If I Fell

~38~

Descending into the basement meandering through the wood-panelled alcoves of the long, low club my eyes abug, a chill of anticipation runs through me. The chic club is where I will have my eyes opened up to London's music scene like nowhere else.

Wondering what I am doing here; Out of my depth and experience.

Mick Jagger wanders past and I gawk at him from behind Pattie, George grins mercilessly then is off, dragging me over to a dimly lit corner. Setting me down in a seat before wandering off with John to fetch drinks and talk to those assembled at the bar.

Tucked away in the heart of the busting Soho district close to fashion central Carnaby Street , the Bag O'Nails is a private members club offering a luxury experience 'like no other' .

Well that's what the sign said as we approached the stairs to the basement, as if to remind me I was an outsider.

"Here, drink this"

A drink of aqua blue is sat in front of me and one positioned for Pattie upon her return from the toilets

"It's fancy and new, called a Blue Hawaiian" George explains.

"A what?!"

"Hawaiian, Blue Hawaiian Abbs it's got loads of good stuff in it, try it" George pesters me as I take a tentative sip, he slips away and I taste it again, smiling around the straw as Pattie drops down beside me.

"Nice?"

"mmmmhhhm" I grin again.

The boys are back and conversations run through a gamult of topics- tours, albums, family, lovers as many people wander in and out of the corner. The red velvet curtains, that match the velvet on the lounges we are seated on, swish back as a drunk girl dashes past to the toilets, chased by two more slightly less drunk girls.

It's fun and I like how the boys are always making sure Pattie and I are ok, as Pattie loosens up she begs George for a dance pulling on his previously loosened tie and rolling her blue shadowed eyes at him as he ignores her giggly pleas.

The deep brown square wood panelling making the room feel smaller than it is, creates a pleasant vibe of humming friendly sound and laughter, a few girls on laps of other musician's has me intrigued to the goings on around me and John sometimes pats my hand to rein me in from craning my neck to gawk. The Blue Hawaiian, having taken a toll on my sensabilities, has me up on my knees at times watching Pattie shimmy on the dance floor, George is a pretty good dancer and I nudge John to look as he drains another glass.

As the night progresses the room gets increasingly louder. I thought it was just me but even Pattie is yelling over the din now.

George and John lean over the bar, John looks smooth and cool in his outfit, it fits him really well, George's shirt is ruffled greens and blues with flecks of yellow and his pair of deep purple trousers are bright. They chat to a few others, I can see Mick and Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, the drummer - Moon.

Just from watching John tonight and the last few I can see he is sad, the aura that it creates haunts his eyes, oh of course he smiles and laughs and acts the goose covering it nicely, but an underlying feeling of doubt of himself breaks through at times.

Which for John, I would think, is not natural. He is, or usually is, the most positive person about. Is it a front that has cracked a little under the pressure of Cynthia's and his end?

Pattie nudged me, Tom Jones 'Deliah' was nodding a hello at Pattie and I as he walked by, we waved but he was on his way out with a lady friend.

"Toms nice, welsh. He has a great voice. That's his wife she's not really a clubber"