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| Electric Acorn 12 : Short Stories: |
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Strangers in the Night
"Strangers in the night, de da de da da, strangers in the n…ght, de da de da da," Finbar Keely hummed the words as he ploughed out the melody on the on the keys. "Strangers in the night," funny, he thought, my favourite piece of music and yet I hardly know the words.
"De da de da
da," he glanced around the spacious lounge; to the corner between
the brick fireplace and the bend in the counter where a card game was
in progress, to the door where a girl was collecting the cover charge
in a biscuit box and finally across the centre where dozens of people
were seated at various levels on stools and chairs.
"De da de da da," if it was physically possible for Finbar Keely
to clap himself on the back and at the same time play the piano he would
have seriously considered doing so.
"God, I'm doing well," he sang the words to the air of the song
as his mind began to reflect on the evening so far, the grand entrance
as he elbowed hi way through the crowd and mounted the rostrum. Slipping
off his jacket and running his fingers over the keys, now that as a smart
thing to do, he figured. He had seen some famous players do it, including
Phil Coulter. It was a sure way of grabbing the crowd's attention too,
"de da de da" Actually he had done it twice.
"Yes, I will do it twice every time. So it will be Phil Coulter once
and Finbar Keely twice. After all there would have to be some distinguishing
feature between myself and the famous Derryman when I do make it to the
top."
"Yes, it's that second little flurry that makes all the difference."
As for grabbing the crowd's attention, only the hard of hearing could
have failed to notice the drop in the hub of conversation across the spacious
lounge that Sunday evening.
"Give us a few bars there, let it rip, further indications that the
second piano roll had the desired affect came from various
parts of the lounge. Finer Keely however, was taking it all in his stride.
This is something that I'll have to get used to, he figured.
"Requests on a piece of paper, please," he turned around to
face the audience, not at all too happy about the little interruptions,
which were now causing him to miss notes. "There now I've made another
one, de da de da da."
Finbar however, was philosophical in his approach to these little eventualities.
It was something he would have to get used too. So what if he had made
a few mistakes, He touched the wood of the piano. He touched it again.
He liked to do everything twice. "It's my little eccentricity,"
he had told Trish when she asked him to elaborate. "You know the
story," he added. "Like Bruce Forsyth and the 'nice to see you'
catch-phrase, Tom O' Connor and the loud pullovers, Mike Murphy and the
dancing." Trish had accepted his explanation without as much as a
word leaving him to dream about bearded banjo players and bald headed
folk singers. "My God, I'm after making another mistake, concentrate
Finbar," he scanned the crowd to see if they had noticed
Finbar Keely had reckoned with some little distractions. He was only too
well aware that it would be hard to concentrate on the notes with patrons
constantly coming and going. He had mentioned this to his sister earlier…But
Trish had only remarked that this was an occupational hazard that he would
have to get used to.
However, there are distractions and distractions and when he happened
to glance to his right half way through the second number he had no doubt
that it was going to take all his powers of concentration to get through
this performance without some serious blunders. He just could not take
his eyes of the middle-aged couple and the young lady sitting directly
to his right. Unsure as to where he had seen them before he continued
to struggle with the notes stumbling more than once in his rendering of
the Beatle's famous number.
"Concentrate
Finbar," he mumbled. "Forget about that young lady with the
distinctive hair do and the leather jacket" "De da da"
his thoughts switched to the previous week when he reckoned that he had
finally mastered the tune.
"I've perfected it, just listen." And sure enough Trish did
listen. Yes Trish was more than just an only sister. She was his sounding
board too.
Well what do you think, Trish?" He had asked her after giving his
own unique version of famous number.
"I don't know," Trish had replied. "I just don't know,
maybe you should keep practising it for another week or two.
"Too late,Trish " he had told her. "I'm already booked
to play my first stint next Sunday evening in 'The Bird's Nest, de da
de da da."
"I've a plan," he announced to Trish on Sunday morning. "I
will play a few well known number early on and then when most of the crowd
have a few drinks, I play my own brand of music. Then immediately after
the break I'll give them 'Strangers in the Night, de da de da da."
If Finbar Keely had been counting on applause alone it would have been
anything but a successful performance. Indeed except for the announcement
that there would be a ten-minute interval there had been a noticeable
lack of reaction from the crowd. Blissfully unaware however, he carried
on, "de da de da da." He was doing all right, he had figured.
"Strangers in the night, two lonely people, together." He was
also making eye contact with the young lady with the distinctive hairstyle
and the glittering ear rings.
"De de de, there must be something wrong with this tuning, that's
the third wrong key I'm after striking ," Finbar was now beginning
to have serious doubts about the piano.
I'll just have to concentrate harder, keep my mind off the young lady
with the distinctive hair do and the pearl necklace.
I just cannot afford to let fans distract me. Keep your head Finn, blast
I've made another mistake, It's definitely the piano." Finbar Keely
was definitely struggling.
Acoustically
the lounge attached to the 'Bird's Nest' licensed premises was among the
best in the county if not in Ireland. Every note, every word could be
delivered to every part of the interior with a clarity that would do justice
to a great music hall.
Indeed it was widely held that the original owner had designed the layout
from the plan of a well-known Paris music hall. Some of the country's
top musicians played there at weekends. Moreover the patrons were among
the most discerning music lovers in the county. Trish had pointed this
out to her brother several times before the night.
"You have a hard act to follow," she had said. Now with Finbar
struggling through yet another attempt at 'Strangers in the Night' she
dearly wished that she had pressed home this point with more assertiveness.
Experienced performers on stage and cabaret acknowledge that there is
always a slight time lag between the last notes or words of a rendering
and the first tentative of approval from the audience. This is understandable
when one considers that what might appear to the audience as nothing more
than a pause for breath will be, as far as the performer is concerned,
the actual end of the act. Poets experience this, singers too. Time lags
of between one and three seconds are the norm. This of course depends
on the size of the hall and the crowd. For the lounge attached to the
'Bird's Nest' the usual time lag was a fraction over two seconds. This
could be extended to three at weekends especially if mass inebriation
was a deciding factor. Finbar Keely however, was blissfully unaware of
this phenomenon. If in fact he had then he could have been spared at least
two minutes of extreme anxiety. But even armed with this tit bit of information
it is doubtful if he would have waited three minutes for the first inkling
that anyone except the young lady with the distinctive hair style and
the broad smile had actually listened to his latest attempt at 'Strangers
in the Night.
"Excuse
me, excuse me please," Finbar Keely turned slowly towards the voice
which seemed to soothe the back of his neck. Candles of recognition flickered
somewhere the back of hi mind. It could not be, it was. Suddenly the candles
seemed to explode in one great big blinding flash. Yes, it was the young
lady with the distinctive hair do and the brown eyes. "Yes miss you
wanted to talk to me"
"As a matter of fact I've been trying to get your attention all evening,"
she said. "Actually I was hoping you would do me a favour."
"Anytime," Finbar was all ears.
"Well it's like this, it's my parents twenty fifth anniversary today."
She turned to wave across to the right where they had been sitting. Finbar
watched as they responded and waited for her next words.
"As a special favour I was hoping that you would play a request for
them."
"Certainly, had you anything in particular in mind?" Finbar
nodded towards the keys in a little mumble of body language, which clearly
stated that his repertoire was equal to any challenge.
"Well as it happens there is one number that they are extremely fond
of, in fact you could call it their tune."
"And it is," Finbar was ready to roll.
"Strangers in the Night, Strangers in the Night " she repeated.
"They haven't heard in a long time. Do you know it, de da de da da,"
she hummed the words.
"'Fraid not miss, it must have been way before my time
My poems have been published widely in magazines such as Fortnight, Riverine, Ratpit, Riposte, The Drumlin and have also featured on Ulster Television's "Valley of the Kings" I have also won prizes including Hopkins in Kildare, The Nora Fahy in Clare, The Kavanagh in Louth the Allingham in Donegal and the Ledwidge in Dublin. More recently I have been second in The Bard of Armagh and shortlisted in Strokestown. I have been leader of The Meath VEC Adult Education Writer's Circle since 1992
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