Silver Ch. 06-09

Jan had always assumed that it was some lad at university or a boyfriend in Liverpool. Then it dawned on her, Kelly's birthday being so close to Debra's, her mouth forming an 'O' like she'd just swallowed a hot chilli. In the study they heard a commotion but thought nothing of it.

* * *

As the three band members rued the lack of a leader, suddenly a knock at the door animated Kirk, lifting back the curtains with a triumphant call. Richey ambled in as if nothing was amiss, wearing a spangly white shirt that didn't suit him. The height of summer, a chilly atmosphere pervaded as the frontman prompted: 'Well, what are we waiting for? We've a gig to get to, haven't we?'

Nick frowned but said nothing, not wishing to risk tipping the seesaw balance, a rarefied atmosphere prevailing throughout the journey. Time only for the briefest of sound checks, they were due up second. Despatched to the back room of the pub with their fellow competitors, they stood like boys and girls at a fourth form disco, each band holding rigidly to its own space. Nick and Kirk flexed their fingers in readiness whilst Vaughn half smoked fags and ground the butts nervously into the ashtray and Richey went as white as his shirt. All around, signed posters of the bands that had played at the pub over the years, from the Kinks to Culture Club, illustrated the rich heritage in which they were following. Vaughn summed up everyone's feelings when he exclaimed: 'This is fucking terrifying.'

The clock's hands crept round to 8.30 and the first band was summoned. With Vaughn having weeded out most of the serious opposition, the rat-faced trio in tight-fitting charcoal grey shirts and suits and slim red ties seemed to offer little competition. More feedback than melody, the Jam parodists returned twenty minutes later, already looking resigned to their fate. Sportingly the other bands offered congratulatory invectives to disperse their own fears.

As Vaughn moved ahead to assemble the drum kit, Nick and Kirk set up front of stage the stage, acknowledging the girls who'd taken up position near the front. Satisfied everything was in full working order, they returned to the back room for a final swig of beer.

The call came and Richey led the way, clinging to his acoustic guitar like a baby to a comfort blanket. Vaughn cracked together his drumsticks in a nervy click-click and Nick whilst Kirk gingerly fingered their plectrums. It was at that moment, as they stood on the verge of greatness, that Richey saw fit to make the revelation: 'Err lads...I've not mentioned this in the past, but I...I kind of suffer from stage fright and get the odd panic attack from time to time...'

Nick's eyes widened. Only now did he truly understand the claustrophobic lyrics of 'No Place To Hide'. Before he'd imagined it was about the fear of drowning, but drowning was merely a metaphor for what Richey felt in front of an audience.

The blinding light of the stage hit their eyes, beyond which hung the dark veil of the pub. It was scary enough for Nick going out there, so just how Richey felt he couldn't begin to comprehend. The silhouettes of sixty or so punters were spread over the floor, among which the four girls and a few nodding acquaintances could be made out. From the sidelines, Joe Donnelly offered a hand of encouragement, a special smile for Nick, bringing welcome relief. Nonetheless this was the most frightening thing ever.

No time to dwell, Richey issued the trademark laugh that opened 'The Outsider' and they were away, Nick instinctively strumming the opening bars with tremulous fingers. The singer's voice wavered through the first verse as he fought to keep on top of things, but the arrival of the chorus boosted his confidence and a willing couple at the front started to pogo, raising a nervy smile from the singer.

Richey managed to hold it together, grasping hold of the words like a crutch, no time for breath as the final chords of 'The Outsider' melded into the opening ones of 'Machines'. Lacking the clever hooks of its predecessor, nonetheless they gave the song their all to raise it above the mundane. Richey allowed a brief moment to soak up the warm applause, his cheeks inflated, sweat cascading down his brow, before the new breakneck versions of 'Dark Secret' and 'Brainstorm' caught the fans at the front on the hop. As he honed in on Jan, bopping at the front, Richey sang the line from 'Brainstorm' with added venom: 'You got my head spinning, but you don't give a damn...'

'Edge Of Town' followed, Nick's glorious intro building to the crescendo that prompted Richey's frenetic cry. Five minutes later they received a well-earned applause, the relative calm of 'When The Lights Fade' allowing the audience an opportunity to draw breath.

An elongated pause from the singer suggested something was wrong. 'Forever Nineteen' was supposed to be next, the penultimate song. 'I've forgotten the words,' confessed the hyperventilating frontman in a whispered exchange. 'I'm sorry Nick, move on.'

Cursing, Nick launched into the intro of 'No Place To Hide', Richey singing from the depths of his heart about his affliction. A heart-rending rendition, whether it had saved them was debatable. Worse news was to follow. 'We're three minutes short,' imparted Kirk unsurprisingly.

They couldn't leave it there or surely the contest really was lost. Suddenly Nick had an idea, strumming furiously the intro to the Thunder Cracks' 'Bullet Brigade'. He was aware of Richey's feelings on cover versions but frankly he didn't care. They were on the verge of obscurity. Richey grimaced but went along with it, launching into the song with a gusto he had dragged up from somewhere hidden. The effect was to cause the pub to erupt. It was to be their making.

Bowing graciously, they left the stage, the singer's legs so hollow he had to be supported between the brothers. Ted Perry offered a pat on the shoulder each and Joe Donnelly issued Nick a thumbs-up. In the back room, the other bands were heard to be busily discussing adding a Thunder Cracks' cover to their sets but, like the first band, they were already resigned to their fate.

A post-gig joint was passed around, all four drawing on it like an oxygen tank at altitude as they came down off the exalted high of the performance. Moving away from the assembly, blowing heavily and shaking, Richey whispered to Tony Cage: 'Got anything stronger, mate?'

Returning several minutes later, Richey was wide-eyed yet seemingly free from the pain. The others looked on but kept their thoughts to themselves. None had to deal with hat Richey had just been through.

When the inevitable announcement of their triumph was made, Vaughn summed things up in his inimitable way: 'Fucking brilliant!'

The girls came through in the back room and when they'd drained the free crate of beer thrown in as part of the prize, it was off back to Nick's flat to party hard, his birthday having taken backstage up to that point. Squeezing Jan tightly, they embraced unashamedly. He wasn't going to forget this birthday in a long while.

The fridge at his flat emptied of beer, the pairing-off began in earnest. So drunk was everyone that nobody knew or seemed to care who ended up with who. Nick and Jan's match already pre-ordained, for the other sextet things were less black and white and, in some cases, very colourful indeed.

Liz's recollection was the most disjointed. Even in the immediate aftermath, she could piece together little of the jigsaw. Kirk boasted of bedding both her and Susie, though Susie was quick to issue a denial. Vaughn too spent time with Liz that night, though recollection of the liaison was equally as hazy. And she'd entertained Richey as well in the early hours, after his agonising with Cass came to nothing. It was a night that would have long term ramifications.

With the girls' impending return to university, they could get back to being a band once more, free from female distraction. No longer burdened with daytime jobs, rehearsal went into overdrive during the three-week hiatus between the Battle of the Bands and the start of the tour. Tweaking with and reworking the set, a couple of new numbers, 'Elastic Band' and 'Cardboard Cut-outs', were brought in to make up a thirty-minute set that was ample for the support slot.

Having checked the tour itinerary, Nick established that they were due to play a gig in Newcastle-upon-Tyne in late October, probably the next opportunity to see Jan. In the meantime the couple kept in daily contact via the telephone. Despite the logistics involved in conducting a long distance relationship, she seemed as keen as he was to keep things going. The claim that she could hardly wait for Newcastle gave him a rosy glow of assurance and a much-needed boost.

Due to be on the road throughout the autumn, Nick stocked up on essentials: two new pairs of jeans, one blue, one black, a pair of DM's, a dozen t-shirts, sufficient underwear and enough magazines and books to occupy the time in between gigs. It was going to be some adventure.

The Thunder Cracks' tour bus was a silver warehouse on wheels, a road hog with blacked-out windows to keep the outside world at bay, housing twenty-four band members, crew, and management. 'Where's Kirk?' enquired Richey as they waited to board.

Vaughn pointed over the road to where his younger brother stood addressing a woman and child. 'She's pleaded with him to stay and make a go of being a father,' Vaughn stated gravely.

'He won't, will he?' Nick entreated. 'Not after all we've been through to get this far.'

Nick thought of his own, not dissimilar situation. What would he do if given an ultimatum?

'I wouldn't be so sure,' Vaughn replied.

'Kirk, come on,' shouted Richey.

Kirk looked from the pair that held his attention to the trio that waited expectantly.

'Are you lot coming?' enquired Ted.

There were tears in Kirk's eyes as he ruffled little Pete's hair. 'Sorry Sandra, sorry Pete,' he mouthed, turning away and walking into the outstretched arms of his bandmates.

The Speeding Hearts was the only family he needed now.

Like a surreal dream that none of the quartet could have dreamed of six months earlier, the other three adapted quickly to the rockstar lifestyle of days catching short bouts of sleep, nights performing then partying to the early hours and beyond. Nick, however, was less easily seduced. The partying he could manage to an extent, the drugs he could take or leave; it was the practical jokes and tomfoolery that were harder to take. A little too serious for his own good, quickly he came to inhabit the fringes. Thankfully, Joe Donnelly's 'older brother' act and the gigs helped to pull him through for the first fortnight.

Ten gigs clocked up before they reached Manchester, the tour was forced to take a short break as the Thunder Cracks headed to the studio to record their first major label single. Expectation was high and that could only be good for the Speeding Hearts with the fringe benefits of association and all the free publicity. Ted had a welcome surprise up his crepe sleeves for the four understudies. With interest building in the press and a small fan base having emerged, the Speeding Hearts would be headlining a couple of venues. 'Top of the fucking bill!' cried Vaughn, as ever encapsulating the moment perfectly.

A reporter from the NME turned up at the first Manchester gig, among an appreciative crowd of around 300, resulting in a favourable albeit brief mention in the music paper the following week. Richey's affliction having seemingly been kept in check up to that point, Nick had a feeling it couldn't last indefinitely and he was right. No longer able to ride upon the Thunder Cracks' coat tails, the strain began to tell and, halfway through Ted had to inject the nervy singer just to get him back onstage. Touch and go whether he'd make it through, thankfully at the end, 'No Place To Hide' was the carrot on the stick for Richey. A similar story before the second Manchester gig, the singer was found cowering in the corner of the dressing room, a pick-me-up needed to entice him out.

Better news was to follow though as 1982 moved towards winter and things moved on apace. A demo submitted by Ted to a few contacts had resulted in an offer from Rage Records, the same indie label in Reading that had released the Thunder Cracks' first two singles. 'Though you may want to wait until something better comes along...' Ted added.

'No way,' they countered in unison. 'Let's get a record out.'

Even if only a handful of copies were pressed, having a single released meant everything to them as a band. It was the chance to put down the old favourites they'd been playing for a year for posterity before moving on. Once more Vaughn summed things up: 'We are going to be Number One!'

As the days on the road turned to months, Nick continued in daily telephone contact with Jan, though prolonged lack of intimacy had become a real problem. Secretly, or occasionally if Joe Donnelly caught him on a downer, he bemoaned the timing and the fact that if either Jan or the band had come along at any other point in his life, he wouldn't be facing a dilemma similar to Kirk's. But whilst Kirk had been quick to desert a shot at conformity, the jury was still out on Nick and Newcastle couldn't come quickly enough.

With Nick barely inside the door of Jan's digs, they tore at another's clothes like children at their Christmas presents. Incarcerated in the bedroom for the duration, it was only the dawning of the gig that broke up the happy union. A hard parting, they made plans for when the tour was over.

Back in the support slot, Richey's confidence returned and they continued to pick up plaudits. Onto Glasgow and then finally Edinburgh, the tour turned around and headed back to London. The Sheffield gig sparked a massive after show party, surpassing all others thus far, to mark the Thunder Cracks' third single 'Ticking Bomb' crashing into the Top Thirty. The place was abuzz with press, promoters and agents, all craving a piece of the main band. Overnight, the headliners had become too big for the mid capacity venues prescribed at the start of the tour. Their own profile having risen and the Rage deal signed and sealed, the Speeding Hearts finished off the last few dates alone.

No time to catch their breath, they were straight to the studio in Reading to lay down a handful of songs for Rage, the first release being 'The Outsider', with 'Forever Nineteen' on the flipside and showcasing Nick's writing skills. A surprise that Richey didn't insist upon one of his songs setting things off, the frontman was no fool. Safe in the knowledge that only a thousand or so copies at most would be pressed, Richey was happy to hold back one of his songs for the inevitable breakthrough. Nick, on the other hand, was overjoyed just to hear his song on the radio and, sure enough, John Peel obliged within days of its release, a landmark moment in Nick's life. 'Top of the Pops, here we come,' lauded Vaughn.

Gaining almost unanimously favourable reviews, the single peaked at a respectable 48 in the Charts, not quite the number one Vaughn had predicted but not bad for a debut. No Top of the Pops either, the single did nonetheless prompt twice as many copies as had been envisaged to be pressed and, for a few weeks, they were the darlings of the music press and everyone's favourite new band. Ted came back with more good news: six headlining gigs had been set up in London to see them through the winter. Sadly for Nick though, the fevered rehearsal that followed would allow no time for Jan and he to meet. Separated by the length of the country and their own aspirations, Nick promised faithfully they would get together at Christmas.

Halfway through the London gigs, a second single, Richey's 'No Place To Hide' with 'Machines' on the flipside was released. Buoyed by the success of 'The Outsider', expectations were high and a Top Forty place was predicted in some quarters. Yet for some reason it shifted less than half of the hopeful pressing by Rage, stopping at 64. As a knock-on effect, the disappointment spilled over into the gigs, where once more Richey's pep had become a pre-requisite.

Not that they were totally without their suitors. Indeed, A&R men from the indies and majors regularly skirted the gigs but, for some reason they seemed to be unsure whether to take a chance on this talented yet potentially volatile band. Sitting down in private to contemplate, Nick developed a theory that, playing the same songs in virtually the same order, night after night, they had failed to move on. It had reached the point where performing had almost become a chore. Only 'The Outsider' and 'Edge Of Town' inspired Nick, whereas Richey had grown to loathe those songs. In retaliation, Nick had come to despise the self-absorbed 'No Place To Hide' that was Richey's rock.

Thus, unlike their mentors the Thunder Cracks who had graduated to major label success by the time of their third single, the Speeding Hearts' third release, 'When The Lights Fade', remained on the indie label Rage. As stale as a week old loaf of bread, the single was doomed to failure as everyone's favourite new band of the autumn soon became just another faceless new wave act. In a desperate effort to give the new release some impetus, live versions of 'No Place To Hide' and 'Edge Of Town' were put on the flipside, but to no effect as it scraped in at 73 and quickly plummeted out.

With an incredible 1982 that no one could have envisaged nearing its end, it was time to up the ante. New songs or new blood were needed if the Speeding Hearts were to make further progress. Both arrived, but only after the bombshell dropped.

Nine

It was as he sat alone in the flat in Crossbow Hill one morning in January 1983, with the London gigs almost completed and no word on where they would be heading next, that Nick Silver's life took a sharp and unexpected turn.

The ringing of the telephone caused his pulse to race, finally bringing an end to the tedium. Really he should be enjoying not having to work but, with the insurance money evaporating and his music career hardly paying its way, it was not as if he could enjoy the free time. Virtually housebound, the only relief came from rehearsing and the hope that he or Richey might stumble upon a new classic. So far, neither had added to the fertile crop of the first year.

Thus, Jan's daily phone call was like a message in a bottle to a castaway, her words savoured and every inflection in her voice treasured. This time though something was different, the initial relief quickly extinguished as she began to blubber uncontrollably. The first time he'd heard her cry, it was a horrible, strangled sound, far removed from the joyful adolescent he'd come to rely upon. Desperately trying to calm her, saying nothing could be that bad, he struggled to control his own emotion. Through muffled sobs she tried to speak, stuttering over the words and when finally she managed to make some modicum of sense through the tears, the disclosure of her pregnancy arrived like an unseen left hook.

Catching the first train to Durham, Nick abandoned the band without a second thought. The London gigs still to be completed, thankfully they were able to fulfil their obligations with Tony Cage of the Thunder Cracks deputising on lead guitar. The journey passed in a whirl as Nick's brain was bombarded with the darkest thoughts. In an unforeseen moment everything had been turned on its head. 1983 had promised rock stardom, not fatherhood.

Chastising his selfishness, Nick tried to put the situation into perspective, to be more appreciative of Jan's position above his own. Much to consider, did she want to keep the baby? Young, bright and intelligent with a whole life ahead of her, children would have featured in her plans of their future life together – though years down the line. So, assuming she chose to keep the baby, the big question was: could he remain in the band? It wouldn't be easy with endless touring and hours in the studio making time at home sparing, though it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility. Other musicians seemed to be able to balance parenthood and performing. Could Nick Silver?