The Ballade of Nixon Tyme Chapter Twenty Four

Tanner spun the ring on his little finger, and said nothing. Jack Renard looked up to the ceiling, and laughed out loud.

“Ha !............You are kidding ?”

They'd been sitting in the deserted, oak panelled lounge of Renard's local pub on Peckham Rye, and Tanner had spent the last fifteen minutes explaining his involvement with The Belleville Riders, and his plan to resurrect the band, with Jack taking on the role of Marrat.

It turned out that not only did Renard know of the Riders, but he even had the album. He'd never seen them live, but their influence had evidently touched him. Back in 1977, The Sex Pistols had taken on the mantle, initiated by The Riders, and were dominating the British music scene, and by early '78, Renard, then seventeen, had decided to set up his own punk band.

In those days, Renard was living in Stoke, but by the time he eventually came across the Riders' album, it was nearly five years after they had folded. His resemblance to Marrat was not lost on him, and for a time he even pretended to his friends that it was him. It was a big deal in those days even to have made a record. Apart from the interview feature in the music press, preceding the 100 Club gig, up in Stoke, not many had heard of The Belleville Riders, so Renard, with little risk, had milked the opportunity.

He probably had one of the few copies of the record that had made it outside of London, and by the time he'd got hold of it, the Punk Rock wave, had lost relevance. It was only around twelve years later, when living in London, that he became aware of the real significance of The Belleville Riders.

“Strange isn't it ? I would have been a bit too young to take his place in '76, and you know, honestly, I didn't think I looked so alike as I do now. Its like I've morphed into him.”

“...and you really pretended to be him ?”

“Well, it was just a laugh, really. They'd been done years ago, so I blagged it a bit, just to get girls..... or drugs.............ha ha....it worked, though”

“So you know the songs, then ?”

“Its been a while, but yeah........I used to sing along to it at the wardrobe mirror...ha ha. Even got the accent down, I thought..... Did you know my grandfather was French ? That's how I got the name. It means fox, you know, so now I call myself The Silver Fox, 'cos 'o the hair....”

Tanner looked at Renard's greying temples, and wondered whether this could work. The Marrat he'd known came over as a deep individual. He hardly spoke, but when he did it was for good reason, now, here was Renard, already on his second pint and chaser, and barely able to shut up.

By the time he'd walked into The Queen's Head, later that afternoon, Tanner had almost talked himself out of it. Clifford Cooke seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Apart from carrying a few more pounds, he didn't look so different. It was an enjoyable time spent filling in the missing years. Clifford had been running the pub, having a family, and following his beloved Charlton Athletic. He hadn't played in a band for a long time, but still kept his drums set up in the cellar.

“I always kept me hand in, an' ave a practice now an' then. I s'pose it was 'avin the kids, and the pub, I didn't ave the time for bands. Now they've grown up, I must admit I miss it.”

Tanner brought him up to date with recent events. He then explained about Blanchard's letter, and the discovery of Jack Renard, although he stopped short when it came to Cecile.

His date with her in Paris had left him feeling more confused than ever. As first impressions went, his spirits had been lifted. She looked older than her photo had suggested, but nevertheless, even more attractive. Her hair was obviously greying, but unlike many, she'd chosen to keep it that way, and Tanner felt it gave her a more refined air. She spoke English beautifully, and generally confirmed everything that he'd hoped he'd find when he read her profile, but then, she revealed some facts that hadn't been divulged.

“I have a son who's eighteen and a husband, but no longer live as a couple. Are you married ?”

Tanner wasn't expecting the question, and hesitated.

“Don't worry, I'm not shocked. Many men want to........how do you say ? Have their cake...”

“No, you don't understand. It's not like that.....................”  and Tanner, sensing it slipping away, poured it all out.

He explained about Erica, the guilt, confusion, how this was the first time he'd ever done anything like this, and how he'd wondered whether it was ever possible to find a perfect match.

“I suppose if I'm being honest, then I wanted to just test the water without compromising everything I have. Its not a bad life, but...............” he tailed off

“.......is that all there is ?” she sang to the melody of Peggy Lee's classic, as she finished her glass.

“Another one ?”

She declined. Cecile had explained before their meeting, that she didn't have much time, but now, here in the moment, a couple of hours had passed in what seemed like minutes, and Tanner couldn't be sure whether anything he'd said had caused her to bail out early. She kissed him gently on the cheek, and wished him a safe trip home.

“I'll email, is that okay ?...........Au revoir”

Clifford's reaction to Tanner's plan was reassuringly upbeat. There was no grey area with Cliff, and that's what Tanner liked about him. He realised that his enthusiasm had buoyed his own belief, when expressing some of his doubts about Renard.

“Well what's the worst that can happen ? This geezer's been blagging it in a tribute band, yeah ? So as long as ee learns is words, what's the problem ? Anyway, its not like we're breaking the law or anythin'. If it comes down to it, who's to say that we didn't actually know it wasn't really him ?”

Tanner nodded

“Anyway it's France isn't it ? Ow they gonna know the difference ?.....We never played there, plus.......They want to believe it, don't they ?”

It was a strong argument. Tanner knew from Blanchard's reaction to the possibility of a reformation, that the suspension of disbelief could be entirely possible. Finally Cliff made the point that it was the first time in a long time that he'd be able to leave the pub for any period. His eldest son was now capable of taking the reigns for a while. It would be a good trial for him. He also explained that it would give him one last shot at doing something he felt he owed himself.

“You know we 'ad something with that band. Trouble was, it was over before it began, and nothing else ever lived up to it after that. That's 'ow I ended up like this, in the pub. Still, I was luckier than Damon. I reckon e'll need it more than me.............”

Cliff went on to explain that he'd kept tabs on Damon over the years. He'd never actually stopped playing since The Riders, but somehow never managed to find a place in a band that fitted so well as his role as Marrat's second in command. The story went, that by the mid eighties he'd picked up a drug habit, that had conspired to blight any further chances of success. Life had spiralled downhill, until he'd found himself penniless, living in squats, and then selling his guitars to feed his addiction.

“It was a sorry tale, but then I ran across 'im not long back, and guess what? He'd found a special friend, and got himself cleaned up. The power of love, eh ?

I recently heard he was playing again, but you know what I think ? None of it'll live up to what we 'ad back then, an e'll be back to playin' shitty bars, then chasin' 'is dragons again. Thinking on it, ee probably needs this more than any of us.”

Tanner asked Clifford if he had Damon's details.

“Leave it to me, Tan, I'm sure I'll get him fired up. You need to make sure this Renard geezer is up to speed. Give me a couple o days, and I'll get back to ya. One rehearsal should tell whether we can nail this or not”

Tanner didn't have to wait long. In fact, the very next day, Cliff called to say that he'd made contact with Damon, and, as long as they both felt that Renard was capable, they'd be willing to give it a go. He asked Tanner to book them a rehearsal room as soon as possible.

Tanner felt that now the wheels had begun to turn, it would soon reach a momentum where he wouldn't be able to stop. This was confirmed when he sent news to Blanchard, saying that he'd received a positive response from Clifford and Damon, and without going too far, he tentatively suggested that his enquiries had also revealed some rumours about the whereabouts of Marrat.

The response back from Paris was immediate. Blanchard had clearly taken it for granted that Marrat was already on board, and that the The Bellevilles were about to reform. Before Tanner had time to cool things down, Blanchard had come back with an outline of a fifteen date tour, and some very positive interest for an appearance at a summer festival. Blanchard wanted know how soon they could confirm. It was now late March, and they'd need to be quick to book it in time. He stressed the importance of the twenty fifth anniversary and the book launch, saying that they probably had no more than two weeks to finalise a contract. It was now or never. Tanner started to feel uneasy about what he'd got himself in to. Why was he doing this?

Barely four weeks ago he'd lost his mother, and now, after years of meandering, everything had slipped into fast forward. Ironically, the last time he'd felt this way was in 1976. Back then, it was a boring life on the market stalls, and he'd made a simple decision to change. Now he tried to rationalise. This was ultimately about escape. The opportunity in France was a means to an end, and meant that he could physically remove himself from a situation he no longer felt comfortable with at home. It would allow him the space to explore the possibility of a new life with somebody, somebody like Cecile. The problem was, he hardly knew her, and she may have already decided she wasn't interested anyway. Was it worth the risk with the band, for such a tenuous fantasy?

Then, an email arrived from Cecile. Tanner's finger hovered over the mouse in anticipation.