She was the oldest person in Sneaky Pete’s by forty years. It was a tiny dive venue on Cowgate full of kids and, Dorothy was glad to see, a large percentage of young women, no doubt because of the bill. The audience were dressed the same as indie kids through the ages, DIY jackets and tops, mismatched trousers and bright boots.
Dorothy sipped her whisky and looked round. It wasn’t much bigger than her kitchen, scruffy bar to one side with beautiful hipster bar staff. She was between an exposed brick pillar and the mixing desk, which was just a tattooed woman with a laptop on a stand. Two walls were covered in black-and-white murals, one saying ‘Dance Yrself Clean’ in huge letters, which Dorothy was pleased she recognised as an LCD Soundsystem song title. Having young drum students pass through her house for the last forty years had some advantages, she was a million times more up to date with music than others her age.
Abi’s band were on stage making a messy racket. The Blood Queens had a whiff of riot grrrl about them, Abi on drums, token bloke Taylor on bass and Kazuko shredding her Fender Telecaster and screaming into the mic. Abi had told Dorothy that Kazuko’s name meant ‘peaceful child’ in her parents’ native Japanese, an aspiration she’d never lived up to.
Dorothy had encouraged Abi to form a band, there was only so much you could learn in lessons. At some point you needed to take the plunge and start making a noise with your friends, otherwise what was the point? Writing your own songs, even the drum parts, was a totally different skill set to playing along to your favourite music. It was creative and communal, the essence of life as far as Dorothy was concerned.
Kazuko finished a song with an atonal solo and shriek and the crowd were appreciative. This was great experience for the band. They were first on a three-band bill, the other two a touring pair, Alex Lahey from Australia and The Regrettes, bubblegum rock from LA. Like the audience it was mostly women on stage tonight.
Abi counted in the next song, a heads-down punky number, three chords and loads of attitude. She was having the time of her life, dirty-blonde hair flying, grin on her face as she locked into the groove with Taylor. She was fifteen, a year younger than the other two in the band, and she’d been living with Dorothy for a year. She’d gone missing before that, and Dorothy found her using basic detective skills, but that opened a can of worms about her real family which led to a massive falling-out with her mum. So Abi became another of Dorothy’s adopted castaways, part of the extended family she accumulated as she got older. Dorothy knew others of her age whose lives were getting smaller, narrowing towards death, but she was the opposite, joyous at being surrounded. Besides, these people needed her, needed the solidity and love she provided.
The band stumbled on to a monumental riff and sat in it for a long time. They realised they had something, knew to milk it. Dorothy had heard it coming from upstairs in the house plenty of times. Abi doubled the drumming, built to the end, then she and Taylor walked off, Kazuko drawing feedback from her amp then throwing her guitar down and joining them.
The response was great, nods and positive chatter from the kids in front of Dorothy. She felt proud. Brittany Howard started over the PA and Abi and the others got back on stage to pack up their gear. Dorothy was technically their roadie, she’d driven their gear down in the back of the body van.
She finished her whisky and placed the plastic glass on the bar. She noticed someone near the toilets, a lot older than everyone else. He didn’t fit, late fifties, M&S shirt, beige slacks, thick body and the face of a long-time drunk.
‘Hey.’
She turned as Abi bounded up and gave her a hug. ‘What did you think?’
Dorothy sometimes forgot Abi was still just a kid. She switched awkwardly between child and adult in her demeanour, such is life for a teenager. Now she seemed like a bouncing puppy.
‘Amazing,’ Dorothy said. ‘And everyone was into it. I loved that last song.’
Abi nodded. ‘“Dead Friend”, Kaz is a genius songwriter.’
‘You’re a great band.’
Abi was hyper. ‘Folk came up to us straight after to say they enjoyed it, asking if we had any stuff recorded.’
It was only their fourth gig but maybe things moved faster these days. Dorothy remembered being fifteen years old back in Pismo Beach, wanting life to come quicker, wanting everything to happen now. If only she’d known.
Kazuko and Taylor joined them, Abi hugging them again. Taylor was quiet, a good kid, no nonsense, dependable. It’s what you needed in a bassist. Kazuko was trying to play it cool but the response had her buzzing.
‘What did you think, Mrs S?’
All the kids called her that. They didn’t blink that a woman in her seventies was roadying for a band of teenagers, and they loved her for letting them practise at her place in the evenings.
‘Brilliant,’ Dorothy said, putting weight into it.
Kazuko nodded, happy to have the approval. She turned to Abi. ‘We need to get our shit out before Alex comes on.’
Dorothy left and brought the van round the side entrance for load-out. The door was open, drum kit and amps piled up. She went in and saw the three of them at the side of the stage arguing with the man she’d spotted earlier. Her stomach went tight.
‘What’s up?’ she said.
Kazuko turned to Dorothy. ‘This guy’s hassling us.’
Abi shook her head, eyes wet. Brittany Howard was still playing over the PA. The man held Abi’s arm.
‘Who are you?’ Dorothy said.
The man turned to her. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Dorothy, I’m looking after these guys.’
Abi shook her arm free. ‘Mrs S, he says he’s my dad. My real dad.’
‘Abigail,’ the man pleaded.
Dorothy’s heart sank. She’d feared this day. She’d hoped Abi’s mum would deal with it first, and that Abi would be older. But you were never old enough to process this shit.
‘What’s your name?’ Dorothy said pointedly.
It shook his focus from Abi. ‘Derek. Derek Winters.’
‘Derek, this is not the time or place for this.’
Abi shook her head, hair whipping round. ‘You know him?’
Dorothy shook her head. ‘Not exactly.’
Derek took Abi’s arm again. ‘Abigail, let’s talk somewhere quiet, the two of us.’
Kazuko stuck her chin out. ‘Wait a fucking minute.’
Abi shook her arm free again and pushed away.
‘Abigail, please, I’m your dad.’
‘I don’t believe you.’ She turned to Dorothy. ‘Tell me what you know.’
Dorothy thought about what Sandra had told her, back when Dorothy found out she’d hired an actor to pretend to be Abi’s dad. Why someone would go to those lengths. She turned to Derek.
‘Do you want to explain?’
Derek looked defeated. What was he thinking coming here? How could he expect any kind of relationship with her?
His shoulders slumped and he shook his head.
Dorothy looked at Kazuko and Taylor. ‘This is not the right time.’
‘Just fucking tell me,’ Abi said.
Dorothy breathed deeply. It would never be the right time, and the girl trusted her.
‘He’s your dad,’ she said. ‘And your granddad.’