Oh I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside

Jack’s dreams had been a draining succession of tumbling from cliffs and falling from the sky. Whenever he managed to ground himself, he was soon off again floating through the air and completely out of control.

His alarm blurted out the theme tune from Hawaii 5-O. He reached over and switched it off, took a sip from his glass of water and fell back into his pillow. He felt more drained than when he’d gone to bed.

He slipped his hand over the mattress, hoping to find Paige there all warm and grumpy and ready to shift herself to the far edge of the bed as soon as he touched her.

Instead, the empty space beside him was cold.

He rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head to block out the morning light. He worked through his relaxation routine, tensing all of the muscles in his body in turn, starting with his toes.

He drifted easily into the space between wake and sleep until he eventually found rest.

Pictures of childhood played through his head like clips of You Tube sewn together with silk. He was warm and safe and living in a black and white world of ice creams and cartoons and tame animals. One of the animals, he couldn’t quite make out which one, seemed to want to get close to him. It breathed hot fumes into his face. The stink of stale tuna engulfed him. Something rough and hard rubbed against his cheek and snatched him from the world of sleep.

He opened his eyes.

Sheba had her paws on the bed. Her tongue licked at him like damp sandpaper.

“Aw, come on girl. Don’t you know what time it is?”

She didn’t answer.

“It’s half past...” Jack picked up his phone and checked the display. “...Eleven!” Late. Sheba gave him a high pitched whine. No wonder the poor dog was fretting. She should have been out for her walk hours earlier. “I’m so sorry.”

Within five minutes he was outside the flat, nibbling at a slice of toast and being dragged along by Sheba toward the beach.

The smell of salt filled his nostrils. Up above, the clouds feathered like fleurs-de-lis against a perfect blue sky. The sea frothed in the distance and the promenade was already busy with families and old folk making the most of what was left of Sunday morning.

Sheba pulled them over to the sand. Jack remembered his instructions and unclipped the lead. She was off in a flash, her body close to the ground, the white tip of her tail madly spinning as she ran. After a couple of wide circles, she settled down into a crouch next to a couple of young children who were busy digging and their father who had his nose in a book. Jack felt in his pocket for a poo bag. There was nothing there.

“Sugar!” The bags had been by the toaster. He’d had them all ready to go, next to the keys and his wallet. He checked all his pockets. No bags, but at least he had everything else.

Sheba stood up again and ran over to the sea leaving a huge pile behind her.

Jack looked around the beach. Where the hell were all the carrier bags when you actually needed one?

The children with the buckets had stopped playing and were staring at the mess. The dad had also stopped reading and seemed to be looking around for the cavalry.

Without a bag, Jack felt useless. The best plan of action seemed to be to ignore the problem and pretend he had nothing to do with the animal. They could hook up together again further up the beach and he’d make sure he had the bags with him next time.

He turned away from the family and strode off back in the direction of the promenade.

Sheba bolted in front of him and dropped a piece of driftwood at his feet. She lay down and looked up expectantly at her new master, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth as she panted.

Jack stopped then changed direction and walked away.

Sheba was quick. She picked up the stick and stopped him in his tracks.

“Hey! Is that your dog?” It was the man with the children. He sounded close. Jack turned around and stared into the red face of the angry father.

Jack buried his hands in his pockets and thought about the answer. He could deny everything and just walk on, but something told him he wouldn’t get away with that. Besides, from what he knew of the Scots, they were a fiery bunch and this guy was as likely to punch his lights out as to listen to a pack of cool-headed lies.

“No. Well not exactly. But yes.”

The father walked up close and invaded Jack’s personal space. “Have you seen what it’s left right next to where my children are playing? It’s disgusting. You can be fined for dog-fouling you know.”

“Really? I’m sorry.” He was, too. “I was just off back to the flat to get some bags just in case. I had them all ready when I left and then plain forgot them.”

“No bags? What kind of dog-owner are you?” The man’s face turned purple. It was probably something to do with all those fried Mars bars the Scots favoured.

“I’m not the owner. I’m just looking after...”

“I don’t bloody care. You get over there and sort out the mess or I’m calling the police.”

It didn’t seem real. Jack had spent all of his twenty-two years living in one of the busiest, most exciting cities in the world and the only time he’d ever come close to the police was the time they’d come in to school to talk about the danger of strangers. Now here he was in the sticks, two days since his arrival, and he was being threatened with the law.

“There’s no need for that. I’ll sort it.” Sheba picked up the stick and sat there expectantly. Jack took it from her and threw it as far as he could. She chased it like her life depended on it.

He could smell the poo from twenty feet away. It was rank. No wonder the guy had lost the plot.

The two children stood frozen like statues in their stripy swimming costumes and sunhats. Their mouths were open and it looked as though they were about to burst into tears.

“Can I use this?” Jack reached over and gingerly picked up a red spade and a bucket that was in the shape of a castle.

The little boy ran away and the girl remained quiet. Jack wasn’t sure if either action gave him permission, but if he didn’t sort things out quickly he’d have more explaining to do. He took a deep breath, held it in and set to work digging a hole next to the mound. He worked until his lungs were fit to burst then stepped over in the direction of the sea to replenish his air supply. With a new stock of oxygen, he dug until the hole seemed fit for purpose.

Another breath of fresh air and he headed back to the poo. This time he couldn’t avoid looking at it. It had a rich brown colour and the consistency of a Mr Whippy. Jack felt his stomach lurch and a hunk of his breakfast toast shift upwards as if it were keen to escape. Thank goodness he didn’t have any bags! If he’d had to pick up the stuff, he’d have vomited on the spot.

Jack gave the poo a wide berth when he dug the spade in. He picked up a wedge of sand with the mess on top and threw it into the hole. As soon as it was in, he filled the hole in as quickly as he could. He patted the ground firm and flat so that it would remain buried forever.

“There you go,” he told the girl. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Clearly it was. The tears she’d been holding on to snuck out of her eyes and slid down her cheeks. Jack offered her the spade, handle first. The tears just poured more quickly.

Sheba appeared again with her stick. Jack didn’t waste any time. He grabbed her collar, clipped the lead back on and walked quickly away. He waved and sent a smile in the direction of the father who was carrying his son and rushing over to comfort his daughter. They’d get over it, Jack thought. And so would he.

*

Sheba’s ears pricked and she changed direction. Jack looked up and to see where she was taking him. At the top of the beach, a small crowd had gathered in a circle. It had the kind of shape you’d see in Covent Garden surrounding a busker. Maybe there was more to this Portobello place than Jack had initially thought.

It didn’t take long for Jack to be able to hear what was going on. Over the hushed whispers of the sea breeze he picked out the smooth notes of what sounded like a double bass. It was followed by the tapping of a rhythm, the chords of a guitar and the sweet sounds of an angel’s voice.

An audience two and three deep stood around the band that was creating the tunes. There were people of all ages and sizes and each and every one of them wore a huge smile. Jack took his place at the back, taking full advantage of his height to get a look at what was going on.

He’d been right about the double bass. The man who played it had his eyes closed and he slapped the strings. He was heavy set, wore thick spectacles and had a pudding bowl haircut that was black at the top with tips that had been died pink. His clothes were scruffy denim and he wore a blue badge with AYE written across it in bold white letters. His fingers worked easily as he played, as if he’d been born to it.

The drummer sat on a wooden box with a hole in the centre. He tapped and stroked it to keep the beat. His bracelets rattled around on his brown wrists as he worked, offering an added bonus to his rhythms.

There were two guitarists. The first wore a trilby hat. His left ear was full from top to bottom with silver earrings and his pointed beard was carefully sculpted like a ginger Charlie Mingus. He strummed in perfect time with the woman in the middle of it all who sang while she played her guitar. The sound was sublime. Her voice was high and she threw in trills and frills like she was toying with the tune. The song was about being young and in love and was so beautiful that it practically broke Jack’s heart.

Sheba seemed happy enough. She pulled on the lead and sneaked forward as if to get a better view. When she got to the front, she lay down with her tongue lolling as she panted along in time to the music.

The song finished and everyone applauded. A few people stepped in and threw coins into the open guitar case behind the drummer. One even bought one of the CDs that were on offer.

“Thank you. We’re Ip Dip Sky Blue and we hope you’re all enjoying this wonderful weather.” There was another surge of applause. “This next one’s called High as the Sky. It’s about chocolate.” The band looked over at the bass player and he began.

It was another jolly tune and it added to the weight in Jack’s heart. He looked at the singer and caught a flash of something that reminded him of Paige. It rocked him back onto his heels and he had to lean forward to re-establish his balance.

There was no doubt the singer had a pretty face, even if her pale smooth skin was pale and long narrow nose made Jack think of witches in children’s books. If she was a witch, then it white magic was definitely her style. If it wasn’t for her hair, Jack might have wanted to take her home for keeps. What the hell was she doing wearing dreadlocks like that? Tightly wound ribbons in all the colours of the rainbow hung from her head like the snakes of Medusa. They gave her the look of a child from another age - the sixties, perhaps. Maybe even the future. Whenever it was, it certainly not any time Jack had lived through.

As the tune built up, she picked up her riff bang on cue. Her bracelets jangled like tambourine bells as she played her guitar. The tune was happy and bright, the words full of broken hearts and sadness. The contradiction was strangely melancholic and worked really well. By the second verse, Jack knew the tune and was humming quietly along. They weren’t bad at all, for buskers at any rate.

The singer was like a bird with a broken wing. Her ideas were high in the sky and it was only the laws of nature that kept her feet on the ground. Jack wanted to scoop her up and put her in his pocket, keep her safe and let her mend so he could let her go and watch her fly high and fast to where her dreams lay.

She looked right at Jack and beamed one of her smiles in his direction. Her eyes were green like sea-glass and they shone at him like lasers. It was like she could see into his mind. As if she understood his thoughts and wanted him to put her back together and set her free.

Her gaze was so intense that Jack had to look elsewhere. He flicked his attention to the rest of the band in turn. They hadn’t seemed to notice that the world had suddenly shifted. That everything had become lopsided as if there’d been some kind of landslide or global catastrophe.

He looked at the crowd to see if they had felt it. They just carried on watching and swaying to the music just as they’d been doing since the song began.

Over on the other side of the circle, an old man in a tracksuit and with a peach of a black eye wandered over carrying a couple of hot-dogs. Jack could smell the fry of the onions mingling with the sweet heat of mustard. The guy passed one of the rolls over to his lady companion who was sitting at the front of the crowd in a wheelchair. Even in the sunshine, she cuddled up in a tartan blanket and wore a pair of leather gloves.

Jack felt something pulling at his wrist. He looked down to see the handle of the lead slipping away.

Sheba bolted over to the couple on the other side of the circle. She leapt into the air and snatched the lady’s lunch from her hand. The hot dog disappeared quickly as Sheba sprinted off into the distance, the lead trailing behind.

The idea of completely disowning his dog flashed through Jack’s mind once again. Sheba would be all right. There’d be someone out there who’d take her on, what with those cutely different coloured eyes, her sleek coat and the way she sometimes looked like she was smiling. And there was always the SSPCA if all else failed. Sure, his aunt wouldn’t be happy, but if he could think of a half-decent excuse, maybe even fork out for a new puppy, she might not take it so badly.

He looked up at the sky and did his best to battle against the spread of heat in his cheeks that he sensed were bright pink already. He put his hands in his pockets and took a small step backwards.

“Oi you. Was that your bloody animal?” The woman in the wheelchair clearly hadn’t fallen for Jack’s attempt at an innocent face. She was staring right at him. “Owners like you need putting down.”

The man with her put his hand on her shoulder as if trying to calm her down. She swatted it away like it was an alien creature. “That’s two quid you owe me for starters, son.”

Just like they were supposed to, the band played on.

Jack reached into his bag and felt around. There was a handkerchief, his phone and the house keys. There wasn’t a coin to be had. How absolutely typical! At least he had his emergency stash. He slipped out his phone from its case and pulled out his last fiver.

He stepped into the band’s space, smiled apologetically at the woman with the ribbons in her hair and then at the drummer who was giving him a hard-stare. The old lady sat with her palm open waiting for him to fill it. Jack placed the blue note onto the glove. “Sorry. The lead just slipped.”

“Aye, well you should get down to the gym and sort out those weedy arms of yours.” She waved the money at him as if it were a weapon. “You’re lucky I’ll not be suing your skinny arse off.” A fleck of saliva flew from her mouth as she ranted. It landed on Jack’s cheek. How totally revolting! He had to get out of there ASAP before she drenched him in the spit. He looked around for a sign of Sheba. There was none.

Something pulled at his trousers. Jack looked down to see the old lady’s glove tugging at him. A finger clad in black leather extended in the direction of the Espy. “That way,” she told him. “You’ll need to be quick, mind.”

He didn’t need another cue to take his exit and sprinted off in the direction he’d been pointed in.

It wasn’t long before his lungs were burning and his legs began to tighten. Maybe the old bag in the wheelchair had been right about him needing to get along to the gym. Paige might even take him back if he developed his muscles.

The thought of Paige took the last of the breath from his lungs and he slowed to a stop. He took out his phone and clicked right on his Twitter app. There she was. Top of the list. @PaigeTurner. “Celebrating my new job with friends at the Freemasons. Sun’s out and I’m ready to play. #BRING-IT-ON.” She’d crushed his heart in fewer than 140 characters. That was impressive. He slung the phone back into his bag and set about looking for Sheba once again.

There were dogs of all shapes and sizes everywhere. Some were attached to their owners while others ran free on the sand. Not one of them had the distinct black and white markings of a border collie. The only thing for it was to take a tour of his new hometown.

On a sunny day like this, Portobello was beautiful. Elegant houses spoke of money and style. It was the windows that caught Jack’s attention, put in by builders who cared about their craft. He didn’t have time to admire the buildings individually, however. Not today. He skipped past doors and gates, nosing into gardens and peering down roads hoping to catch a glimpse of Sheba.

He got all the way to the old Victorian swimming pool before deciding to give up the ghost. Not knowing the town or the dog well hadn’t given him much of a chance of succeeding in his quest. He decided to loop back around by the seafront and then back home. If he was lucky, Sheba might have a Lassie instinct. She might be waiting for him at the doorstep when he got back. He certainly hoped so. The idea of upsetting his aunt didn’t have any of the appeal that it had earlier that afternoon. He pictured her face breaking into tears when he told her the news. Imagined all the lies he’d have to tell on the phone as the calls came in from New Delhi and Agra and Mumbai. His stomach twisted and turned until there were more knots in there than on a cub-scout’s rope.

He kicked at the sand as he wandered back to the flat.

The air of happiness about the place only made Jack feel all the more miserable. The children smiled as they played. The old folk had a shine in their eyes as they looked out on the horizon. Couples gave off the aura of love and closeness. Even the seagulls seemed to be laughing as they swooped down to capture scraps of food.

Maybe they were laughing. Laughing at him in his helpless state. His arms were puny, his girlfriend had dumped him, he had no home of his own, he was a fiver down on the afternoon, was unemployed and couldn’t even find the dog he didn’t own.

How much worse could things get?

A little, as it turned out. A spray of the sand he’d kicked went straight into the eyes of a toddler who had been pressing shells into castle walls. The kid burst into tears and ran off to find an adult.

Jack didn’t hang around to find out how much trouble he was in. It just wasn’t his day. Tomorrow he’d get up on the other side of the bed, even if that did mean moving it from its place against the wall.

As he recalled the adage about never working with children or animals, he saw something he recognised. In the near distance, just where the band had been playing earlier, he could make out Sheba, her ears pricked in his direction and her nose pointing in the air.

He picked up his pace and, as he got closer, realised that Sheba was still on her lead. At the other end of her lead was an arm that was covered in bangles.

“Hello stranger.” The lilt in her voice calmed Jack’s nerves immediately. “Is this what you’ve been looking for?”

Sheba jumped up at him. She placed her paws on his tee-shirt and seemed to want to climb up to lick his face.

“Hi girl. Where the hell have you been?” There was nothing chastising in his voice, only the soothing tones of relief.

“She came back just after you ran off. We were almost finished anyway, so I thought I’d hang around and see if I could help.”

“That was kind of you.”

“No worries.”

“I owe you. Big time.”

“Well, all that singing’s made me thirsty. I’d kill for a drink?” Her smile was like a beacon of hope on his stormy horizon.

“You know a cafe around here that allows dogs?”

She stretched her arm out along the prom and to all the cafes with their tables set outside.

Jack reached out and took the lead from the singer. He let her take his free arm, pick up her guitar and steer him in the direction of the Blue Dolphin cafe.

*

Sheba lay under the table. The day’s activities had clearly been too much for her and, having already emptied a bowl of water, she seemed happy to hide away from the sun and from the crowds.

The waitress came over and put two cups of peppermint tea in front of them.

“Are you sure this stuff’s fit to drink?” The glass was full of a greenish yellow liquid and a teabag that clung on to the side like a limpet.

“It’s what I have when I’m stressed. You’ll see. It’ll calm you down after all your exertions.”

At least it was cheap. A couple of coffees would have taken him beyond his emergency five pounds even without a tip and that would have been plain embarrassing.

“So she’s not your dog then. Maybe that’s why she’s so unsettled. She’ll get used to your ways, don’t worry.”

Jack lifted his glass and sniffed at his drink. There was a definite whiff of mint to it, mixed in with a scent that was reminiscent of grass clippings. “Let’s hope so.” He took a sip. It practically burned his lips off. He winced and licked his wounds. “Jeepers. That’s hot.”

The singer giggled. Her eyes seemed to light up as she did so. It took Jack’s mind off the pain and he smiled back.

“It’s because there’s no milk, see?”

“Sorry?”

“To cool it down. It’s just boiling water and herbs.”

“Of course. I’ll remember the next time.”

“There’ll be a next time will there? You fancy yourself as some kind of hot stuff, eh?”

The heat from Jack’s lips spread across his face as he felt himself blushing. “Not at all. I meant...”

“Just kidding.” She’d pushed him in at the deep-end and then thrown him a lifeline. Definitely a woman of contradictions. Just like Paige. She blew on her tea and took a sip. “You should have seen your face when Sheba took off with that roll.”

“I’m glad I couldn’t.”

“That old lady looked like she was ready to beat you to death with her blanket.”

“Or her dentures.”

“Either way, I’d say you got off lightly.”

Lightly? It had cost him his fiver. The reminder hit him in the middle of the forehead. He didn’t have any cash or cards to pay the bill. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. They could do a runner, but he didn’t want to be barred from the nicest cafe on the front on his first weekend. Besides, he liked the woman he was with. She made him feel easier about the world, as if she made his problems seem far away. The only thing he could do was to come clean and hope to hell she’d forgive him.

“As it turned out, she wasn’t such a tough old bird after all,” the singer said. “She used the money you gave her to buy one of our CDs.” She took the note from her pocket and held it out. “Maybe I’ll keep this as a memento of how we met. Just in case.”

“Well actually...” The words weren’t easy to find. “I’m in a difficult spot. You see, that was the last of my money, so it might be better if you lend it to me so that I can pay for the drinks.”

Ailsa’s eyes opened wide and filled with disbelief. “You’re quite some date. It’s a good job I’m an understanding kind of girl. Sure I’ll pay. On one condition.”

There was always a catch. “Which is?”

“That you come to our gig on Wednesday. You won’t have to pay. I’ll put you on the guest list. Tell them Ailsa sent you if I forget. The Cabaret Voltaire, 8pm. We’ve got wind that there are a few A&R spotters coming up from London to check us out some time soon. You come along and you’ll be helping us out. All you need to do is to whoop and cheer as if we’re the Beatles or the Stones.”

Jack could do without going out in the middle of the week. He’d been all set for locking himself indoors and feeling sorry for himself. “Sure. Pay for the drinks and I’ll be there.”

“That’s settled then. Now drink your tea and tell me what your name is and why on earth you’re looking after a dog four hundred miles from your home.”