Chapter One: Sheila
"Sheila! Sheila, get a move on, will you, and stop nattering! You're
here
to work, not create a social life!"
The middle aged man in the cap and apron poked his head around the door
that
seperated the back kitchen from the main body of the cafe, a harried
expression
on his face. "I've orders here waiting to be served - we're too busy
for
you to stand around filing your nails or getting a date for Saturday
night
or whatever it is you're doing that's so important!"
"Oh, relax, will ya? I'm on it." The girl with the long dark ponytail
rolled
her eyes at the friend she had been chatting with, heading across the
cafe's
chequered floor to the doorway. "Right, 'ere I am. What you got for
me?"
"That's for table two, that's for table eight and table four need more
salt
and vinegar." The supervisor responded, keeping the frustration from
his
tone as best he could, for having to chivvy his reluctant waitress into
action
was not an uncommon state of affairs. "And don't forget to smile as you
serve!
Honestly, this isn't a funerary parlour, so stop dishing out food as if
someone
just died! Do you want to keep this job?"
"Keep your 'air on, I'm getting there." Sheila retorted, scooping up
table
two's meals. "You ain't enough of it left to lose, anyway. Lighten up,
will
ya? I only 'ave two 'ands!"
"And too much lip, Miss Burns." Her boss snapped back. "Now get moving
before
I dock your pay!"
Muttering under her breath, Sheila duly transported the plates to the
waiting
table, offering a lukewarm false smile as she did so and heading back
to
the hatch for the next bunch.
If she was honest, she hated waitressing, but it was a necessary means
to
an end. At nineteen, Sheila had finished with school the year before
and
had gone out into the world of work, shunning the idea of university as
'too
much bother'. In all honesty, with her intelligence, it was where she
should
have been, and had she realistically considered the option she would
have
found it to be an escape from the confines of her family situation, but
she
had pushed the idea away without really taking it in - work was not her
thing.
She had passed every class at school with ease and the minimum of work,
and
had great academic potential, but she had never been a keen slogger,
and
had had her fill of education. Let the suckers study if they wanted
it...she
didn't.
She had worked at the cafe for three years now, but it had only become
a
full time job once her school commitments had ended. Though she was not
a
natural in her chosen role, the pay kept her going, and however bored
she
got, she knew she could not afford to lose her position. She had to pay
her
parents an amount room and board out of her salary, and, more
importantly in her mind, there was her project to consider.
Since she had been a small girl, Sheila had been captivated by music.
At
an early age she had discovered her grandfather playing his old
saxophone and he had played it for her, thrilling her young heart with
every note. She
had begged him to teach her and with a laugh he had acquiesced, barely
able
to believe that one of his wayward family had developed the same love
of
a melody inside of her as he had always felt.
Sheila had proven a natural with the instrument, despite the clumsiness
of
her little fingers over the keys, and her grandfather had had high
hopes of
her becoming a professional musician someday, if she could get the
right training.
His plans were that once she was eighteen and free from her parents'
greedy
clutches he would take her on himself and see to it she got to where
she
wanted to be, but these plans were dashed by his sudden and
unexpected death at the age of only seventy three. Sheila, then twelve
years old, had
been heartbroken, but had found little sympathy among her other
relatives. Even the old man's own son, Albert, Sheila's own father,
cared more about the legacy in the will than the loss of the man
himself, and in many ways Sheila had been left to deal with her grief
alone. She would never again see
the beautiful instrument she had grown to adore, since it was sold for
profit
at the first opportunity, partly to generate money to pay gambling
bills
and partly to spite the young girl herself. Her parents had never
understood
this love of music and had done all they could to quell it, as cruelly
as
possible. It had sparked resentment in the girl's soul, but had not
been
a surprise. She and her parents had always been at odds...she knew she
was
a 'mistake' and had never been wanted. In truth she had never let their
indifference
really get to her, since it had always been there and she had developed
ways
and means to deal with it. Only her grandfather had ever secured her
wholehearted
affection and trust, to her parents she had learnt it was easier not to
feel.
And yet, deep inside of her, Sheila was a fighter. Determined that she
would
do whatever it took to get her music back, she had taken the
waitressing
job in order to save for an instrument of her own, a black
saxophone,
to match her own dark hair...and to not remind her too much of the gold
one
she had lost grips on as a child. Saving had not proven easy, for her
parents,
avid gamblers, had a habit of 'borrowing' money which never got
returned,
but she had stuck to her guns. And with this week's paycheque, she
would
finally have enough.
When she looked at it that way, waiting tables hardly seemed so bad.
Although she had never held any illusions about family, there was one
person
within it's perimiters that did matter to Sheila a great deal - her
elder
brother Jeremy. She had fallen more under his influence since her
grandfather's
death, for old Charlie Burns had seen the dark streak that burned
inside
the elder Burns child and had done all he could do keep his protegee
from
being taken in. But Jeremy had cited Sheila as a useful and willing
accomplice,
even a foil for some of his more illicit schemes. He had preyed on her
weakness
after Charlie's death, and she had grown to trust in him
wholeheartedly.
But Jeremy's motives for his sister had never been rooted in family
loyalty.
He was, and always had been, someone who cared for his own needs more
than
anyone else's, and his clever brain simply looked for a way to use
Sheila
to keep himself out of trouble. She was learning to be devious,
deceitful
and manipulative under his guidance, but she had never realised that
she
was the one being manipulated most of all...or where it was likely to
lead
her.
She believed her brother invincible, for he had gotten into and out of
so
many schemes she had begun to believe no authority would ever clamp
down
on what he could do. She was aware that not all of his dealing was
entirely
legal, but it hardly seemed to matter...he was never caught and, to her
knowledge
anyway, his schemes were never that far over the line. If nothing else,
it
added spice to the life of a girl whose intelligence was frustrated by
her
monotonous job and lack of future prospects. Her school record, though
it
had been ended with academic achievement had been chequered with
various
misdemeanours, some of which had gotten her suspended and had
overshadowed
her classwork. Her parents had long since ceased to try and control her
wild
ways - they knew already that it was hopeless and she had gone beyond
their
reach.
Jeremy had always been accepted by them, for he had a knack for
bringing home
money without getting a proper job. It wasn't a crime in the Burns
household
unless you were caught for it, and then, if you were caught,
capture
was the only thing to regret. Remorse for breaking the law was not a
prevalent
emotion in this particular family...and Sheila had accepted such values
without
questioning them growing up.
She had always been popular with her own kind, being the kind of girl
who
had been both a born leader and someone who others had easily looked up
to.
She had soon sussed out how best to deal with those around her and had
taken
advantage accordingly, promising protection to those harassed by
bullies
in return for having her homework done. Sheila had never feared
bullies,
she had found ways to wrap them easily around her little finger, so
more
often than not on the night before a big essay deadline she had been
out
enjoying herself while some other sucker wrote up the project in her
name.
Seeing the benefits of being able to control other people, she had
honed
her manipulative skills to near perfection, but Jeremy still outdid her
in
the arts of coercion and manipulation.
The big hand of the clock clicked onto the seven at last, and Sheila
tossed
the napkin she had just folded into the air, catching it and tossing it
into
the basket with the minimum of care. Her shift was over for the night
and
tomorrow was payday...finally life was coming together.
Her supervisor grimaced at her, but did not comment. She was off-duty
now,
anyway,and in all truth he had a certain amount of sympathy for his
employee's
vivacity for life and living it. He had known her father for many
years,
and had never trusted him or his grasping wife, but he also knew how
important
Sheila's job was to her welfare, so he had never fired her for her
impudence
or carelessness, though he had warned and threatened her many a time.
"Hey, Sheila! You done, girl?" A fresh voice came from the doorway and
Sheila
turned, shooting her brother a surprised grin.
"You bet. What brings you by here? Got plans?"
"Not really. Just thought you might wanna come hang with Rose and Neil
and
I for a while, have a few rounds of darts, and just relax." Jeremy
winked
at her, holding the door as she followed him out to the car. Sheila
shrugged.
"Sure, whatever." she agreed. "I got no plans. Don't get paid till
tomorrow
and I don't want to go 'ome, not really."
"I'll say you don't, kid." Jeremy responded. "Dad lost a fortune on
those
damn nags this morning and he ain't in a good temper. C'mon...we'll
find
a way to liven things up."
"Hey, new car!" Sheila stopped dead, staring at the shiny red vehicle.
"Who'd
you rip off for this, Jeremy?"
"Noone." Jeremy shrugged. "I earnt it, li'l sis. That's why you should
pay
good attention to all I tell you - then one day maybe you'll learn how
to
do so too."
"Any job that pays that kinda money would definitely be welcome!"
Sheila laughed.
"But tomorrow I'll finally 'ave enough for that blinkin' sax...then
there's
no stopping me!"
"Nice." Jeremy looked approving, though there was reservation in his
eyes.
"Hey, maybe then you oughta play it for pennies or something, get some
extra
cash."
"Thought about it, but I'm so outta practice, and Ma'd blow a fuse if
she
knew I was even plannin' on buying it." Sheila shrugged. "Right now I
need
the roof over me 'ead."
"Yeah, maybe." Jeremy unlocked the car. "Get in, will ya? I told Neil
we'd
meet 'im at the Nag's Head in fifteen minutes or so."
"The Nag's Head? Early for drinking, ain't it?" Sheila obediently
slipped into the passenger seat. Jeremy shrugged.
"Well, we'll see 'ow it goes." he said noncommitally. "I 'ave a meeting
with
a...a prospective workmate at 'alf seven anyway, so I can't get too
merry
so early."
"You're drivin', anyway." Sheila pointed out as they pulled out of the
car
park. "And I don't wanna go through the windscreen much, ta!" She
glanced
out of the window. "Woo, smooth runner. I want one!"
"Well, you saved all your money for a sax, kid. Can't 'ave everything."
Jeremy's
eyes twinkled.
Sheila pulled a face, rummaging in her bag for her compact and loosing
her
hair, primping it till it fell to her satisfaction.
"One day I will." she said firmly. "You'll see...I ain't spending my
whole
life in this 'ole."
"You and me both, love." Jeremy laughed. "On to bigger and better."
"I'll drink to that." Sheila grinned. "Boy, it's been a long day. Work
dragged
worse than ever."
"What do you expect, in a dead end cafe like Tony's?" Jeremy demanded.
"And
'ere we are. Don't get your makeup all over the upholstery, Sheila! I
don't
want to have to get it cleaned!"
"All right, cool out." Sheila shrugged, slipping her lipstick back into
her
purse and extracting a cigarette. "Oh, dammit...left me blinkin'
lighter
at 'ome again. Jeremy, you got a light?"
"In the glove box." Jeremy spoke without thinking, then, as his sister
went
to open it he put out a hand. "No, I don't want you rummaging around in
there,
you'll mess up all my stuff! You go on in, I'll find my lighter and
join
you in a moment or two, okay?"
"Sure. Sheesh, cool out, will you?" Sheila rolled her eyes. "You're
worse
on edge than me tonight, and you ain't done a long shift, neither!"
She pushed open the car door, sauntering into the building. The Nags
Head
was a seedy pub downtown from the estate on which both Sheila and
Jeremy
had grown up, and it was a popular haunt for the areas less honourable
residents.
Sheila was aware of this, but it had never phased her. Just because she
frequented
the same place, she reasoned, as the shady characters, it did not make
her
one of them. It was just a nice place to relax.
Her sharp eyes soon spotted Rose and Neil, sitting in a corner booth,
chatting
about something. As she entered Neil raised his hand in a wave and she
grinned,
heading over to join them.
In truth, both Neil and Rose were a dangerous influence on the last of
her
impressionability. Neil had served brief prison terms in the past for
varying
offences and Rose, who considered herself the pinnacle of
sophistication, moved in lanes that were several speeds too fast for
the law. It was well known in local circles that she was linked in with
some kind of drug ring, but Sheila had never paid idle gossip much
attention. She knew she could handle
herself around the other girl, cocaine floozie or not, and as for Neil,
well,
she was a perfectly capable flirt, and knew how to keep the rougher
side
of his nature off her back.
These days, Sheila Burns was not easily scared by anything.
"Hey, Sheila! Where's your brother, huh? You bring him?" Rose called
out
now, and Sheila smirked, sitting down.
"He's outside, parking his new beauty and gettin' all possessive over
it."
she replied dryly.
"Want a light for that thing, love?" Neil held out his lighter and
Sheila
nodded, allowing him to assist her.
"Ta, ducks." she said with a grin, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I left
me
lighter back 'ome again, early mornings ain't good for the brain."
"Work isnt good for the brain." Rose pulled a face. "I don't know how
you
stick it, Sheila...I could never be caught dead in a restrictive job
like
that...I prefer to make my own hours, if you know what I mean."
Sheila eyed her companion thoughtfully. She was not naive enough to
miss
the implication in Rose's words, but it hardly surprised her that
someone
of that girl's attitude to life would choose such a line of work.
"Well, I ain't got much choice right now." was all she said, however,
flicking
ash off her cigarette. "An' I got to give these things up from
tomorrow,
too...so I'm takin' advantage of relaxing with it while I still can."
"Give up? How come?" Neil looked surprised. "Sheila, you without a
cigarette
is like...is like a dog without a tail, or Rose without some braindead
zero
on her track...why the sudden desire to change?"
"I got to. Gettin' me sax tomorrow." Sheila shrugged. "Career
sacrifice. Gramps
always told me you can't play a good sax with smoker's lungs."
"Sheila, he was an old fool who never left you anything when he died,
and
the sax is hardly your career, is it?" Jeremy joined them at that
moment, and Sheila glowered at him. Even after seven years, her loyalty
to the dead
man held firm.
"Even if he 'ad left me anything, Mum or Dad woulda swiped it." she
said
quietly. "And you wouldn't understand. You don't like music. Gramps
weren't
no fool - you just didn't know 'im like me, that's all."
"You're going soft in the head, kid. He's dead, so what does it
matter?" Jeremy
shrugged.
"You're really gonna just totally give up on your image to play some
dumb
instrument?" Rose looked blank. "Sheila, the saxophone is so outdated -
noone
gives a damn about jazz instruments any more! If it ain't electrified
and
hyped in a cloud of acid, who cares?"
"Well, I care." Sheila said firmly. "And in my opinion, it's a
necessary
sacrifice. One day, I will be a great sax player and make a fortune
from
it...then you'll all eat your words."
"You gotta get out of your dreams and back to the real world, kid."
Jeremy
said, amused.
"Yeah, listen to your bro." Neil smirked. "You're too old for fairy
tales
now."
"Well, then maybe I won't bore you with me company no more tonight."
Sheila
got to her feet, inhaling on her cigarette and flicking ash in Neil's
direction.
"I ain't in the mood for darts now. I'm goin' to go drop by
Laura's...catch
you later, Jeremy."
Once she was gone, very much on her dignity, Rose frowned, then lowered
her
voice.
"So does she know about the job?" she murmured. Jeremy shook his head.
"No. She almost found Shane's pay-off, but no." he replied. "She's a
gullible
fool, Rose, and she lives in this little dreamworld of hers...she'll
believe
whatever I tell her. Don't worry, she's safe. Trust me."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"What's eating you?"
Laura Cunningham opened the door of her house, eying her visitor in
surprise.
"I thought that tomorrow was red letter day...why the long face?"
"Jeremy." Sheila sighed, following her friend indoors and into the
lounge.
"He just doesnt get it, Laura...about the sax and all."
"He's a bloke, big surprise." Laura said dryly. "'Ere, put that thing
out,
will ya? If Mum gets in and smells tobacco I'll be for it! I thought
you
were givin' up, anyway!"
"I am, from tomorrow." Sheila stubbed out the cigarette. "New start,
and
all that. Sorry Laura, I forgot."
"Well, it's a sick habit, it makes your fingers and your hair and your
nails
all gross." Laura grimaced. "You shoulda seen my aunt Sally..."
"All right, I know." Sheila snapped. "I've 'eard it before, Laura, so
quit
it, huh? From tomorrow it won't matter, anyway. I 'ave to make
sacrifices
if I really wanna play me sax good, so that's that. Won't miss it,
anyhow.
Blinkin' expensive 'abit."
"You got that right." Laura nodded. "So what did Jeremy say, exactly?"
"Not much. Only that the sax is hardly a career move." Sheila replied.
"He
thinks I'm bein' childish and daydreaming...well, I don't daydream
unless
I can make it 'appen, and I know I can, Laura. I really can."
"Well, my musical opinion don't count for much, but the coupla times I
'eard
you play when we were kids, you were damn good." Laura looked
thoughtful. "Hey, about tomorrow...you mind starting out early? I got
me a day off work
and I'm goin' north to see my grandparents, I owe 'em a visit but I
don't
want to break my word to you 'bout comin' along."
"Sure. I have work at nine, but I can get up earlier for once, since
it's
a special occasion." Sheila grinned. "I meant to ask you, actually, if
you
could keep the sax here a while, when I bought it? I don't want me
folks
finding out right away. Pay should be in me account tomorrow and that
means
I'll finally have enough...I'd actually rather spend it before me Ma
tries
to hunt up me pin number again."
"No problem. You know you can trust me." Laura nodded her head. "Sit
down,
huh, and I'll put the kettle on. Tomorrow your music begins!"
PART ONE: SHEILA
Chapter One: Life in London
Chapter Two: The Saxophone
Chapter Three: A Friend In Need
Chapter Four: Never Again...
PART TWO: A DESIGNING WOMAN
Chapter Five: Sheila's Decision
Chapter Six: A Band In Crisis
Chapter Seven: First Night
Chapter Eight: Making It Happen
PART THREE: BACK IN THE CITY
Chapter Nine: The Misfits In London
Chapter Ten: On Every Screen...
Chapter Eleven: A Musical Reunion
Chapter Twelve: Jealousy
Chapter Thirteen: An Old Acquaintance
Chapter Fourteen: Doing London
Chapter Fifteen: Sabotage!
Chapter Sixteen: The Final Straw
Chapter Seventeen: Opening Night
Chapter Eighteen: Jetta
(The Misfits and Holograms and other animated Jem characters are copyrighted to Hasbro Inc. All characters who do not appear in Jem episodes are my own creation. This story is copyrighted to E.A Woolley (2001)