Track One
“I will introduce you to the four who I told you about earlier Carol,” said Mrs Chew, with jauntiness in her voice. The pair walked into the warm recreation room and over to four elderly men sat in armchairs, in front of a shiny polished black Steinway.
The men stopped chatting and looked up at the women.
“Good morning, this is Carol, she has come for an interview for the nursing sister managers position for our new nursing home section,” said Mrs Chew.
Carol smiled and then furrowed her brow when she smelt an unpleasant aroma lingering around the four.
“Good morning Carol, I am Charles and delighted to meet you,” said Charles in his articulate English tone and he smirked when he saw the blond-haired woman smiling through a grimace.
“Hello Charles, it’s lovely to meet you too,” said Carol, thinking Charles reminded her of her grandfather in his smart shirt, tie, and cardigan.
Charles smiled and nodded at Carol.
“You look too pretty and young to be looking after old farts,” said a scrawny looking wrinkled geriatric who looked only slightly more alive than Keith Richards. “I can’t see a wedding ring, are you married?” he said, and leered at Carol who blushed.
“That’s John,” said Mrs Chew.
“It’s Boomer you old bat,” snapped John Varley.
Mrs Chew smirked as Boomer glared at her, knowing he hated anyone calling him John.
Carol looked at the scruffy old obnoxious man dressed in a tatty old stained ACDC T-shirt and grimy jeans. She thought Boomer’s face looked like an anaemic prune and he had a bald scalp with long greasy grey hair around the back and sides. She smiled, shook her head, and said. “No Boomer, I am not married, but I live with my partner in London.”
“Partner, does that mean a woman… are you a Lezzie?”
Carol giggled. “No Boomer, he is my boyfriend.”
“Huh, why didn’t you just say boyfriend then?”
“Allo Carol, I’m Elvin,” said a small elderly man as bald as a bell end, in a chirpy cockney accent. “I’m from the old smoke too, what part of London are you from?”
Carol smiled. “Hello Elvin, I’m not from London, I am from Chelmsford, but I went to London University and have been living and working in Whitechapel for several years,” she said, trying not to stare at Elvin’s digitally challenged hands.
“Ignore Boomer Carol, he is an acquired taste,” smiled a younger looking man with Latino looks and jet black hair. “Hi, I’m Wayne and originally from Canada, but I have lived in England for many years.”
“Yeah, because they don’t sell grecian2000 in Canada,” whispered Boomer, and chortled quietly so Wayne wouldn’t hear him, even with his new hearing aid, which Wayne hadn’t yet figured out how to use properly.
“Hi Wayne,” Carol said, and smiled at the four. “It’s lovely to meet you all, Mrs Chew told me you are all retired musicians, do you still perform?”
Charles smirked. “Oh no my dear, but we still practice sometimes and perform the occasional recital for the other residents, but nothing too strenuous,” he nodded toward his piano.
“We’re too old to be rockers,” said Elvin, and smirked.
“Speak for yourself baldy. You know we still belt out some great tunes,” said the brash Boomer and, being glared at by the other three, looked chastised and sheepish.
“Okay Carol, now you have met these and most of the other residents, let’s go to my office and finalise the details.”
Carol nodded, and the pair walked out of the rec room and over to Mrs Chew’s office on the ground floor of the residence. They walked past several other elderly residents she had met earlier, still sitting on wooden benches in the well-kept grounds of Fossdyke residential home, enjoying the sunshine on a beautiful summer’s day. Carol inhaled the sweet floral fragrances drifting on the soft summer breeze and removing the stench surrounding the four musicians from her nostrils.
“Charles, Wayne, Elvin, and Boomer are interesting characters,” said Carol, “but there was a strange smell. Does one of them have a bowel problem?”
Mrs Chew shook her head and said. “One of them did, but he passed away several years ago and the four blame the ripe smell on his ghost. The old guys call it Steve’s revenge,” she then chuckled. “Don’t worry; the contractors’ said it’s either a small blockage or crack in an old terracotta sewer pipe running under the floor beneath Charles’s piano. Since the smell quickly cleared and the rare times it happened was always after meal times, the contractor said that it wasn’t worth the upheaval of digging it up.”
Mrs Chew glanced at Carol as they walked. “Have you heard of Kipper?”
Carol raised her eyebrows and said. “Yes, who hasn’t; I am a big fan!”
Mrs Chew, grinning at Carol looking excited, thought. ‘She looks a bit old to be a star-struck teenager,’ and she asked. “Did you know he is from Cleethorpes?”
“No… really!” gasped Carol. “Hope is my favourite album, I bought it years ago, and I still love it. Have you ever met him, Mrs Chew?”
Mrs Chew nodded. “Oh yes, he visits here often when he comes to Cleethorpes to see the four you just met, they are great friends.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Carol. “Perhaps I will get to meet him if I get the job.”
They went into Mrs Chew’s plush office and Carol sat down. Mrs Chew sat behind her desk and again picked up Ms Carol Jenkins Curriculum Vitae. She glanced at her certificates in nursing and elderly care management, impressed by her qualifications and university degrees. However, Mrs Chew couldn’t understand why Carol wanted to come from a high-class London nursing care home to a small seaside town like Cleethorpes and Carol had been vague when she’d asked her.
“Do the residents go to the local Pub I passed coming here? It was close by and looked very impressive with the nicest beer garden I have seen, you don’t get that standard in London anymore.”
Chewy looked up from the paperwork and said. “Yes, Baker Street is a lovely pub, but only a few of the residents go there. Cosmo, the landlord, is a friend of Lucy Fossdyke the owner here, and he comes here on occasions to visit the musicians,” Mrs Chew grinned. “That’s when he’s not gallivanting around the world on holiday looking for birds. He is in the Philippines at the moment.”
‘Cosmo, she must be referring to David Corrigan who came to London with Lucy Fossdyke before,’ thought Carol, who smiled and asked. “Does Mrs Fossdyke come here often?”
Mrs Chew shook her head. “Not so much nowadays. Doctor Fossdyke has a busy Medical Centre in Hull and barely gets the time. It was her late father, Steve, who passed away and I still think she has painful memories.”
Carol smiled. “Well, I certainly like Fossdyke and the residents, I hope you will consider me for the position, I am sure I will be an invaluable employee.”
Mrs Chew again glanced at Carols C.V. and nodded.
“This is impressive, but I will need to contact your current employer. The Care Home Manager who gave you a glowing reference, I imagine she will be sad to see you go,” said Mrs Chew, picking up the reference letter from Hawthorn Green residential nursing home and sanctuary care, in Whitechapel, London. “I will call her and…”
She stopped mid-sentence as the noise of a car driving along the gravel path and screeching to a halt outside the recreation room disturbed her. Mrs Chew smiled as she looked out of the window.
“Oh, Kipper’s here, I see he bought another new sports car,” she said as Kipper got out of his gleaming red Tesla Roadster, waved at Mrs Chew at the office window, and walked into the recreation room.
Mrs Chew waved back and smiled, she then looked at Carol. “Would you like to go back to the recreation room and meet him, he will be visiting the Fos.. err, his old friends.”
Carol smirked and then looking nervous, gasped, and stammered. “No thanks, but maybe next time, if I am lucky enough to get the job. I won’t take up any more of your time, Mrs Chew. Please call me if I am suitable for the position. I must leave now, so I can be back in London before the rush hour traffic. It was a pleasure to meet you and some of the residents.”
Carol extended her hand and, after shaking Mrs Chew’s, she rushed out of the office, strode towards her car in the small Fossdyke car park, and drove off.
Mrs Chew furrowed her brow and then smiled and thought. ‘Meeting Kipper must have overawed her, she must be a love-struck, thirty-something-year-old… mind you, she doesn’t look much older than him. Who knows, perhaps when she and Kipper meet it will be love at first sight. He needs a good woman to look after him and who better than a nursing sister, and she seems like a very nice lady. Maybe I can be a new Cilla Black.’ She giggled and impersonating Cilla, said. “Do I need to buy a new hat for Kipper and Carol’s wedding, chuck?’’ Mrs Chew sniggered, and picked up Carol’s reference letter from Jane Sinclair, the Care Homes Manager at Hawthorn Green, she dialled the phone number on the letter and spoke to Jane.
“Thanks Mrs Sinclair, I will,” said Mrs Chew, before hanging up.
‘Jane Sinclair sounded like a school principal, very disciplined… perhaps I should change my tone and instil dread into that lot,’ thought Mrs Chew, who chuckled and said. “Varley, you scruffy little Oike, wash that filthy T-shirt, immediately!”
Still chuckling, she sat back in the chair and looked at Carol Jenkins documents again. Chewy knew she had a hard decision to make, that would be a quandary for the old remaining Fossils, and Kipper, especially now, but she needed an assistant. Chewy’s workload had increased since Lucy added a new wing to Fossdyke and made it with Nursing Home facilities. Mrs Chew had no nursing qualifications and before they could operate as a Nursing Home, they needed qualified nursing staff and knew that Carol was the best candidate she’d interviewed for running a nursing team.
Carol’s heart raced as she drove along the Cleethorpes beach road. She stopped in the Market Place, parked her 2017 Volkswagen Passat, turned off the engine, and breathed a sigh of relief. She felt exhilarated as she reset her GPS for the return journey to London and looked out of the windscreen at a small fish and chip restaurant nearby. ‘I suppose I better try the greasy offerings they rave about up here,’ she thought, and grimaced at the thought of having to spend time at this crappy northern seaside town. “I better call Billy and let him know that everything went as planned,” she said aloud, took her smartphone from her handbag, turned it on, and dialled Billy Numan’s number.
“Hi Susan,” answered an anxious-sounding Billy Numan. “How did it go? Was it them?”
Susan McHale smirked. “Yes, I met Nobby, Chippers, and Sticks, but they have a new member who calls himself Boomer, he must be replacing Strat. He’s a horrible little man. I wanted to iron the wrinkles out of his face with a hot steam iron.”
Billy chuckled. “All in good time, once we have our revenge on Nutley, we can sort out the other stuff; so they believed you were Carol Jenkins, a qualified geriatric nursing sister?”
Susan sighed. “Yes, Mrs Chew, the manager of the home, believed my phoney C.V. and qualification certificates, she swallowed my story hook line and sinker. She was calling Jane at Hawthorn when I left Fossdyke.”
She heard Billy laugh as he reassured her. “Don’t worry, Jane is expecting her call, and we know she will convince her. She is a good friend as well as my sister- in- law and understands what we are doing will expose the lying deceitful Kipper so we can be vindicated, clear our names, and return to our high life… with millions of pounds of compensation.”
“I suppose so, but we have a few unforeseen obstacles to contend with,” said Susan sounding wistful.
“Oh yes,” said Billy, hearing the concern in Susan’s voice, “and what might they be?”
Susan had a quake in her voice as she told Billy. “Kipper turned up while I was there and Mrs Chew said he comes to see them when he was in town. Mrs Chew said Lucy rarely visited, but told me Corrigan came occasionally, and all three know me. Although she said Corrigan was on holiday but didn’t say when he would be back.”
“Did Kipper see you?” asked Billy, sounding alarmed.
“No, I don’t think so; he went into another building to see the four, so I got out of there quick.”
The phone went silent while Billy gathered his thoughts and then said. “I knew Nutley would be going there more often now to get his material for the new album but I didn’t know when, but that won’t be a problem. I still have contacts within his management agency, so. I will just pay them a little extra to tell me every time he is due to leave London. That will give you plenty of time to arrange something to keep out of sight. This Corrigan character, however, will pose a problem which we need to overcome beforehand… assuming you get the job.”
“Oh,” said Susan, sounding confident. “If Jane plays her part, I am certain I have it.”
“Great, well done Susan, I will chill some Chardonnay for when you get home and we can talk more when you arrive. We can have an early night; we have a lot of planning still to do… I will call Ollie Smith and let him know.”
“Okay darling, I am grabbing a bite to eat first before I set off. I will see you at home in about five hours if the traffic isn’t bad.”
The pair hung up and Susan smiled as she walked into Steel’s Restaurant and ordered from the ‘a la carte menu’ painted on the greasy wall above the deep-fat fryer: Haddock, chips, and mushy peas.
Billy smirked, sat back in his chair and thought. ‘You should have stuck to being a DJ and you are making a big mistake doing a new album Nutley. You have no talent, but we know who does… and now we know where you go to get it. We will get evidence to expose you as the fraudster you are. The world will know I was right all those years ago and you are a talentless shyster. We will be back at the top where we belong.’
Billy’s intercom then buzzed and an abrupt sounding man ordered. “Numan, fetch me a Cappuccino and a Bagel.”
