘Paul?’

‘Yeah?’

‘How about abroad?’

‘We could do H, we could do. Here?’

‘No, I was thinking America’

‘Florida? OK, It’s nice there’

‘No I was thinking Las Vegas, the Chapel of Love................’

‘You make me laugh Helen’

‘Do I, why?’

‘You just do’………………………………………………………………..




And _now ROB disappears into the mist, seeking urgent psychiatric aid.