LITMIR.BIZ

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kept banging on the door, so I slipped the small plastic hair dye bottle into my pocket and answered. Steve pestered me to hurry, so in my haste, I forgot about the bottle.”

      He took a slurp of coffee and continued, “We did a soundcheck after Elvin fitted his little falsies, and we played. Engrossed in beating out a rhythm, I didn’t notice the bottle of hair dye slip out of my pocket and lodge under the foot pedal of my bass drum. I stamped on the pedal and the top of the bottle popped off.”

      “A stream of black hair dye spurted over the cream-coloured, shag-pile carpet,” interrupted Steve. “And the worse thing is, old deaf boy didn't see it and carried on stomping on the pedal... You should have seen his face when he realised what happened and picked up the empty bottle.”

      Elvin sniggered as he recalled the event, remembering how Steve warned Wayne about how Chewy would crush his knackers unless he serviced her.

      “Well you made matters worse, buddy,” said Wayne smirking.

      Steve looked embarrassed as Wayne continued and pointed at him. “Because old ripey was laughing so hard, he farted.”

      “It was too much excitement for my uncontrollable dysfunctional bowel and it belched out foul-smelling puffs of gas,” said Steve, smirking.

      “Foul-smelling puffs of gas. That's a goddamn understatement. It smelt like putrid eggs blowing out of your ass” interrupted Wayne smiling.

      “It was like being gassed,” said Elvin, “it wez ‘orrible.”

      Charles was enjoying every moment of this light-hearted banter, as Wayne told him. “Chewy walked into the rec room, saw the black stains on the carpet, and smelt the pungent air around old ripey. She pinched her nose and accused us of letting off stink-bombs and throwing paint over the shag pile.”

      “She wuz livid,” said Elvin, “and glared at us with 'err 'ands on 'err 'ips, screaming about wilful acts of vandalism, calling us senile destructive old men, and she called the boss, his daughter,” he pointed at Steve.

      “And her crush on old deaf boy was over,” chuckled Steve.

      “We felt like scolded schoolboys when the furious doctor and Mrs Chew came into the recreation room and bollocked us. We had tried scrubbing the dye off the carpet, but only spread the stain around,” said Elvin. “They threatened to kick me and Wayne out.”

      “Yeah, but fortunately they only banned us from playing music again,” said Wayne.

      Steve chuckled and said, “But now that you're here, Charley boy, I'm sure I can persuade Lucy to let us rehearse again.”

      Charles cringed, and through grated teeth said. “Oh, that would be nice.”

      “So what’s the plan? We can’t sit around here all day and I don’t fancy bingo,” said Elvin.

      “I’ll call Lucy,” said Steve, taking out his mobile phone.

      Elvin looked at Charles and in a soft voice said. “When we saw you yesterday, you looked like you had just lost someone very close, was it your wife?” he asked.

      Charles nodded.

      Elvin gently squeezed Charles's arm and said. “My world collapsed and I felt lost and alone when my missus died. I wanted to end it and I fink about her all the time,” he looked at Charles, smiled, and told him, “It gets easier Nobby, and we are always here for you. The band of wrinkled brothers,” he chuckled and said. “Life’s too short to be sad.”

      Charles gasped. “That’s what my wife Mary always said.”

      Elvin smiled. “And she was right.”

      “Great news lads,” interrupted Steve looking pleased, “Lucy will have a word with Chewy. We can start rehearsing again tomorrow.”

      “Great, well done buddy!” exclaimed Wayne.

      Elvin put his hand on Charles’s shoulder, smiled, and said. “Now the healing begins Nobby.”

      The four spend the afternoon in the gardens planning for the next day and Charles told them about Mary.

      Mrs Chew came outside on occasions and glowered at the four after receiving Lucy’s instructions.

      Apart from Steve terrorising the old folk and warning them what lay in store, it was a sedate day for the old musicians.

      After the evening meal, they strolled along to the Pavilion.

      They sat on the same bench around the table and while Steve lit a cigarette, Elvin leaned over to Charles and said. “I suppose you want to know what happened to my fingers and me little falsies, and 'ow a cockney ended up in Cleeforpes?”

      Charles had been wondering about Elvin’s lack of digits since they first met, but felt too embarrassed to ask. Now Elvin had offered to disclose the fact, he wanted to know and nodded. Elvin held up his pincers and said. “I lost these many years ago when I was a stoker in the Royal Navy. They selected me for the Portsmouth *Field gun crew and I spent the next few years shore-based at H.M.S. Nelson in Portsmouth, training for the royal tournament at Earls’ court. During one training session, while running with a 12-pound gun, the wheels slipped as we tried to lift it over the wall. I made a grave error of judgement and ignored the warnings from me training and grabbed the wheel to stop it slipping.” He held up his hands. “I trapped me bloody ‘ands underneath and it cut me fingers clean off.” Elvin sighed and looked sullen. “That was the end of me service career.”

      He then chuckled and continued, “Never mind, it worked out for the best. Pensioned out at thirty-five, I came to Grimsby to look for work on trawlers and met me missus, Anna, and we had three great kids. When they laid me off from the trawlers in the '80s, I built a workshop on a large piece of land at the back of our ‘ouse, which I kitted out with tools and machinery. I started making medical prosfetics, starting with me own ‘little falsies.’ Then I made prosfetics for the surgical department at the general 'ospital. I turned me little 'obby into a lucrative business.” He smiled. “The money I saved plus me pensions will last me out.”

      The four chatted, drank, and apart from Charles, who knew his eardrums would be tortured again, felt excited about the next day.

      Charles felt comfortable around these three miscreants and by 10:00 pm, the four old-timers, merrily spannered, staggered back to Fossdyke.

      Charles, feeling unsteady, flopped into his armchair. He felt the room spinning so closed his eyes and told Mary about his day, before dozing into a blissful slumber.

      -Track Three-

      After breakfast, the four hung-over old men went to the recreation room.

      Steve, Wayne, Elvin, and Charles sat around the piano while several other residents milled around, knowing they were safe for now as their nemeses were talking and had no instruments.

      Wayne opened his briefcase, took out pages of handwritten music, and handed them to Charles, who smiled and looked through the pages. He read the music to one song, which he played, while the others listened.

      Steve and Elvin looked impressed, as did Charles as he played the melancholy ballad Wayne had entitled, ‘Vulnerable.’ Charles finished playing, and they looked at Wayne.

      “That

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