Call Me Back Again

CHAPTER 9

Paul soon discovered that everyone knew Dorothy, and Dorothy knew everyone. Or rather, Marvin did, because that turned out to be his real name. They'd found that out when they'd ducked into the train station to stow away their bags, and they'd been properly introduced.

Whilst John and Paul stuffed their essentials into their pockets, Marv - who they kept calling Dorothy half the time - had explained that he was with the organisation, and that he only ever wore drag on special occasions, and that they had to get a move on, which they would have, except at the last second, John changed his mind and pulled out the massive flag which was easily big enough to double as a bedsheet. Finally, they were on their way, struggling to keep up with Marv, who they kept calling Dorothy and who was walking on those platform stilettos as if they were a pair of trainers.

"So Dorothy," John panted as they turned into a street which was closed off to visitors, "what are we supposed to be doing anyway?"

"In a nutshell? Look cute." Marvin slowed down enough to walk at their side, and reached into his wicker basket to dig up a couple of brightly coloured wristbands which he handed to them. "Put these on and don't lose them. They'll grant you access to the backstage area and the after party."

Now it was Paul's turn to be curious. "We still don't know what it is we're supposed to do, or why it had to be us."

"Alright, then. Do you know the Petticoats pub?"

John shook his head no because he didn't know the place, but he noticed Paul nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's just off Temple Street, right? I've been meaning to go there ever since the Lindy Bop over in Aintree closed. It's a fifties style bar," he explained when he noticed John's expression, which probably looked every bit as confused as he felt. Well, that solved that mystery. Of course, Paul would know where to go for old-fashioned Rock 'n' Roll music.

"Right. My husband is the owner." They were ushered into a narrow alleyway now, beyond which they could already see the starting point where all the participants were gathered. "In return for being a festival sponsor, he gets to promote the pub. That's where you come in. Nothing serious required; just sit in the back of an oldtimer, have fun and interact with the audience a bit. If you spot someone who looks like they'd enjoy the pub, give them a flyer. That's all there is to it. We used to have two couples, but the boys who were supposed to participate broke up a few days ago. I've been running around all day to find a couple to replace them, and here you are."

From the moment they entered the secluded area, Paul wasn't sure where to look first. Everywhere he looked were groups of people standing around, talking, laughing, having drinks... There had to be hundreds of them, if not more. Some were fixing their makeup or costumes, others were lounging about, and there were quite a few couples dancing to the music that washed over them from a cluster of loudspeakers. It looked like every possible demographic was represented. The largest group by far was the one paying homage to Michael Causer, the gay teenager who was beaten to death seven years earlier. Paul supposed some of those people had to be his family. He felt his heart ache for them.

John, meanwhile, was equally impressed even though he'd planned to act as if it was just another day. It was simply too much fun to see all those different people. The leather community was well represented as always, and he couldn't help but grin at some of the outfits (or lack thereof, since half of them had their arse hanging out, and some wore just barely enough to cover their naughty bits). They were a friendly bunch, though, and several of them waved merrily when they noticed John watching them. One even blew him a kiss, which sent John into a fake swoon and that, in turn, resulted in Paul shaking his head in mock exasperation. 'I can't take him anywhere', he signalled to the men in leather. They appeared to agree.