The Scottish Heart

Chapter 1-3

Sunday night and they were a quintet. Christopher Lejune came and Nathan was glad to see him. It must have been a rush to come up for he was in uniform. He played tenor saxophone and when off duty from the US Air Force Base at Prestwick, liked to sit in with the band. He"d met Leo at a gig down in Ayrshire. Chris was a good friend.

“Nathan,” Chris said. “How you doin"?”

“Good, Chris; you?”

Chris slung the instrument, holding it in with his left hand. He nodded and raised his right thumb.

“C Jam Blues?”

C Jam Blues; a good number to open and Chris counted out the beat: ”A one, two, a one two three four.” It would get the attention of the small audience and a few couples, keen on dancing might take the floor. If they could dance to what they played the quintet didn"t mind, but on Sunday evenings they played for themselves.

Four numbers played that first hour, and Chris, who loved the Blue Note sound moved them from C Jam Blues to Art Blakey"s Moanin" and further out. He was an inspiration; they all played better when Chris was there. The last number, their swinging version of Three Coins In a Fountain, Nathan had his jacket off, tie loosened.

Nathan mopped his brow, tightened the tie, put on his jacket; and then he saw Dorothy Jones standing near the door. There was a girl with her and she definitely wanted to be somewhere else.

“Chris, those two girls by the door; chat up the mousey one for me.”

“I like the other one,” Chris teased.

“Come on, Chris,” Nathan said.

“OK, OK, I"ll do it.”

“Hello, Dorothy,” Nathan said, holding her hand for a moment.

“Hello, Nathan. That was wonderful. I"ve never heard anything like it.”

“Good.”

Nathan felt warm and glad that she"d come, but tried to bottle down his euphoria, fearing that he might get it wrong and say something too familiar; too intimate and unsuitable. That would ruin everything. He felt very tender towards her and guessed that she"d taken risks to come to the Club. He felt guilty about his erection and would die if she noticed. But the lighting in the Club was dim, and he felt safe from embarrassment.

Nathan"s mouth was dry from excitement. Finally, he found his voice. “What"s your friend"s name?”

“Audrey. She"s my cousin and I"m staying with her tonight. She"s a little uncomfortable.”

Chris was charming Audrey, smiling warmly, pointing to the instruments, miming playing his tenor. She"d pressed herself against the wall of the room, her face split by a mouthfull of white teeth.

“Who"s that speaking to her?” Dorothy said.

“The black man? That"s Christopher Lejune. Chris. He"s a good friend of ours.”

“He"s very handsome in his uniform.”

Chris always managed to look hip; the w**********l"s Sidney Poitier. In spite of an hour"s energetic playing, he remained cool and sweat free.

“I"m going outside for ten minutes,” Nathan said. “You want to come?”

“Thank you.”

Dorothy had on her good Sunday clothes for visiting her cousin, a neat costume, navy jacket and straight skirt. She wore dressy, but sensible shoes. It made her look rather prim for a girl of seventeen but did not hide her prettiness. She stood out from the club crowd.

“Take your coat, it might be chilly.” If she left it in the room, it might get stolen by one of the riff-raff.

It was a fine night and still light as he steered Dorothy across the road to the food stall that opened on weekends. It wasn"t much but it was clean; the man and wife who ran it liked the band.

“The coffee is milky and sweet,” Nathan said. “The tea is strong and sweet, and they do hot rolls. Try one on sliced sausage?”

“All right. Thank you.”

Nathan turned to look at her and in the strong lights of the stall, saw that she had on make up, a layer of foundation cream and a pale lip stick. He liked her better without it. She looked up smiling and he saw the shadow of a bruise on her right cheek. Without thinking, he reached out and instinctively Dorothy drew back from his hand.

“What happened to your face?”

She looked away, but he knew that Horse Jones had struck Dorothy. “Nothing happened. I don"t want to talk about it.” Nathan let the tips of his fingers touch the bruise and she didn"t flinch.

The food came and they bit into the hot roll and sausage. Dorothy sipped the hot, sweet tea. “It"s good.”

Back inside, Chris reading Nathan"s mind suggested a change of mood. “Let"s do ballads. Melancholy Baby, OK?”

Chris played nuanced variations of the melody linking with Chuck"s delicate bass line. Joe upped the tempo, a swinging four-four, the cymbals and hi-hat, lifting the song. Leo and Nathan played fast, improvising to the edge of the melody. The dancers stopped.

He was glad she liked his music. Nathan knew they"d played well and in Melancholy Baby he"d been close to saying what he felt about seeing Dorothy again. But it wasn"t enough. He had to say more.

They"d been rehearsing a new number that needed more work. But he knew that the song had what he wanted to say. “The new one?” Nathan said.

He coughed into the mike and the room went quiet. “We want to do a song for a friend of ours,” Nathan said, waving to Dorothy. She smiled.

Nathan liked to sing and concentrated on the mood of the song. The understanding in the band was deep and intuitive. They wanted to lift Nathan higher.

“Have you met Miss Jones?

Someone said as we shook hands, She was just Miss Jones to me.

And then I said, Miss Jones, you"re a girl who understands

I"m a man who must be free.

And all at once I lost my breath, and all at once was scared to death,

And all at once I owned the earth and sky.

And now I"ve met Miss Jones, and we"ll keep on meeting till we die,

Miss Jones and I.”

Nathan put the mute in the Bach and he and Leo played it taut and emotional. He sang perfectly for the song belonged to Dorothy Jones.

“And all at once I lost my breath, and all at once was scared to death,

And all at once I owned the earth and the sky.

Now I"ve met Miss Jones, and we"ll keep on meeting till we die,

Miss Jones and I, Miss Jones and I, Miss Jones and I.”

A last chorus, reprising the melody. Nathan heard Chuck bowing deep, romantic chords. Joe working with mallets, muffled beats on drums and soft ringing of cymbals brought the song to an end.

“So how was it?” Nathan said.

Audrey smirked. Dorothy smiled. “I like your singing and it"s a nice song. I"m embarrassed, but thank you.”

“How are you getting home?”

“We"ll walk. It"s not so far and it isn"t very late.”

Audrey headed for the lavatory. Visiting that squalid room would shock her.

Nathan held Dorothy"s coat. “Can I call you? Its probably better if I call you. What"s your surname?”

“Forrest, Nathan Forrest.”

He gave her his number. “Good night, Dorothy. I"m glad you came.”

“I will call, Nathan.”

She did call several times the following week, but Nathan told Ma to say he was out. Sunday night"s happiness vanished and by mid week he"d wrapped himself in despair: worrying that he was too old; that she was too young. He hid behind Horse Jones" drunken temper, an excuse for not returning her calls.

But he was afraid that it would end badly when she discovered he was illegitimate. He wrote her off; just a kid that didn"t matter. He was sorry when she stopped calling.

Nathan tried to move on. There was overtime at the yard. The next Sunday was the last session at the club before they stopped for the summer. Midweek, the band was rehearsing for a couple of good gigs Leo had arranged down the coast and Nathan worked on the new arrangements. He almost forgot about Dorothy Jones.

“Nathan, when are you goin" to stop wi" that piano and trumpet? Yer breakfast"s nearly ready,” Ma yelled from the kitchen.

“Ten minutes, Ma. Ah"m about finished.”

It was a beautiful June morning close to Noon. The sun shone in the open window and he saw the old bat that lived in the tenement flats across the common drying green, arms folded, scowling. He picked up the Bach and removed the mute, walking to the window, blasting out the opening notes of You Made Me Love You, finishing with ragged bugle calls. She slammed her window shut and disappeared into the room.

Nathan finished the eggs, bacon and toast before Ma was half way through hers. “You"ll have ulcers at the rate ye eat, Nathan.”

He grunted as he spread marmalade on a last slice of toast and re-filled his cup from the teapot hidden by its green cosy.

“It"s a grand day, Nathan Forrest, and Ah" hope you"re no" gonny spend it tootlin" on that trumpet. It"s time ye went oot and got some fresh air.”

“Somethin" wrong, Ma; are ye no" well?”

“Ach away wi" ye, Nathan. I"m fine and well ye know it. Get some fresh air in yer lungs, that"ll be good for ye.”

There was a tentative knock at the front door. Ma, finished with her breakfast, closed her knife and fork. “Ah"ll get it.”

He heard a young, tentative voice: a girl"s voice. “Is Nathan here; could I speak to him?”

“Come away in, lassie.”

“Hello, Nathan,” Dorothy Jones said as she came into the kitchen.

He stood, awkward, worried about his old, scuffed slippers, the faded jeans and the white T Shirt. But a jetstream of happiness shot through Nathan. Then he blushed, ashamed for refusing Dorothy"s calls. Dorothy pretended not to notice.

Ma stared at him. “Huv ye been taken poorly, Nathan? Ye"ve turned a queer colour.”

“No, no. Hello, Dorothy. How are you?”

“I"m well, Nathan, but I worried about you when you didn"t answer my calls.”

“Ah, you"re the lassie that phoned, then,” Ma said.

“Yes, I am.”

Dorothy wore a red summer dress of soft cotton with a small, white fleur de lis motif. It had a high collar, three quarter sleeves and a full skirt. Her pale, white stockings and smart sandals were so girlish. She carried a white sun hat and saw him looking at it. She shrugged and smiled, “I needed it for church and anyway, I burn.”

He felt tender and warm standing beside her and he wanted to hold her and say how sorry he was.

“Is there somethin" wrong wi" you, Nathan Forrest?” Ma said. “Where"s yer manners?”

“Sorry. Ma, this is a new friend of mine, Dorothy Jones. Dorothy, this is Ma.”

Ma and Dorothy smiled as they shook hands. Dorothy said “How do you do?” “Pleased to meet you,” Ma said.

Ma got Dorothy seated at table and put a cup of tea and two slices of lightly fried dumpling in front of her.