Rik descends the stairs from the darkening street. At the door a man with arms like small telegraph poles smiles and steps aside. Rik´s foot crosses the threshold as the sound of Cilla Black´s ``Step inside Love`` drifts upwards, beckoning him on. Inside , a smoky room , tables and people. Lots of people. Some smiling , some not. But all talking and drinking in the atmosphere. Our hero turns at the sound of a voice. ``welcome to headspace, sir - your usual table ?`` Rik is lead across the room to a table with 5 chairs. He takes his place and surveys the scene.
On a small stage , a young lady , perhaps 18 or 19, is singing . She ends her song although the sound of applause is almost drowned out by the clinking of glasses and buzz of conversation. `` This is an old favourite of mine `` she says, as the band ready themselves. `` Here , there and everywhere, by the Beatles...`` And a familiar tune fills the air. Rik remembers the song from way back . He recalls the songbird, and their exchanged voices on tape. Then, he notices another figure standing shadowed at the back of the stage. Another teenage girl also dressed in 70´s style , with wide flaring jeans. She is wearing a t-shirt and Rik can just make out the words ``I am important``, spelt out in florid lettering. Unexpectedly, after the last ´everywhere´ is sung, the first girl comes over and joins Rik at his table. ``It´s been a long time ...`` she says as she takes out her star book and places it carefully on the table.
``That's the great thing about this joint`` whispers Rik, to no-one in particular ``anything can happen , and frequently does...``
In the far corner of the room is an old upright piano. On the stool sits a man dressed smartly in what looks like an RAF uniform. He is playing ``Satin Doll``, cigarette smoke spiralling, forming perfect circles in the air. Though clearly not a great music fan, a lady attired in 40´s dress looks on and smiles. A smile which says everything. Two small girls , probably sisters, lean on the piano and laugh at the uniformed man´s jokes. They sing , the sound of their voices forming a counter-point in perfect time. As if in recognition of this little tableau, the clock high on the wall seems to miss a beat. Rik looks on, and landscapes form themselves only to slowly fade back into smoke.
Then a change of pace. The singer leaves the stage and recorded music takes her place. The sound of the Stones rolls out of the loudspeakers as Rik adds some sugar to his coffee. On the tiny dancefloor , a girl is dancing barefoot. She looks over and smiles at somebody. Rik thinks that somebody is him as she walks his way. ``I wasn't smiling at
you..`` she exclaims , but she sits down anyway. ``Oh, whatever...ouch, there´s so much broken glass on that floor ! `` They laugh and Rik buys her a drink. They talk, about art, music , fashion ... All those wonderful, superficial things. The club´s master of ceremonies, one Mr Jones ( something of a hero himself ) sings ``Time`` , which does what it always does ...
After buying another drink at the bar, Rik chats with the bartender, a funny guy with very curly red hair and a large friendly grin. He is wearing a blue shirt with yellow dots. ``Nice to see you again `` he says, and Rik shakes his hand ``You too ...`` Turning to return to his table, Rik notices a man sitting on a nearby barstool. Very surprisingly, he has a bicycle beside him. An odd thing to have in a club. Especially given the stairs at the entrance. They begin to talk. ``I´m Tony `` says Rik´s new acquaintance `` ...and I have an introduction to make``. He goes on to explain that he is a musician and will take the stage in a few moments. Rik only half believes him . But his new five-minute friend picks up his guitar and while he is playing, a young woman in unusual clothes watches and smiles . Later , walking to the cigarette machine , Rik literally bumps into her. They share a piece of cake and she talks about her home, and her taste in music . Over the pa an orchestra plays blue river music and the two dance in three-four time, moving in ever-decreasing circles. You might remember the two small girls, who now leave their place by the piano and join them on the floor. Later, back at the table, the walzing woman leans over so that only Rik can hear her voice. ``I am going now `` she whispers. ``Whatever you do , wherever you go , be happy...`` Rik looks up but she is dancing away again , leaving behind only a lingering scent of alpine air. ``Why is it always like this ?`` He is thinking out loud again, and the words seem to echo around the tables in the suddenly now very silent room. But the two young girls smile at him, and he cannot help but smile back. Somewhere, outside, the distant sound of the wind.
Behind the bouncer, arms folded leaning against the wall, the door opens as if blown by the wind, and a shadow flits across the floor. A tabby cat. The cat is not a member of the club. She has nothing at all to do with anyone in the smoky room. She just strolls in and lies down on the warm floor. And purrs...
Meanwhile, a figure unknown to the audience takes the stage and wipes his trumpet with a small cloth, and begins to play , accompanied by the small band. It´s an instrumental and the gentle sound drifts across the room. Rik is busy trying to find a book which he is sure he has in his pocket. It´s a page turner, and he wants to turn the pages. With an old pencil which he always carries, Rik scribbles a note at the foot of a page in the middle of the battered paperback. Then, the sound of voices behind him. Rik turns and notices , for the first time, a room in the corner of a room, set aside from the rest of the space. The door is slightly ajar (when is a door not a door ?) , and he can hear cultured voices raised in conversation. He walks over, and , unseen by the occupants who are seated in a circle, takes a look inside. One man at the table is wearing heavy spectacles. They are round and remind Rik of a bicycle perched on the man´s beaked , crow-like nose. The man is sketching in a notebook . The camera zooms in. There is what looks like a hand, extended skyward . Next to the hand are a series of horizontal and vertical lines, and the note. `` Forget the past..`` written in a language Rik does not yet know. Next to the be-spectacled man sits a balding figure wearing a striped t-shirt. He is busy repairing a pair of bicycle handlebars which Rik is sure belong to the five-minute-friend from further up the page . ``How helpful of him...`` thinks Rik. ``Bullshit`` mutters another, as if in reply to Rik´s unspoken thought. He is a younger man with red glasses who has a Yorkshire accent. There in front of him is - of all things- a sewing machine...
Curiously, at the other side of the table sits a young lady wearing a snow-white dress with red embroidery. She is scratching a small spot on her face and Rik has a strong urge to tell her to stop. In her other free hand she is clutching a book of poems , written in what looks like Russian. ``Maybe there are spies in here`` , thinks Rik. Suddenly she looks up at Rik, acknowledging his presence - a beat - and a look passes between the two of them as they realise they can see each other... `` I understand what you mean ..`` she whispers in her heavy accent, and Rik smiles back at her. Meanwhile , from the direction of the small stage, a song is floating out of the pa speakers. It´s ``Moon River``, from a film Rik remembers well. And so , it seems, does the un-named Cat, who purrs louder now.
As the small hours approach, it´s almost time for Rik to break his fast. The melancholic sound of an acoustic guitar issues forth from the sound system, the style of music befitting the times. Meanwhile, a group of headspace staff busy themselves, setting the stage once again.
Rik opens his much-read book at a random page and reads, the words illuminated by the candle burning at the centre of his table. He sometimes does this , just to check-in. The pages randomly fall open at a sentence...
``...it was the pure language of the world. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time...`` The sentence is written in the past tense , as if signalling that this has already happened. And a new, familiar yet unfamiliar figure, sits herself at the edge of Rik´s table.
``I liked your book ...`` She says . This is unexpected and the tone of her voice gives Rik the distinct impression of a person of considerable importance. A VIP. And he feels , for the first time this evening, more than a little nervous...
Rik looks around him and a curious thing happens. Small things, things which he had previously taken for granted, seem to take on a new and deeper significance. Above the bar are hung a number of objects , clearly the result of the work of an interior decorator. A car license plate . A license plate. Rik looks again and reads. ``BE ST 56 ``. A photo of a children´s birthday party. In it, on a table, are two cakes , sugar letters spelling out the names ``Lisa and Simon``. A second cake is decorated with what looks like an aircraft runway. And between them, a marzipan unicorn.
At that very moment she speaks . ``I am younger than you...`` She looks at him , although because of the arrangement of the lighting , her face remains in shadow. `` are you ill ?...you are thin `` Her features are suddenly illuminated by the flare of a lighter wielded by a nearby guest. Rik is sure he recognises her. He is surprised by what he sees. He can makes out a sensitive, beautiful face, half smiling as she momentarily looks at him. A moment. It is the face of someone he somehow knows, and instinctively trusts.
The newcomer´s dark eyes regard Rik in a way that gives him the impression that she knows more about him than he finds explicable. Very strange, given that they have never met before. And then, very surprisingly, she starts to sing along with the band in the corner. Rik finds himself smiling. The voice is sometimes a little raw, but fine none the less . As she punctuates the tune with little percussive sounds, suddenly years vanish from her face . She is young, but curiously , not.
Playfully she smiles her Leonardo-smile...``How tall are you?`` Rik looks puzzled for a moment and instinctively stands up. ``Not very tall at all then... `` she exclaims. They both laugh..`` ``I´m six foot or so`` Rik replies ``But sometimes, I feel very small indeed...almost like a child...``
Meanwhile, an elderly lady in a wheelchair not far from Rik´s table looks over and smiles. She says something, and noticing her there for the first time that evening, Rik looks up... `` Il y a beaucoup d'étapes. descendre l'escalier et voir ce qui se trouve ... `` However, no-one but Rik seems to notice this.
The newly arrived VIP takes Rik´s battered paperback from the table and with an expensive looking fountain pen writes something on the inside cover. And from the club PA comes the sound of George Harrison´s fabulous guitar. Rik takes back the book, reads and... ``Your spelling needs improvement `` A smile . ``I am intersted in ideas, not so much the spelln g``. ``Ah``... Rik thinks. A pause. Then it dawns on him. He had always preferred concepts. The big picture over and above the daily-dull details. But had always felt that this aspect of himself had not been appreciated. Or even understood.
But here, now was someone who he felt might, who just might...…
``I am no-one, Rik`` .. she says , reading his thoughts like a book. ``Thunder`` a song by some imaginary dragons, booms out of the speakers. It shakes the room, in stark contrast with the older song which preceded it. `` …Rik.?.``.And as she says his name, a strange feeling passes through Rik´s body. For a moment, which seems to last a very long time, Rik feels very, very happy. And he is transported, in his minds eye, back to his childhood.
...He is sitting in a tent pitched on the grass of his family´s small garden. It is summertime and he is reading a comic. Peter Parker has just discovered that the bite from a radioactive spider has given him superpowers. Young Rik longs to be someone with special powers, and has yet to realise that we all possess them, in our own unique ways. He dreams, and watches the sky at night, building all manner of things from discarded cardboard boxes. Space ships, time machines , buildings. He draws. Anything. Comic characters , people , landscapes...And he wants to be an architect when he grows up. He doesn't really understand why, but it is his big wish. To make things - big things, and to make them better than before.... One day he is playing in the front garden and is introduced to his neighbour´s niece. A pretty girl with curling hair, Antoinette is French, a little younger than him and is staying with her English aunt and uncle. A pause, as the sound of the music returns to full volume. Once again sitting at his table in the smoky club, Rik remembers. He could not understand her , nor he him.
But the memory of longing´s small beginnings is stirred from deep inside.
Longing. Rik lifts his glass . The VIP lifts her glass and proposes a toast. ``To lost loves...`` she says. Rik nods .
She exists , and that is more than enough ..
...to be continued...
