Band Cramp

Kerry-Anne kept a closer eye on Gareth whilst he was around the house, as if concerned that he'd disappear if not in sight. Gareth had noticed her watching him through the cracks of his bedroom door from time-to-time, or listening out for him in the kitchen. It was rather creepy, Gareth thought, but it was the most she'd paid attention to him for years.

Then, one evening, she finally spilled the beans to something else, which Gareth wasn't quite expecting.

'We've been getting phone calls,' she announced as Gareth went to drink some milk.

'Calls? You been seeing some guys, again?' Gareth responded, before pouring out a tiny bottle of semi-skimmed milk into his half-pint glass.

'Yeah, I mean, no. That ain't the point. No one speaks on the other end of 'em and we've had loads of them, recently.'

'Them creepers will get off to listening to you speak down the phone,' Gareth smirked.

'No' Kerry-Anne simply responded, her expression grave.

Gareth felt a rising unease. He put on a serious face as he examined his mother's own. She looked on edge, which was unlike her over some petty calls. In fact, Gareth had noticed she had slumped about in her "special chair" all week, without the television on. She simply stared into the distance and smoked her cigarettes, as if lost in deep thought and anxiety. The last time she acted this way was...

'It can't be,' Gareth uttered to himself.

'It wouldn't be anyone else,' Kerry-Anne affirmed.

Gareth then found himself giving the same thousand-yard stare that his mother had been giving. It was no wonder why she was so uneasy. His memories were shrouded in mist, but the odd window of clarity would push through, showing a ragged, podgy figure, with an unshaven face and a crop of greying hair atop his head. His eyes were tired, and his frown lines adorned his head and around his mouth. His beer belly pushed out his polo t-shirts, whilst scruffy jeans hugged his legs. His name was Birch Firkins and he was the only person who caused ambivalence in both anger and anxiety within Gareth.

'Dad?' Gareth croaked, feeling his eyes focus back into the kitchen.

Kerry-Anne inhaled and closed her eyes, which was all Gareth needed to confirm his suspicions.

His mind raced. Why now? Why contact them after all this time? It seemed pointless. In fact, it made Gareth somewhat angry that Birch hadn't contacted him all this time, then suddenly decided to call Kerry-Anne. It was maddening, even. Yet, Gareth realised he couldn't let himself fall prey to his anger. His father hadn't been a part of his life for this long, and no was no longer room for him. Providing the phone calls were, indeed, from him, Gareth would have to ignore them. It was just a case in whether or not his mum could.

Shaking his head, Gareth placed his half-pint glass on the kitchen counter, and went into the hallway to pick up his trumpet case. Kerry-Anne leant in the kitchen doorway, once more.

'At least you've stuck this out,' Kerry-Anne stated.

Gareth grunted in response. Had Kerry-Anne's tone been more proud, it would've meant the world to him, but she said it was such flatness that it felt like she was making idle conversation, to take her mind away from the phone calls.

'Carnival, today. Gotta go,' Gareth replied, grabbing Stefan's cap and heading for the blazing sun of the wasteland beyond their house.

'Warren says your final show's next weekend. I ain't doin' much but avoidin' the phone, like, so...'

Gareth stopped in the front doorway. He felt... unnerved, distresses... elated! He felt elated! He turned to face his mother, feeling a small smile creep upon his face.

'Sure, I'll get you a seat on the coach,' Gareth warmly replied.

'Cheers.'

With that, Gareth adjusted his cap and gave a wave to his mum using the back of his hand. This was what he'd always wanted - his mum to finally take an interest in what he was doing. She'd be able to see all that he'd achieved... and finally, maybe, she would be proud.

********************

Engayne Avenue was chock full of lorries, each with an open trailer crammed with children. Dressed in all manner of exotic gold mermaid outfits, animals and even some teenagers posing as air hostesses, the kids all stood on the trailers, waiting to give their costumed performance to the small crowds which stood at either side of the road. Gareth looked on at the line of five trailers and frowned. When he was younger, he could have sworn that they averaged at 15 lorries, with the roadsides lined with immense crowds of cheering townsfolk. Now, it was a pale shadow of its former self, but at least the entire event hadn't been killed by the rising age of technology, which had no doubt caused the profound dwindle. It was either that or health and safety madness.

Brushing his Adonis uniform down, Gareth averted his eyes from the white nylon which illuminated in the summer weather. In fact, he felt hot and flustered beneath the thick material, wishing that they'd march in t-shirts, instead. He could only give a whimper, however, as he put on his feathered hat in sweaty resignation that they were all in this together, ready to melt into a puddle of death.

Chase dressed in a similar uniform, which had evidently been modified from earlier that year - it had an immense grey, drunk triangle down the outside of each black trouser leg, whilst a red jacket sat atop his torso. Gold buttons reflected the bright, midday light, like miniature balls of the very fire in the sky. His black shako hat, adorned with a white plume, was nestled under his left arm as he surveyed the street. Mandy stood next to him in a larger than normal version of Gareth's white uniform, looking rather obsolete compared to her co-corps director.

Just as Gareth decided to blow some air through his trumpet, ensuring not to make much of a sound, a great shadow was cast. Looking up, a truck veered close to him, causing Gareth to back-step on top of the pavement. It pulled into a turning, having sidled alongside the trucks, and gleamed in the summer sun.

The black truck stopped just short of where Adonis' cyan band vehicle had been parked. At twice the size of Adonis' in length and somehow much taller, it was a beast in comparison. It seemed not just suspicious, but familiar...

Gareth groaned. He recognised the truck and it wasn't a good sign. Many other members also recognised the truck from Leicester, where it had parked opposite their coach, instruments having been left there for Gareth and Old Man Sam to tamper with. It was, of course, the truck of The Falcons.

'What blasted dunderhead would invade the turf of another corps?' Chase fumed.

'Look at this, my angry raspberry,' Mandy cooed over a sheet of paper.

Chase snatched the piece of paper from Mandy's hand, which revealed the programme for the carnival day. There, listed with Adonis, was The Falcons. They'd been double-booked to march and lead the parade.

'What treachery is this?!' Chase growled.

No one answered him.

Spitting onto the paper and then scrunching it up, Chase stood there seething for a few seconds before finally taking a deep breath.

'Let's show up those blathering ankle-biters. Positions, people!' Chase called, ricocheting the crumpled up paper off of Gareth's forehead.

Trying not to find himself too heated, Gareth meandered to the front of the line of lorries, where a block of three people in width were forming. The percussion were already ready and Stefan had positioned himself at the front-right of the brass section, behind the drums. He beckoned to Gareth. As Stefan had once said, the trumpets should head to the front of the brass, somewhere.

'Pah, I'll be in the top left,' Gareth responded to Stefan, lining up behind Cindy.

They stood there for several minutes as everyone readied themselves. Gareth couldn't help but grab a look around at the small kids on parents' shoulders on either side of the road, or look back at the block behind him, focusing on Elisa in her wheelchair, ready to "march" with the rest of them. He admired her for wanting to do this so fervently.

'Hit it, Chumly Junior,' Mandy called.

Yammers Junior hit his bass drum to a steady beat. Dum. Dum. Dum. Silence. Dum. Dum. Dum. Silence.

'Corps mark time and,' Chase commanded.

Gareth lifted his left heel off of the ground ever so gently, keeping his toes rooted to the spot. He dropped his left heel to the ground to every bass drum beat, whilst lifting his right heel into the air at the same time.

'Forward, hut!'

He placed his left foot forward, heel to the ground, and rolled into a forward pace with Sadie, to his right, and Stefan, further to his right. It was time to lead the parade!

The lorries all beeped in celebration, behind them, slowly rolling to their pace. Their contents of children cheered in their colourful costumes, representing their school or Scout association... or, in the case of the air hostesses, themselves.

Chase kept his eye on the block, casually walking to the left of them, somewhere. He kept particularly close to Gareth, which wasn't a cause of concern, as Gareth knew there wasn't anything he'd do to muck this event up. Apparently, such a parade would earn the corps some much needed cash to help fund for the trip to their finals show. As Adonis wasn't funded in any other way (as Chase reminded them time and time again, it was a non-profit organisation with its own charity number), they relied on the money paid to them for this parade, by the Sandy town council. Probably "persuaded" them out of a free march, Gareth thought, as he kept his pace in the blazing summer sun.

Then, about-facing, Chase slowly walked backwards, almost moon-walking. At first, Gareth thought this some stupid stunt for attention, but then he realised Chase was about to call them to attention.

'Corps ten hut!' Chase called.

Flicking his horn up with the other brass members, Gareth prepared to start playing their rendition of the world's cheesiest parade music, featuring Down at the Old Bull and Bush, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, K-K-K-Katy, Lily of Laguna and Land of Hope and Glory. It was enough to make Gareth vomit.

Finally, in between another repeat of the five tunes, the percussion played their drum cadence of Hot, Pepper, Cheese, which was by far their best rhythmic piece. This gave the brass ample time to carry their horns by their side for a while, whilst still slowly marching down the streets of Sandy.

Gareth had barely learnt the tunes, but with every play through, he managed to guess more and more notes until he could almost play them properly. To be honest, there hadn't been much time to learn them, and their show music was far more important, in Gareth's eyes.

The sun, thinking it not cruel enough for Adonis to march in full uniform in its already 31 degrees centigrade of muggy, British heat, decided to remove the clouds from its vicinity with a quiver of ultraviolet light. The temperature blazed even further and it was evident that they were burning up, not least from the smell of synthetic material which wafted the air in between patches of salty sweat.

Just as Gareth felt ready to give up the ghost, Mandy sprayed a bottle of liquid joy in his face. Heavenly and refreshing, the spray bottle of water bathed Gareth's face in glorious moisture until it was quickly replaced by the dripping forehead sweat from beneath his roasting shako.

Then the sound of brass blazing in unison sung down the street ahead of them, to their right. This had to be it, this had to be where The Falcons had hidden themselves.

Blinking away the increasing volume of sweat from his eyes, the stinging sensation staying, Gareth's vision focused in between the drummers ahead of him. The curved block of The Falcons emerged, big, bold and black in their uniforms.

'Corps mark time!' Chase called.

They did so, coming to a halt, but keeping their heels and toes moving in the same spot where they stood. This gave The Falcons ample time to cut them off, bringing with them a further three "floats" of kids which had started at another end of the tillage.

Great, Gareth thought, we've put all this effort in and now Daz is gonna steal our thunder.

'What do they think they're doing?' Gareth heard Nathan angrily say to himself, in front of him.

Indeed, it seemed insulting that they were even here, at all. It was as if the Sandy town council had no faith in their own home drum and bugle corps, instead opting for what was deemed as the "best of DCUK", as a precaution.

Knowing that Darren was somewhere in that big block made Gareth envious and yet very angry. How dare he get himself involved!

When the lorries had finally lined themselves up, in front, The Falcons proceeded to lead the rest of the parade. This made Chase furious.

'Heads are gonna roll,' Chase spat, waltzing somewhere in front of them and past the floats.

They continued marching forward in this gauntlet of agony, puppeteered by The Falcons. They were able to do nothing else but stay in time to their enemy's own home cooked tunes, none of which Gareth recognised.

Eventually, Chase returned to Gareth's peripheral vision, even more wound up than before.

'We play on. Our trump card. Adonis, if you will!' Chase commanded.

Cindy banged her bass drum to her own beat, this time, and Gareth flicked his horn up in conjunction with Chase's defiance. There was one particular tune Chase had been saving for when they reached nearer the parade's destination - their "trump card" for when the crowds grew bored of their other tunes. Adonis were going to play whether The Falcons liked it or not!

Do the Hustle blared out, proudly, causing the nearby crowds to cheer them on.

'Screw marching, we're gonna boogie it,' Chase smirked, maliciously.

And so they did.

Gareth, along with the rest of Adonis, jigged along the streets to no particular marching tempo, and played in time with themselves. The snare drummers waved their drum sticks in the air, evidently enjoying themselves, despite the unbearable heat.

'Knock it off!' came a loud voice of a black uniformed man. It was the same guy from the Leicester show, who had been with Darren.

'Force us,' Chase sneered.

'Show some respect, we're playing up there!'

Chase furrowed his brow.

'Respect? Respect!? You force yourselves onto our "insignificant town", crash the party and endeavour to make a fool out of Adonis... and expect us to respect you? I have only one phrase to sing to the likes of you,' Chase retorted with a growing sneer. 'You lip it, you lap it!'

Gareth, Ealga, and several others cheered at that, forcing The Falcons' corps director to trudge off to the front, fuming.

Then, somewhere near the front, the volume of The Falcons' parade music increased to fortissimo. Chase licked his lips in anticipation for a fight.

'You heard them, Adonis, let's show them war!'

Adonis then upped their volume to as loud as Gareth could possibly play. This continued all the way until they finally reached their final destination; the school grounds of Sandy Place Academy, which was once a public middle school and now too pretentious to even be that, anymore. The school fields were large enough to accommodate the rolling floats and the two marching bands as they all halted in a victorious cacophony. Lorry horns blared and people clapped, ready for the carnival part of the parade to start.

Gareth smiled as he finally ejected the shako from his head. A torrent of sweat smothered his vision, causing him to wipe his white sleeve over his face. Placing his trumpet on the grass, Gareth could feel how soothingly cool their stems were in comparison to the moist air. Wasting no time, he collapsed backwards onto the cooling bed of blades.

'Whilst you're down there, polish my shoes, sweetheart,' Stefan chuckled.

'As long as you don't ask me to anything else,' Gareth raised an eyebrow.

'I'm gender fluid, not... oh, nevermind. Let's just enjoy the only thing worth going on, here - the "Rock On" swirler.'

The "Rock On" swirler was pretty rubbish, as Gareth found out, sending a group of ten people in a spin for about three minutes, rising and lowering to some music. It was hardly worth getting excited for and Gareth soon found himself bored, next to the super excited Nathan and high-pitched squealing Stefan.

It was only when they left the ride that anything exciting happened - Darren found them.

'Oi, oi, wot's this? Three tw-'

'Shut it, Daz,' Gareth snapped.

'I think you need ter learn some manners. Did ya forget what I did last time? Do ya want it ter happen again, mate?'

'Back off, it's a family carnival,' Nathan piped up.

'Traitors, the both of ya,' Darren snorted.

Stefan eyed Darren with ferocity, causing Darren to snigger. Darren wasn't any old fool, though, and after a quick glance of the surroundings full of children, parents and rides, he opted for a retreat.

'Lucky for you lot, I've got other things to do, ennit. Besides, the best surprise is still ter come.'

With that, Darren strutted off, ready to prepare for an afternoon performance, of which Adonis were also due. Gareth watched on, feeling that Darren would turn around at any minute and hit Gareth, should he take his eyes off of him. However, someone else caught Gareth's attention, and he found his eyes magnetised to the new figure, who stood around the marked out field of ribbon for the band's afternoon performance.

The bearded, pudgy man stared intently at Gareth within the gathering crowd of spectators. For a moment, Gareth felt he recognised the scruffy man in jeans, but before he could grab a closer look, the man turned and dissolved into the crowd behind him.

'We are due on, shortly. Our instruments await us,' Stefan announced.

Except, when the trio returned to their line of instruments, Mandy was waiting for them.

'I've got some bad news on this lovely, lovely day,' Mandy announced, 'in that we've been replaced by The Falcons for the afternoon.'

'What?' Gareth replied.

'It's true. They've given us the shaft. Apparently we're still getting paid though, so it's not all a waste of time,' Elisa overheard, wheeling herself towards them.

'On the bright side of things, at least we didn't unload the truck, my strawberries,' Mandy smiled.

'Where is the truck, anyway?' Nathan asked, looking about the field.

'We left it at Engayne Avenue. I'm sure that's where Chase has disappeared to, right now,' Stefan concluded.

'Is that why he's now jogging this way?' Gareth replied.

Chase bounded to Mandy, an expression of pure fear in his eyes. Gareth had never seen Chase look so spooked, before.

'The vehicle has dissipated into the ethers of Sandy's bile and sludge. Vanished. Lost,' Chase rapidly explained.

Gareth's insides froze.

'Come on, where did you park it? Think,' Mandy asked.

'Outside the upper school. The Falcons' truck remains. Our truck is...' Chase trailed off into nothing, before screaming angrily into the air, 'missing!'